Party Hard

by David Petrie

  Most of the party-people in question never ventured beyond the city's walls. Hell, most of them were below level ten and didn't even own a set of armor, so their impact on the game was minor, to say the least. They were background characters, not adventurers. Similar to the world's businesses, Checkpoint had gone through the trouble of designing Noctem's cities in a way that kept that part of the world hidden as well, which made the crowds easier to avoid. Hidden or not, they did still serve a valuable purpose, which was consuming virtual content like it was going out of style.

  The economic setup of the game world was pretty impressive. It offered two distinct types of products and operated on a dual currency system that kept everything balanced. On one side, all equipment and items that influenced the game could only be bought with virtual credits that could be earned by simply playing. The other side of things allowed any transaction having no bearing on it could be purchased at a reasonable price with regular money. Checkpoint taking a percentage, of course. So, if a user wanted to see a movie, buy a beer, or purchase a new outfit for the club, they would pay for it just like they would anything in the real world. With no way to exchange one currency for another, having a dual currency system also ensured that players would never be left struggling to afford important things like crafting items. That didn't mean that it was impossible to purchase game items outside the system, the demand eventually giving rise to a number of websites where users could post requests for help in exchange for real money. Sometimes it was something simple like needing to purchase a transport shuttle to get around. Other times, it was something more complex like escorting users through high-level territories. It was a system that had funded a road trip up the east coast for Max and Kira just the year before. It had been fun. They saw a deer.

  Now, the pair traveled away from the bustling streets of commerce and toward the dim corners of Valain on the outskirts of town. Being a virtual world, users were never in danger anywhere in Noctem, but since the game allowed for player versus player combat as well as friendly fire, fights were not uncommon. Player-killing happened from time to time, but for the most part, it tended to gravitate toward the places in the world where that kind of behavior was encouraged. So as long as you didn't make a habit of provoking people, you could walk around most places without much worry. Nevertheless, the outskirts were rather spread out and getting around could be inconvenient. In the end, it was a place that didn't draw much of a crowd, allowing the real players to enjoy their adventures without distraction. For Max, it felt like home. He belonged there, and he knew it.

  The outer districts branched out into a maze of side streets and alleyways. Lamplight flickered, casting a soft silhouette of the pair across the cobblestone path as they progressed toward the waypoint. Gone was the decorative stonework of the city's high-rises, and in its place loomed simple wooden buildings with rickety shutters covering their uneven windows. Threads of light spilled from cracks here and there, lending an air of added mystery to their already intriguing night. Random barrels and crates cluttered the edges of the winding street, making the place seem like a functioning town with its own purpose.

  A lagopin, which was a sort of cross between a rabbit and a bird but larger, plodded past them, pulling a cart full of freshly cut hay. The sweet grassy odor filled Max's senses. Its driver, a hardened looking man, leered at him from under the brim of a floppy hat as he took up most of the narrow street, forcing them both to stand aside to let him pass. The animal in front shook its head as if to scratch an itch, its long ears flapping back and forth while it rustled its stubby wings. For a moment, Max feared he might have to stop Kira from petting the fictional animal, but she refrained.

  The night air was crisp, feeling several degrees colder than it did in the city's center. Kira wrapped her hands around her arms and shivered but held in any complaint. Instead, she padded along, her feet bare on the stone covered ground while Max strode comfortably, dressed in his armor and scarf. Obviously, it would be ridiculous for a fairy to wear shoes, or at least, that seemed to be what the developers thought since they had made the race unable to equip any.

  Soon after, the pair arrived under a dangling wooden sign bearing an image depicting a stick figure game of hangman, the blank spaces below filled in with the words The Hanging Frederick.

  "Well, that's ominous," Max said matter-of-factly as he glanced around.

  Not a soul was in sight. Apparently, it wasn't a popular spot. The door creaked as he pushed it open, causing them both to cringe at the sound. Inside, they were greeted with what they expected, a dim room with few patrons. Exposed beams ran along an uneven ceiling which was held up by a series of rough wooden pillars bearing a number of mismatched carvings. The walls were decorated with pictures of all kinds, ranging from wanted posters and maps to landscape paintings, each one in a different style of frame. Most weren't anything fancy, but the collection did give the place an eclectic feel. A couple of parties occupied the tavern, taking a moment to unwind after a night of exploration and progress. Occasional laughter peppered the air while a lone guitar player sat on a stool in a corner singing a slow, acoustic version of ‘Space Oddity.’ Max wished they had come across the establishment sooner. The atmosphere was perfect.

  The obvious focal point of the room was a long dusty bar that ran along the full length of the space. A burly man stood behind, wiping a mug made of dark wood with a filthy rag. As Max and Kira approached, they triggered the NPC to cease his cleaning, if that was what you wanted to call it. He leaned on the bar and said in a gruff but friendly manner, crafted to match the atmosphere, "‘Ello, my young travelers. What can I get you on this fine evening?" His accent could only be described as old-timey, and his words regarded them as welcomed guests.

  "Yes, We're-" Max started to say but was cut off by his partner.

  "Could I get some food?" Kira asked, stepping on Max's words and somehow sounding polite and rude at the same time as she glanced at the haphazardly carved menu hanging on the wall, a dagger sticking out of it as if placed there to add items later.

  The bartender stuttered for a moment like his programming was trying to figure out who to address. He started again, algorithm clicking into place, "What can I get for such a lovely young lady?" He lowered his head closer to Kira's height, ignoring Max altogether.

  "Turkey leg, please." She placed her right hand on the bar to allow a transaction of ten credits to process as she bounced on her toes. She elbowed Max in the ribs to inform him that the tavern worked off in-game credits rather than dollars, which was almost unheard of. Most food items fell into the category of luxury items, so discovering a place that worked off credits was a rare find. It was the sort of secret that you only shared with your most trusted friends, which was probably why it was so quiet. Max would have to thank whoever had sent the urgent message that brought them there.

  "You just ate like ten minutes ago." Max rubbed his side where she had elbowed him.

  Kira shrugged as if it couldn't be helped, and the bartender walked away through one of two doors behind him, returning a moment later with a smoked leg of meat wrapped in wax paper. She took it from him with enthusiasm and raised it to her face, leaving Max to continue his conversation uninterrupted.

  He turned back to the bartender and started again, "Hi, we're supposed to meet someone in the back room." He hoped there would be some kind of prompt in place to let them past the bar.

  "What can I get for you?" the bartender repeated since Max hadn't waited for him to speak first in the interaction. The man's tone was gruffer than the one he used when addressing Kira. Pretty young women must get better treatment from his algorithm.

  Max grumbled to himself and repeated his inquiry, growing impatient with each passing moment. "We're supposed to meet someone in the back."

  There was either no prompt to proceed, or Max hadn’t used the right words because the bartender skipped back to the beginning of his dialog loop, repeating his question in the same unfriendly voice. "
What can I get for you?"

  Max placed his hands on the bar and lowered his head as he let out the heaviest sigh ever produced by a human being.

  A snicker came from Kira.

  He looked at her sideways then up at the man again with narrowed eyes. "Okay, pal. My friend and I got a message to come here. You gonna let us back there or not?' He pointed to the door behind the bar.

  The bartender paused for a moment as his algorithm tried to understand Max's words, giving the appearance that he was considering it. Then he spoke, "What can I get for you?"

  "Arrrggghh," Max growled, giving new input to the NPC without meaning to.

  "What can I get for you?" the man repeated.

  Max stepped away from the bar and walked in a small circle before returning.

  "What can I get for you?"

  He tapped his fingers on the counter, then tried a different approach. "Hello, my good sir. I hope this evening finds you well. My compatriot and I were asked here to this fine establishment for a clandestine meeting with persons unknown. Would you be so kind as to allow us access to your back room?" He finished with a slight bow which he held while awaiting a response.

  "What can I get for you?"

  "Okay, that's it!" Max ground his teeth hard enough the break a filling if he’d had any. For a moment, he let his hand travel to his pistols, the ridiculous urge to shoot something running through his head as he fingered the grips. He refrained. Instead, he hoisted himself onto the bar and stood upright on it before jumping down on the other side.

  The bartender didn't seem to notice the intrusion, though several heads looked up at him from across the tables of the tavern as the lone musician ceased an acoustic rendition of ‘Safety Dance’ so that he could gawk properly.

  "What are you looking at?" Max barked. "Go about your business." He gestured a shooing motion with both hands, then turned away from the onlookers and banged on the unused door behind the bar. "Okay, we're here. Let's get this show on the road," he called out.

  Silence answered back, and Kira stopped chewing for a second to listen. Then a quiet click-clack came from the lock.

  Max twisted the knob. It turned. "You coming?" he asked, looking to Kira.

  She swallowed a mouth full of turkey before climbing onto a bar stool and hoisting herself onto the counter with an awkward motion, one hand still holding the large leg of salty meat. She slid her rear across the bar, dusting its surface with her dress, then dropped to the other side to join her partner.

  Max shook his head.

  "What?" she asked indignantly.

  "Nothing. Let's go," he said with a smirk as they passed through the door and into a large shadowed room.

  Something was off. The space was somehow larger than it should've been. In fact, it was larger than the tavern itself. Decorative stonework lined the walls making it feel disjointed from the wooden beams of the previous space. It was as if the room wasn't even part of the same building, like he had walked through a door and into a different part of the city, which might have been possible. He wasn't sure.

  A long stone table stretched into the empty space with several high-backed chairs lining its sides. A few small lanterns ran down the table's imposing surface, causing the shadows cast by the chairs to reach across the floor and up onto the walls, the gaps of light and dark making the room feel like the rib cage of a giant skeleton.

  A lone hooded man rose from the furthest chair at the head of the table. He seemed to glide toward them without a sound in the darkness as he approached. The shadow of his hood twisted the features of his face in the dim but hard light of the lanterns.

  The door slammed behind them, making Max aware of the presence of two additional figures lying in wait. They were surrounded.

  Stupid, Max thought, walking into a room without thinking. So very stupid.

  The air grew thick with tension the second he realized the trap they had just stepped into. Max's mind fired up to process the situation, his artificial muscles twitching in anticipation. That's when the man in front of them pushed back his hood. Max recognized his face from many of the presentations he’d watched online from gaming conventions.

  "Thank you for accepting my invitation," greeted Alastair Coldblood.

  Chapter Five

  Flesh tore on impact, leaving bits of skin remaining on the stunned face of the smaller of the two figures blocking the door.

  Max stood, guns drawn, his eyes darting in assessment of the trap.

  In front stood Coldblood, human, a Cauldron class. Slow compared to other mages but capable of handing out far more destruction than any other. Max knew the man's capabilities. Hell, he was famous. Everyone did.

  Behind them on the left was a tall male, his face hidden by the hooded robes of a Venom, the fastest of the offensive mage classes. Dangerous with debuffs and damage-over-time spells. From his height, he was probably an elf. Decent mana with moderate health. An armband on one arm marked him as one of Checkpoint's Clerics.

  To the right, a woman was still recovering from being struck in the face with a turkey leg. She had a medium build. Human. And no armband? Interesting. One of her hands was covered by a gauntlet, Shield class gear. Max had seen it before on other Shield players. It required around level one hundred and ten to wield.

  Max tightened his grip on his pistols. They were out-numbered and outgunned.

  "Who the hell throws a turkey leg?" the Shield spouted with disgust after being hit without warning by an airborne meat projectile.

  It hadn't helped that Kira had yelled, “Distraction!” when she threw it.

  "I mean who does that?" the Shield continued to wipe her face, the grease leaving a dull sheen on the brown skin of her cheek.

  A few locks of black hair clung to her face, their strands peppered with bits of smoked turkey. She pushed them to one side where she ran her fingers through, removing the foreign matter before letting them fall back into place. The rest of her hair was tied back and fell down her neck in a mass of loose curls that trailed off into wisps at their ends. The sides were cut short with a single braid hanging on either side just before her ears in a way that made her look like a viking raider. Her brown eyes burned with shock and indignation, but she repressed any further complaints.

  A moment passed where nobody moved as if everyone was unsure of how to proceed. Max did the talking, trying to sound calm despite the situation, "Am I to take from the fact that none of you have drawn on us yet, that we are not in any kind of trouble?" He would have batted his eyelashes, but he didn’t think that would help.

  "Have you done anything that would get you in trouble?" Alastair sounded like a teacher in high school fishing for information.

  It rubbed Max the wrong way. "How 'bout we skip the pleasantries, and you just tell us why you called us here."

  "Fair enough; have a seat. I'll explain." Alastair motioned to the chairs on one side of the table.

  "We'll stand if you don't mind. Not looking to get too comfortable," Max stated, keeping one gun on Alastair and the other on the hooded Venom mage behind them.

  Kira stood at his back, casters glowing, ready to throw a couple Pulse spells at the Shield, who now seemed to be having trouble maintaining eye contact with anyone.

  "Sure, it's a free world." Alastair shrugged, holding both palms up to the ceiling. "Although, I would recommend sitting before you hear what I have to say. And by all means, keep the gun on me if it makes you feel better." He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite them, ignoring the weapon pointed in his direction as if Max was no threat to him at all. His dark, shoulder-length hair fell forward as he took his seat, red streaks running through it like blood trickling from a wound. He pushed it back with a ring-covered hand, his snow-white fingers slipping through his locks with a practiced elegance. He looked back to them, his eyes encircled by crimson streaks of eyeliner that traced angular points outward and down his nose, making him look like a cross between Ziggy Stardust and an evil Kabuki actor. His demeanor wa
s calm, which annoyed Max as the mage continued, "To answer your question, I called you both here to request your services in completing a quest."

  "Why the hell would we want to work for you?" Max spouted, knowing all about the controversy that surrounded the man. After all, he hadn’t been living under a rock.

  "Good question." Alastair leaned his head to the side and smirked. "For starters, this quest pays two hundred thousand U.S. dollars each."

  With that, guns were slid into holsters just as fast as they had been drawn and casters snapped shut. Max stepped forward, pulling out a chair and sitting like he was at home.

  Kira bowed to the Shield. "I sincerely apologize for assaulting you with food," she said, sounding polite, almost out of character for her.

  The shield hesitated as if unsure of how to react to the fairy standing before her with her head lowered, enchanting blue eyes looking up at her through a few silver locks of hair. Max thought he saw a hint of a smile on the woman's face.

  After another pause, she nodded, adding an awkward, "It's okay. We're cool."

  Kira smiled back before hopping into a chair next to Max and pulling up close to the table. She leaned her face on one palm. "So what kind of quest are we talkin’ about?"

  Alastair held up a hand. "Let me start by saying that to move forward, you both must accept a standard non-disclosure agreement, which has just been sent to your inboxes. You can do so by placing your hands on the table and stating your approval."

  "We'll bite." Kira placed her palms flat on the stone without bothering to open the message.

  Max at least pretended to skim the contract before doing the same. "We thoroughly agree to keep our big mouths shut."

  "Yup," added Kira.