Mastermind

by Steven Kelliher

  “A weakness,” I said, pointing at the screen. “Pain means weakness. Weakness means mortality. Mortality means death, given the right circumstances.”

  B5 was nodding now. Droplets of water traced paths down the steely contours of his face, the result of the drifting mist from the falls on the near side of the chamber.

  “Your reasoning is sound,” the droid said.

  Still, despite the fluttering in my heart and the excitement that had been called up along with the pounding blood in my ears, my heart sank a bit to realize that I didn’t have anything else.

  At least, not yet.

  “It’s a start, B,” I said, chewing my lower lip as I turned back toward that frozen image. I filed it away, those blue eyes wide enough to show the whites all around. That perfect jaw clenched in pain. I wondered what the damage percentages were showing Leviathan on his user interface. Had he taken a slight but unexpected hit, dropping from 100% down to 96%? Or had he been given a legitimate scare?

  And just like that, my earlier good feelings were bolstered by something new. Something of the road ahead. Leviathan could be damaged. I knew it. We all knew it, deep down, even if it had never been shown. But knowing something to be true and seeing it were different things.

  It seemed the Ythilian core had given me something, after all.

  Leviathan could be damaged. Leviathan could feel pain. Leviathan could be killed.

  Now, I just had to learn how to do it.

  I was about to tell the supercomputer to go forward, telling myself it wasn’t masochistic to watch my former build’s death for the hundredth time if it was in the name of research, when a commotion from up above had me looking toward the tunnel.

  A pair of my minions were locked in an argument on their way down the iron staircase. When they reached the bottom and passed through the stalagmite gate, they found me waiting for them, arms crossed, kabuki mask glowering. Then again, I suppose it always was.

  One was a spindly old man wearing tattered overalls atop a stained shirt. I suppose the outfit didn’t matter with the dock workers. It was always some unimaginative mix of cloth and leather. But their faces were varied enough. The other one was much younger. Young enough to be the grandson to his companion, though the two couldn’t have looked more different.

  “Well?” I asked, B5 taking up my wing with Sebastian’s shadow falling over the pair of us and the dock workers in front. They still had my white marks emblazoned firmly above their heads. To say they were nervous would be an understatement.

  “I…” one of them started.

  “We…” the other one put in.

  “You…” I offered, spreading my arms out. “You… saw something, I’m guessing?”

  They looked at one another.

  “Fellas,” I elbowed B5 in an attempt to get him to whisper their names conspiratorially.

  “Damon and Greek,” B5 said at the pitch and timbre you would when ordering in a noisy restaurant.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Anyway, Damon and Greek,” I said, looking from one to the other and apparently in the wrong order, given the look they exchanged, “you have nothing to fear from me. Go on. Tell me what you saw.”

  “Well, we didn’t see it firsthand,” the younger one started.

  “I did!” the older one shouted him down. “I saw her clear as the sky is dark—”

  “Her?” I asked, leaning forward. That got their attention. They shrank back and fumbled in their pockets. “Go on, then,” I said. “Spit it out. Madam Post been snooping?”

  “Post?” the older one said. “No, sir.”

  “Starshot,” the younger one jumped in, eager to steal the old man’s thunder.

  I was beginning to think this mask showed a bit too much of the eyes beneath. It was meant to hide my emotions, but those eyes were an open book, at least judging by the expressions of my underlings when they caught them in the wrong light.

  “Starshot is here?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice level.

  “Not… not here,” the old man said, and the younger one pointed to his right, up toward the tunnel entrance.

  “There,” he said. “At the docks. She’s been snooping around, asking questions. Questions about you, sir. I think Greek’s lying about having seen her,” Damon continued, earning a punch on the shoulder for it, “but she’s there, sir. She’s flying about, has been for a couple days now, if you believe the lads down at the shore.”

  “Do you?” I asked. “Believe them, that is.”

  “Yes,” Damon answered.

  “No,” Greek echoed.

  “But you saw her, right?” I asked Greek.

  “I wasn’t at that bank robbery of yours, sir,” he said, “but I don’t see how I can be mistaking a golden flying lass like that.”

  “Probably a few of them in Titan City,” B5 offered unhelpfully.

  “Has Scale noticed her?” I asked.

  “Can’t say I’m certain, sir,” Greek said, and Damon shrugged.

  “More than likely that lizard’s hiding—”

  Greek slapped Damon on the back of the head. “That lizard is our boss’s friend,” he said. “Mind yourself, boy.”

  Damon rubbed the back of his head and shot a glare back at Greek before returning a sheepish look my way.

  “Scale would likely have trouble with Starshot, given her power set,” B5 said. “Of course, if he got her grounded…”

  “B,” I said, holding up a hand to stop the next bout of bickering between Damon and Greek.

  “Yes, General?”

  “Is Luther done with his latest project?”

  “He’s always working on something, it seems.” B5 said, but when he saw the look I turned on him, his eyes flickered and blinked. “Shall I call for him?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And I’ll take five volunteers. Four men and a lizard.” Greek and Damon looked at one another before staring back at me. I watched them expectantly, and both raised their hands hesitantly.

  “Excellent,” I said, clapping both on the shoulder with my gloved hands and giving a squeeze that I meant to be reassuring but that the two seemed to take as threatening. Whatever worked, I guess.

  “We’re going hunting, boys.”

  “Are you certain you want to court Starshot again?” B5 asked.

  “Strange word choice, B. And yes.”

  “Even given what we know about her superpower, and what happened the last time you met?”

  “Especially given what we know about her superpower, B,” I said, ignoring the second part. I pointed up into the cavernous heights. “What time is it?”

  “Ah,” B5 said, nodding. “Very good.”

  Starshot’s powers would still be formidable, but if I had a big enough team and a good enough plan, I should be able to mitigate that, so long as I didn’t have to dodge ray beams the whole night. Given that Starshot’s powers charged at half the rate without the sun lighting her back, I liked my chances.

  I made my way toward one of the mounds at the back of the platform while B5 went about the business of rounding up my ‘volunteers.’

  I reached out for the hidden button B5 had shown Luther, but the face of the mound slid to the right on its near-hidden rails before I could, and the vaguely dwarven man climbed out of the narrow stairwell wearing a sour expression and handling a pair of items I beamed to see.

  The first was a smaller version of the stasis gun he’d used on Scale. This one was black with white streaks. I accepted it gratefully.

  Item: Stasis Gun Mrk 1

  No Tier restrictions.

  Requires: Mind 15

  Use: Shoots a paralyzing orb that catches enemy combatants in a stasis field. Targets successfully caught in stasis will be immune to all damage for duration. Any attack will break the stasis effect.

  Duration: 25 seconds or until the enemy is attacked.

  Note: Enemies with a mind stat of 35 or higher will resist this effect.<
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  “Smaller, I see,” I said, turning the weapon over.

  “At your request,” Luther said, giving me a look of utter betrayal.

  “I meant no offense,” I said. My mind stat was exactly 15, and I wondered whether Luther had designed the gun for me specially or whether it was a standard weapon in the game. Either way, I could use it, so I didn’t think on it too deeply.

  Next, the grumbling Luther held up what looked to be a belt with six silver balls set into it.

  “Now, these I’m excited about,” I said, accepting the belt from him. I looped it around my waist and latched it in front, running my hand over them admiringly.

  Item: Swarm Grenade Mrk 1

  No Tier Restrictions

  Requires: Mind 15

  Use: Projects 6 lifelike, holographic images of the wielder that move in accordance with the wielder. Images persist for 30 seconds or until they take any damage, including environmental damage.

  Note: Enemies with a mind stat of 35 or higher will resist this effect and see the real you.

  “Images only?” I said, remembering all of the Luthers running around the shop, driving Scale into a murderous, confused rage.

  “Aye. Perfect way to make an escape.”

  I nodded, but then I belatedly caught the tenor of his voice and gave him a look. A threatening one. I thought I saw him suppress a swallow. Not the most personable man, but intelligent. That was good.

  “I won’t be making an escape tonight, dear Luther,” I said. “But rest assured, I’ll be putting your… art to use.” I held up the stasis gun and then slipped it into a latch on my right hip beneath my coat.

  Finally, Luther smiled wide as he held up a black rod that was as tall as him. It looked like a mix between a police baton and a Spartan spear. Instead of narrowing to a point, two claws formed at the end.

  Item: Shock Spear Mrk 1

  No Tier Restrictions

  Requires: Mind 5, Brawn 5

  Use: Produces an electrical charge that amplifies close-quarters damage.

  Melee Damage: 25

  “Despot.”

  I smiled before I turned around. Sebastian had a knack for putting me in a good mood.

  “Yes, dear Sebastian.”

  The big man looked upset, which made me upset. B5 loomed behind him. Well, shadowed him, I should say. I looked at him quizzically.

  “What is it, Sebastian?”

  “The metal one told me I’m staying here.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Is there a problem?”

  Sebastian shifted from foot to foot. He looked from me toward the iron staircase below the falls, where Carlyle and a few of the other men milled, checking the resin armor vests Luther had equipped them with, and the black Shock Spears that should be more than capable of putting a low-level NPC down for the count, and at least able to give a tier-six hero something to think about.

  “Sebastian,” I said with an easy laugh, stepping forward to give his burly shoulder a good-natured squeeze. “You’re staying here because – other than loyal B5 here, who will be the voice in my head – I need a man to look after the homestead.”

  Sebastian frowned and smiled at the same time. He really did remind me of a golden retriever.

  “You’re the man of the house,” I said, giving him a wink. He seemed to be the only one who found my mask more curious than disquieting.

  I strode toward the stairway, sweeping my small company up along with me.

  “Going now, General?” B5 called from behind.

  I tapped the side of my mask without turning back. “I’ve got my transmitter in, B. You won’t have any trouble reaching me. Just one stop along the way. We need to give a certain lizard a chance to redeem himself.”

  Thirteen

  Happy Hunting

  “This is where they saw her?”

  “For the umpteenth time, Scale, this is where they told me they saw her.”

  He looked at me with that big, toothy grin that seemed permanently etched onto his reptilian face. Scale was meant to look scary, but the longer I knew him, the more I came to see his misshapen mass of skull and bone and armor to be a comedy of errors. Something to be derided, not feared.

  He was quite large, though, a fact I was reminded of when he reached up to adjust his position on the shifting pile, his clawed hand brushing against my shoulder in the process.

  “Greek and Damon said Starshot is snooping around this area of the docks,” I said again.

  “My docks,” Scale said, sounding like a child recently bereft of a toy.

  “Your docks,” I said with an exaggerated air. Not so far away was the spot where my crew had beaten Scale to a pulp. ‘His docks,’ indeed.

  Scale and I were crouched on the outer rim of a valley built entirely of refuse. Flat on our stomachs like soldiers or prowling cats, we waited with bated breath for the enemy hero Starshot to make herself known.

  Still, Greek and Damon had said the hero was snooping. I initially thought she must have known where I was based, but even if she had followed Post’s crew all the way across Silver Bridge, that wouldn’t have led her to the dam. She knew the general vicinity, but not the place, though her questions were going to get her closer. Scale had several access points from his underground labyrinth of sewers up into this land of trash mountains and dirt valleys. He hadn’t wanted to show them to me, but if Starshot really was going to be picking through the trash looking for me, we didn’t want to make a big show of stomping through the place ourselves.

  All told, it was a perfect place to hide a secret lair, which gave the misinformation some credibility where Starshot was concerned. It was also the perfect place to set an ambush. Far enough from Madam Post’s docks not to draw unwanted attention, and another of the many sparse regions on the outskirts of War Town not to be crammed full of players looking to make a name.

  Starshot must be desperate indeed if she was coming all the way here to build on the half-baked rivalry we’d started at Titan Dominion.

  It was dark. Well, as dark as it was wont to get in Titan Online. The skies never went completely black, more a midnight blue, but the gray skies over War Town added to the gloom and made keeping a low profile that much simpler.

  I don’t know if Scale thought I couldn’t see him eyeing the silver balls on my belt or the black gun in its holster on my hip, but if he made a go at me, I had Carlyle close by with a sparking spear of his own. You might call them glorified cattle prods if you saw them, but then, that wasn’t all bad in my estimation. If you could give a one-ton bovine a shock, you could do that and more to a human.

  I rolled over onto my back, trying in vain not to disturb too much of the mountain of metal, rust and plastic that was our temporary bed. Carlyle was squatting in one of the trails between the hills of discarded things – all the usual stuff you found in dumps in the movies. He was one of the quieter men on the crew, but his profile suggested he’d be capable in a scrap. Carlyle was tall, with short, military-cut hair, a classic look for many in the employ of Madam Post. Now, he was mine, just as the rest were. Even those not directly in my Sphere acted as a buffer between me and Blackstrike, the villain whose territory bordered Madam Post’s, and who I had yet to meet.

  Carlyle gave me a nod and I rolled back over, ignoring Scale’s low growl as I dislodged a hubcap and sent it sliding down the hill with a grating series of scrapes. I squinted and peered across the way, noting Greek and Damon similarly positioned on the opposite hillside. Down below, a solitary figure slinked among the trash like a raccoon. That was Spooks. We’d named him so – well, I had – because he never said much, and because he was afraid of everything. In short, he was the perfect mark to make Starshot think she’d stumbled upon one of my guys, unwitting and perfectly willing to give up my location.

  In truth, Spooks probably would betray me at the drop of a hat. That was okay. That was good, even. Today, at least.

  But the longer we waited, the more dubious our mission seemed. Starshot hadn’t a
rrived. Maybe she was snooping around farther south, plying the waters and ways around Madam Post’s domain in search of my cavernous abode.

  Would Sebastian, Luther and the others be able to fend her off without Scale and me? Would they try?

  I tried to shake the thought, and that brought with it a new one. One that disappointed me, even came close to hurting my feelings, strange as it may sound. Could it be that Starshot had simply given up?

  “What makes you think she’s coming?” Scale asked.

  “Rivalry points,” I said dryly. “Glorious, glorious Rivalry points.”

  Scale let out a sardonic bark of a laugh. “She did whoop you something fierce across the bay, didn’t she? No wonder you’re not in the mood for a rematch on equal terms.”

  “No such thing in this game,” I said. “Equal terms, that is. We’re each bound to our origins. It’s our missions that make us. Our stories.”

  “And yours is going to be something, I’m sure,” Scale said. “Just nothing compared to your girl.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I tried not to replay our last encounter in my mind. I’d done that enough already. There was truth to what Scale said, but instead of viewing Starshot as a superstar hero in the making, she reminded me of a lost puppy. A bright one, and a powerful one, but lost nonetheless.

  In a way, I pitied her, and at that point in time, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

  “You going to perm her?”

  “Maybe,” I said, probably a little too quickly to be believed. After all, those Rivalry points went both ways, and I’d lose out on them if I killed her in our second encounter. Scale raised his boney eyebrow spurs and looked at me longer than was comfortable. I continued to stare ahead, watching Spook ‘patrol’ the paths between the trash hills, guarding the entrance to my faux secret lair.

  “You’d really give up the Infamy points?” Scale asked.

  “You want her?” It was my turn to frown. If Scale took the lion’s share of the Infamy XP from the fight, he might tier up himself for all I knew. Then he might threaten me. I think Scale knew I was on to him, as he shifted uneasily.