by Chanda Hahn
A shrill cry came again as a bulky morphling stalked down the street, its pronounced wolf head swinging side to side, shaking its head in pain, as if still reeling from the effects of the tone that had finally stopped.
Wendy looked up at the clock as it had reached zero, and Wendy didn’t want to be on the street for whatever came next.
Using two hands, she was able to grip the knob and it turned. Her eyes still watching the street, she slipped into the store and closed the door, locking it behind her. Then she collapsed to her knees and fought off tears She needed to keep it together and find a way out.
She should have waited for Jax, Ditto, and the others. She was so impatient, desperate to get back to Peter, that she might have done more harm than good.
Get yourself together, Wendy, she told herself. You can still help the others.
Scanning the room, she found it was sparsely stocked. But the front window had T-shirts on display, and that was all she needed to bandage her hands.
A dark silhouette moved toward her in the window, and Wendy flailed instinctively to fight off the morphling, knocking over a mannequin, to reveal one of the shadows floating behind it.
Wendy smiled sheepishly.
The shadow motioned for her to follow it to the back room and she did. She was becoming better at identifying the different shadows and knew this was a female.
The shadow reached out to touch her hand and Wendy let her memories speak to her. Unlike the other shadows who showed her scattered memories because they were confused and didn’t understand what was going on, this shadow was calm and able to communicate with her in clear images. Wendy saw the pods, recognized Peter in one of them. Then Jax in his Red Skull uniform, laughing and joking with the person whose memories she was seeing. He then was talking quietly to a young woman floating in a pod. Wendy could tell by his posture and the way he spoke and looked at her that he was in love.
This is Alice, Wendy realized.
The shadow showed the Hollow Dome being constructed, and Wendy was in awe of the whole inner workings of the city within the island, and the rooms underneath. There was a maze under the city, where the morphlings lived in the darkness and traveled up through the sewers.
There were a series of images depicting Dusters, troops putting on uniforms, training to fight with virtual equipment, then fighting each other. She saw an office for Wonderland Games. And the more the shadow shared, the more she understood.
“It’s a game.”
The images stopped and the shadow guided her over to a mirror and saw her own reflection, her way of telling Wendy who she was. A young woman with sad eyes hidden behind colorful glasses. Her legs were thin from disuse, but her arms were strong as they wheeled her around in her wheelchair. Wendy saw the woman’s fingers fly across the keyboard of her computer and understood she was involved with everything.
“You’re with Neverland,” Wendy said in surprise. “You’re one of them.” Wendy pulled her hand away and didn’t want anything to do with the shadow. This was the enemy.
The shadow reached for her again and Wendy backed away. “No, I don’t trust you. You did this to us.”
The shadow wasn’t going to take no for an answer and dove for Wendy, inserting herself right into Wendy’s body, and she jerked as the shadow relayed her final piece of information.
The morphlings.
Everything there was to know about them, the shadow gave her, filling up her mind, downloading the information about the shadows, morphlings, and the plane they came from. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
The images came to a sudden halt and the shadow left Wendy’s body and hovered a few feet away. Wendy grabbed on to the counter to steady herself. The information she gave her was the key to stopping Neverland.
Wendy now knew how to stop the morphlings.
She hoped.
“Thank you, Candace,” Wendy said breathlessly after having learned her name from the memories. “I’m not sure why you want to help, but I am grateful.”
The shadow bobbed her head.
“I can also see that you’re free,” Wendy added, pointing to her legs that were no longer bound by a wheelchair. “But you can’t stay here. The morphlings eat the shadows. They will hunt your soul. Please, go. Stay safe.”
The shadow refused to leave, sticking close to her. Wendy had no choice but to let her follow her.
Infused with knowledge of the layout of Hollow Dome and the power it gave her, Wendy walked confidently to the back of the store and opened up a closet door, then grinned when she saw the medkit inside, with a uniform and helmet.
Candace had showed her that Hollow Dome mirrored Warfare 8’s Hollow City, but in real time, with real players. Wendy had watched her brother John play the game enough to know that meant that each store, once searched, held goods for the player who was lucky enough to stumble upon it.
Opening the medkit revealed bandages, disinfectant, and the Hail Mary of medicine—a gold vial filled with the antidote to morphling venom. Quickly, she bandaged her hands, changed into the suit, and took the injector gun and vial and pocketed them in the side pouch on her hip. She was about to leave when Candace gestured to the helmet.
“No, not really my thing,” Wendy said. But the shadow was adamant.
“Fine.” She grabbed the helmet, and continued to tear the back room apart looking for any other loot, spoils, and some kind of weapon. Giving up on finding a weapon, she placed the helmet on her head. The visor lit up across the top, but she ignored the words and searched the last room, to no avail.
This store had been looted. There wasn’t anything left to take, so she’d have to brave the streets and search another structure. But she had to get past the morphlings.
She suspected it would not be easy, and unlike anything she’d faced before. The morphlings here on Neverland were corporeal forms, more solid than light and shade when they had attacked at her school or town. Back then, they had been farther from their source, stretched on their tether, and the farther they got, the more ethereal and weaker they became. But now they were close to their source, and they were strong. Which is why Wendy needed a gun. She didn’t think she’d have time to try and fry a morphling with construction lamps again. This was like fighting a whole new enemy.
The word SOLD appeared across her visor, and Wendy frowned but otherwise ignored the blinking text— until a map pulled down over her eyes, forcing her attention, first to the blinking light over what appeared to be this building, apparently marking her location. Then she became excited, as a little icon of a gun lit up over the sporting good store right next door.
“Well, that’s handy.”
Wendy tiptoed to the door and scanned the streets for movement. It was empty. Giving herself a mental countdown, she opened the door and rushed to the next shop over. Unfortunately, the sporting good store was locked.
Grabbing a decorated pot, Wendy smashed through the decaled glass window and stepped through into the dim interior, heading passed the counter into the back room. Boxes. The room was filled with hundreds of boxes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she groaned, kicking them over, knocking them aside, until she felt one that was weighted. Looking inside, she found her first weapon. A bat.
If John could see her now, no doubt he’d advise her to level up her weapon ASAP. She would have to keep searching. The gun icon was still blinking, so she hadn’t found her target yet.
Chapter 37
John’s hands were sweating as the Red Skulls searched the motor yacht. He’d been escorted at gunpoint to the end of the dock as they thoroughly searched the ship. They must not have found Dr. Mee or Dr. Barrie particularly threatening, because when the Red Skulls were done, the two of them were ordered back onto the yacht with instructions to take her back out to sea and stay within two miles of the island. If they came any closer, they would be shot down.
Beads of cold perspiration pooled down his neck and he carefully wiped them
away and looked at his Rolex in pretend irritation. “I’m going to be late,” he huffed.
“Hold your horses,” the Red Skull growled. “What’s your name again?”
John took a deep breath and spelled out the code name and handle he had taken from the email—Dealbr8kr42.
The Red Skull found his name and checked it off the list. “You’re the last one. Trying to make an entrance, are you?”
“Trying to get fired, are you?” John snapped back. “Nothing irritates me more than waiting.”
The Red Skull glared at him and motioned for him to be escorted to the War Room.
“Got here any later, and you wouldn’t have been able to get in,” the Red Skull chastised as they drove into an underground garage that was half submerged in water. They parked the truck and John hopped out. Water sloshed in his shoes, but he ran up to an area that wasn’t submerged in water and watched as the door was sealed behind him.
John was careful to turn his head slowly side to side, recording as much of the layout as he could, hopefully giving Tootles enough information for him to teleport inside. The problem was that it was dark and hard to see once the door was closed. Two Red Skulls escorted John away from the tunnels, where they passed parked surplus trucks and a freight elevator.
Together they walked up a few flight of stairs, and through an armed door, that had to be deactivated, into an office building. From there he was taken into a smaller elevator, where the Red Skull punched in a code using the five floor buttons. The doors closed and they went up to the top floor of a five-story building. When the doors opened, he was shoved out into a square room with windows on all sides filled with men of all ages.
John swallowed nervously but kept his head held high as he studied the other investors. Luckily, he wasn’t overdressed or underdressed. Some of the big-name gamers—two he even recognized—came in wearing T-shirts and jeans.
“The buy-in,” a gravelly voice greeted him. John turned and saw Hook. He had heard much about him, had seen him on the computer screen, but had never met the man face-to-face.
“Uh, here.” John held up the briefcase and watched as Hook laid it on a table and snapped it open, turning the case to show a gray-haired man reclining in a chair.
“Good, good.” The man rose from the chair, came over and shook his hand. “I’m President Helix. Welcome to the unveiling of Warfare Infinity.” He gestured to the group to come before a large TV screen.
“In ten minutes, you will be seeing the first ever live-action Warfare Infinity. You know my games create billions in revenue. Warfare has been the hottest game series for the last ten years, and I’ve always, always been the first to monopolize when the time is right. Well, gentlemen and gamers, I bring you the first ever live battle royale.”
Helix pointed to a screen, where a video began playing, describing the Hollow Dome, the real version of the game that is played online. “We matched it building for building, created new levels and traps, and of course as the gamer, you have the option of participating. Select your real-life avatar.”
A selection of teenage avatars like the ones shown online appeared on the screen. John had seen them already, the very real replicas of Peter and the others.
“Each of them have already been battle tested and have a special ability. Additional abilities or upgrades can be purchased for a fee, and we will take them out of the game and adjust them accordingly to what you purchase. But remember, like any game, there’s a slight chance that your avatar won’t adapt to a new ability.”
Grumblings came from the investors, and Helix grinned. “Those are the chances you take.”
“So why video games? You’ve got the troops. Why not mercenaries for hire?” Diego asked.
“War and politics are messy and unpredictable. Soldiers for hire are only profitable during wars in countries of unrest. In video games, there’s profit to be made twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year, all over the world. It’s guaranteed money”, Helix glanced over to Hook, and rubbed his hands together. “Are they ready?”
Hook looked at his watch and down at his tablet. He frowned at what he saw on the screen. “I will go motivate them.”
Hook stepped out of the room and John was about to follow him when Helix turned and looked at him. John froze in his tracks.
“Now, where were we? Oh yes, you can play as one of the new Dusters, or play as the bad guys and select a shade, then unleash one on your opponents,” Helix said, his voice rising in excitement.
John’s head snapped up as an index of morphlings scrolled across the screen, all different animal-like shapes. There were hundreds. His hands began to sweat again, and he rubbed them on his pants.
“If your shade is killed, no worries, regenerate a new one for a fee.”
A celebrity gamer, with gold chains and his hat on backwards, who John recognized as Killz4realz, or Killz for short, spoke up, “So we don’t actually control these avatars? Is that what I’m hearing? That sounds lame.”
Helix shook his head. “No, you don’t need to. They have a life of their own, or should I say, your own. You pay for them. They’re yours. You become their owner. Think of it like this—I’m giving you the chance to be an owner of an NFL player of video games. Your avatar needs medicine. Well, you can buy it and an icon will appear in their visor and lead them to a medkit hidden in the world. If they need a real-life doctor, well, that’s going to cost you too. We have staff on hand for this sort of thing. You see what the avatars see through their visors and through their suit cameras. If you want to upgrade their weapons, you purchase the upgrade and their visor will lead them to where it is hidden in the world map.”
“And what’s in it for us? We’re the ones spending the money and what do we get out of it?”
“Royalties, stock options, book deals—think of what your player could make you. But once the timer clock starts, the game never ends. It is perfect for the twenty-four-hour gamer. The stakes get more interesting because these avatars are real humans, with their own choices, and you never know what they will do. They eat, breath, sleep, and you can choose to lead them to where there’s food and help, or ignore your player and they may perish while you take a nap or run to the restroom.”
Helix handed out a computer tablet to an investor and touched a button on the screen. “Each of them is wearing a helmet, which allows you to see in first person what they are seeing.
“But what if my avatar chucks his helmet?” Killz asked.
Helix grinned smugly. “Click here”—he tapped the map on the tablet—“and you can switch to one of Hollow Dome’s many cameras.”
“I want one of those,” one of the older men spoke up, and Helix obliged, handing out the tablets. Soon every single person had one and was scrolling through their options and playing with the Hollow’s cameras.
“This is real?” Killz asked.
“Look out the window below,” Helix answered. “You are in the Hollow Dome as we speak, in a fully secured building, where you can watch the action below.” The group moved to the window, from where they had a full view of the city.
John recognized it from the Warfare 8 game he played online. It was a perfect replica, and what’s more, John knew this game, knew how to play it, except for the morphlings. This was a new feature, both brilliant and terrifying.
John adjusted his glasses and tried to take in the surrounding city. He inwardly cussed and backed away from the glass. What if Tootles couldn’t teleport into the garage and used the city he’d just glanced at as a collection point. He would be teleporting Jax and the others right into the middle of the war game.
John moved farther and farther away until he was in a corner sitting and staring at the wall, his hands over his glasses. What should he do? He didn’t have a way to communicate with the others on the yacht.
“Ah, they’ve arrived.” Helix pointed to the street, and the group moved to the windows to look. John looked on his tablet and clicked the Wonderland Games building, an
d the camera zoomed in, allowing him to observe the inside of the dome remotely. The floor slowly opened, and through the wide gap, three lifts rose up from below, carrying at least thirty players all dressed in black, who John knew to be Red Skulls. Immediately, they scattered, each running in pairs or teams down different roads. A few went off by themselves.
Helix clapped his hands together and pointed to the men in the room. “Which one of you will lose to the other first? I’ve taken your buy-in and loaded the money as in-game credits on your tablet. If that’s not enough, link up your credit cards.”
Some, already feeling the pressure, pulled out their wallets and began to load their credit cards, which of course he didn’t have.
Helix was feeding a gambling and video game addiction in one. Killz began scrolling furiously through the screen. Others had picked up their tablets and had begun the selection.
“This, my friends, is the experience you will only get from us. That’s where the risk is and the biggest gamble. Do you yourself dare to eat, sleep, or nap? What will happen if you leave for one second?”
John’s heart thudded in his chest at the excitement and adrenaline that was coursing through him. His gamer’s competitiveness was kicking in—he understood the opportunity he was being presented. It was empowering and pure genius, and he began to scroll through the avatars a little closer. Intuitively, he began to weed through ones that he didn’t like, their powers not conducive to taking out morphlings, but then he saw that they were cheaper. The Dusters were each tagged with a price according to their strengths and abilities.
“Sixty thousand for a guy with super speed?” one investor whined.
“If you don’t want him, Diego, I will buy him,” Killz taunted. “Done, Wu Zan is mine. Take that. You’ll never catch me now. You think you got me beat online, well, let’s see who has deeper pockets.”
“Oh yeah, well, I just got one named Pilot. We will see whose super speed is more super,” Diego teased. Diego and Killz began to taunt each other mercilessly.