Patting his arsenal with pleasure, Kurt stepped up and strapped himself into a parachute before slipping a pair of goggles over his eyes. He turned and hit the button to open the small door in the ramp. Bracing himself against the sudden wind whipping around the cargo bay, he leaned forward and took a few deep breaths. On the third time he stepped forward, he actually managed to summon the willpower to let himself fall.
After he landed and unclipped the parachute, leaving it where it fell, he stepped quickly into the nearby subway entrance. Remembering what had happened last time, Kurt was a bit more specific about his landing zone, ensuring he was near a way out before coming to the ground. The NPCs around him didn’t seem to notice or care that he was wearing a simple black t-shirt with guns strapped to him in plain view. They moved out of his way and averted their gaze, but none of them screamed or reached for phones.
Sparing a glance at his map, Kurt leaned against a wall in the loading zone. His safehouse was near, but would take a couple of minutes to arrive, so he frowned in thought as he looked at the upgrade button attached to his safehouses page. Perhaps it was impulsive, but he felt he could spare the money, and held his thumb to the button, confirming his purchase for 2.5 million in clean cash. The upgrade window informed him he now had storage room for twenty outfits, five suits of armor, twenty firearms, and five million in dirty cash.
He noticed the difference in his safehouse immediately, as the train pulled into the station. The windows were solid black, no planks covering them, and the door had altered itself slightly as well. When he approached it, he noticed the lack of a key or card slot in the door. In lieu of those, a simple black panel was set in the recess alongside the door. Kurt stepped up and pressed his open palm into it, confident of what it was. The panel lit up as it scanned his hand, a blue light sweeping back and forth once before the door slid open, smooth and quiet.
The floor in front of him caught his notice immediately, a swirl of crimson embedded into each onyx tile. The wall directly across from him was smooth metal, but painted in a similar color scheme as the floor, curving gently upward to form an arch in the ceiling of the car. He stepped inside, allowing the door to close as ball shaped lamps embedded in the ceiling flicked on, gentle light splashing across the rest of his safehouse. Overall, it seemed to have a nightclub theme, as the seating had all been replaced with leather wrapped booths facing each other, and a tiny bar was present at the short wall to the rear of the car. Kurt was pleased to discover a brass piped coffee machine behind the bar, and swung open the tiny wooden door to make himself a cup.
Contentedly sipping his steaming beverage as the train gently swayed into motion, Kurt moved to explore the rest of his newly upgraded safehouse. The bar and lounge area was small, and tucked away into the back of the car. Up front, the car was dominated by two floor to ceiling dark wood armoires nestled into each corner with an open space in front of them. The armoire doors slid open on rails, displaying a full body mannequin in each. At the push of a button, the mannequins cycled back into the depths of the armoires, vanishing behind a curtain that implied impossible depth to each storage unit.
His cash storage area was suspiciously missing, a secondary seating lounge in its place. Upon closer inspection, he discovered a small square of metal encasing a black plastic screen on the wall behind one of the benches. Pressing his thumb to the plastic caused a light to scan the digit, before a metallic click sounded from beneath the bench. The panel there slid out, a long drawer extending on rails part way out into the walkway. He noticed his dirty cash already in place, filling only a small area of the drawer. A simple thumb press to the panel on the wall closed the safe again, and he nodded in appreciation of the storage compartments elegant simplicity.
Kurt turned back with a smile, looking at the weapons storage. It was sunk into the wall, a simple glass panel door sliding along a rail allowing access. When he slid open the smoked glass, he was made painfully aware how limited his collection was, with only a few of the pistol section pegs holding any spare weapons. He lovingly caressed his Maxim 9, hung at the top of the rack, thinking about when he might be able to use it again. “Ah well, someday.”
Taking a sip of his coffee, Kurt happily plopped into a comfortable leather loveseat attached to the wall of the car across from the weapons storage. He pulled up his phone and sent off a text to Jimmy and Gadot to explain that he was logging off for a while. He finished his cup of coffee and set it down on the seat beside him, watching as it fell to silver dust and faded away. Swiping to the log off option on his phone, he closed his eyes and exited the game.
His natural hearing clicked back into place, causing him to immediately regret his choice of timing for log off. “He’s still on that game?” It was his mother’s voice, coming from the kitchen where he presumed his father was getting a head start on dinner.
Proving him correct, his father spoke next, the sound of the kitchen sink partially masking his words. “Yes, he is. He said something about helping Jimmy in there this weekend.”
“Oh good, he can fall even further behind then.” His mother sounded annoyed. He knew she meant well, but it was taxing how much she seemed to expect from him at times.
Tuning his parent’s gentle argument out, Kurt logged into the internet and stared at a blank search bar for a moment before using an immersion display to key in the words: “What should I do with my life?”
The results were predictably less than helpful. A smattering of nonsensical gibberish designed to make people feel better about their impending mortality led the way, phrases like ‘live laugh love’ being repeated in various permutations, no real meaning attached to any of them aside from the vague sense of contentment they were supposed to offer. Waving what he thought of as nonsense, fluff, and inane babble away, he delved into career placement pages. Sifting through those was somewhat more helpful, but nothing really popped out at him as a solution.
Past the more practical applications came a handful of deeper philosophical pages, dedicated to the concept of existence and what pursuits were thought of as meaningful throughout history. Again, no real solution to his problem, and nothing he would think of as an answer, fascinating as it was. The search engines next suggestion was a conversation attached to a popular website that specialized in such things. One could post almost anything, and others would come in to answer the questions. As he expected, the answers section was filled with unhelpful nonsense. Suggestions for sexual preferences were mixed in with stories of emotionally fulfilling pet ownership, unprovoked vulgarities, and statements of purpose based in financial security. One particularly confusing tangent became obsessed with old flannel shirts and was plagued with several pictures of lumberjacks.
Just as he was about to give up on the website, one of the threads attached to the question seemed to take it seriously. “If you feel lost in life, try making something. It doesn’t have to be anything grand. Maybe even just a meal. There is peace to be found in working with your hands, or your mind. Write a song, a poem, or paint a picture. Carve something out of wood, if you can afford it, or write a book. Even if what you create is terrible, there is undeniable contentment to be had in the act of creation. Improve yourself, or the world around you, just a tiny bit.”
Kurt made a quick decision and logged off entirely, gently removing the plug from the side of his head. He walked into the kitchen and saw his father’s back to him, as he washed something in the sink. “Hey dad? Would you teach me how to cook?”
14. Educational Experiences
Chapter 14
Educational Experiences
Dinner went well. Sort of. Kurt was happy about working alongside his father, and he genuinely enjoyed himself. For his part, his father was absolutely thrilled to begin the process of teaching his son how to cook, after years of indifference on the subject. Bell peppers hollowed out and stuffed with ground beef (cultured of course), diced tomatoes, onions, rice, and sharp cheddar cheese was the entirety of the menu and they ended
up being delicious. Kurt’s didn’t stand up to the stuffing and became piles instead of peppers, but his father assured him he did well for a first attempt, and they were rather tasty despite being a mess.
A highlight of the meal was his mother’s good mood. Kurt felt amazing seeing her smile at him while eating the sloppy pepper mess on her plate. She expressed that she was pleased with him for taking an interest in something practical, and they discussed the possibilities of his future with a jovial outlook. Beyond that, he kept thinking about the advice he had read online and found it to resonate true. As he looked at the mush on his plate, he felt a swell of pride that it was edible and tasty, but most importantly that he had made it.
It seemed like a simple thing, but it made him feel good. When Kurt hugged his parents and went to his couch to log back into the game, he was in a great mood. Seeing Kitty again would be cake after he had helped make dinner, after all. His plug securely in place, he closed his eyes and swiped to log in.
The now familiar rumble of his safehouse was immediately pleasing as his other senses loaded in. Kurt cheerfully stepped up to his wardrobe and pulled his grey and blue suit from the mannequin, shrugging into it. His newly upgraded armored vest felt a little bit stiffer, but when he looked at it in the mirror, he couldn’t tell the difference so he shrugged and went about ensuring his various weapons and consumable items were securely in place. After he was dressed and equipped, he pulled up his contacts and called Jimmy.
“Hey man, what’s up?” His friend was customarily cheerful, their turbulent exchange already forgotten.
“I helped make dinner!” Kurt exclaimed his accomplishment with a child-like sense of glee. “We doin this pirates thing or what?”
“Ha-ha! Yeah man, c’mon down to the new joint and we’ll all go together.” Jimmy paused for a moment. “Hang on, I’ll patch you in.”
Gadot’s voice sounded after a click. “You have to come check this place out! Jimmy built us a full on training course, it’s awesome.” She was in high spirits.
“Right on, send me a waypoint and I’ll grab a taxi.” Kurt swiped to his map to check the waypoint as it arrived. It led to a warehouse near the coastal front of the city, directly west of the downtown cluster, at the edge of GoonStorm turf.
“Oh hey, that reminds me. I’m sorry we got your first car trashed like that, it was kind of mean.” Kurt could hear the smile in Gadot’s voice. “I mean, totally worth it, but still pretty mean.”
“Yeah man, super mean. We feel TERRIBLE.” Jimmies voice was somewhat less sincere than Gadot’s had been a moment before.
“Shut up Jimmy!” She snorted a laugh as she chided him, causing Kurt to scowl. “Seriously though Kurt, we’ve decided we owe you a proper car. Loads of ways to get great cars, so don’t worry, we’re going to get you a set of wheels.”
“…You guys are drunk.” He scowled again, the expression becoming a part of his permanent repertoire. Kurt shook his head and shrugged. “But yeah, I’ll be there soon.”
With that, he cut the coms link and ordered a taxi. It was waiting for him as he arrived on the main street, stopped behind a bored looking GoonStorm patrol at a light. Kurt didn’t even hesitate this time, blending in with the civilians around him as he walked right up to the cab, ignoring the other players entirely. He glanced at the progress bar on his disguise skill once inside the vehicle and moving away, pleased to see it steadily climbing again.
Inside of ten minutes, his cab arrived at what looked like an abandoned warehouse. The driver had to wind through a handful of other warehouses lined up in an industrial area, most of them thriving with NPC workers. Kurt narrowed his eyes as he took in the building that was apparently part of his Crew.
Warped metal siding hung slackly from supports, covered in graffiti and edged in on all sides by loose garbage. The one thing out of place from the picture was the windows, which Kurt noted with some surprise were not only intact, but high up from the ground and visibly thick. He also was somewhat confused to see that the door was in excellent shape as he approached, heavy steel framing it. Standing in the street glaring at the run-down building, Kurt thought the only thing missing was a population of exuberant rodents.
Kurt tried to pull the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. After giving it a few sharp knocks, he waited until a piece of it at eye level slid sideways. A pair of eyes he didn’t recognize glared at him for a few seconds before a series of heavy locks could be heard being opened. A tall woman with shoulder length silver hair stood imposingly in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She was well muscled, and stood half a head higher than Kurt, dressed in combat pants and a white sports bra.
“Password.” Even her voice was intimidating, a growl more than words, and she was in no way asking a question.
“What??” Kurt became painfully aware he didn’t know of any password as he stood in front of this frightening yet erotic woman.
“Fine.” She growled again as she moved aside. Once he was inside, she slid the door closed and reapplied the various deadbolts and locks. “This way.”
The woman led him through the nondescript entrance and the building changed entirely. They passed through a series of three small empty rooms, with heavy locked doors on either side. Kurt looked up to see a covered walkway above the room, with what looked like armor plating along the sides, and perfect line of sight to the rooms below. He was reminded of the murder holes in the entrance to Gadot’s hub in the Downtown Cluster.
She opened the last door in the series and let Kurt into a lounge. Huge leather couches were scattered about the room, surrounding a bar set against the wall beneath a movie theater screen. Jimmy and Gadot had an old heist movie on, but were ignoring it, laughing and chatting in a long leather couch. Kurt noticed that they were not sitting on opposite ends of the couch.
“Heeeeey, there he is!” Jimmy had been at the fake booze, and was clearly intoxicated. “Told you he’d get the password.” He stumbled slightly as he rose to cross the room and embrace Kurt. “You gotta check this place out dude. Our new Hub!”
Gadot stood, steadying herself on the armrest of the couch. “Yeah, this place is great. Jimmy designed and paid for the whole thing. It’s like a training center.” She was smiling and flushed.
Kurt looked at each of them for a moment, deciding to relax a little. “Looks cool so far. You guys been just watching old movies and drinking since I left or what?”
Jimmy held a hand to his chest. “You wound me sir! That part has only been like the last hour. C’mon, I’ll show you around.” He looked past Kurt to the tall woman standing behind him, her arms still crossed. “Oh right! Tigg, this is Kurt. Kurt, say hi to Tigg. I paid extra to get a specialist NPC to run the place.”
Cautiously, Kurt looked over his shoulder. Offering the towering woman a small wave, he put on a small but intimidated smile. “Hi Tigg.” He turned back to Jimmy. “Who is Tigg?”
“Tigg is the training officer for the Lace. She operates this hub for us.” Jimmy swept his arms wide, gesturing around him. “Once we get some NPC troops, she’ll lead them too. Here, ask her to give you a quick lesson on handguns while Gadot and I sober up. Only takes like fifteen minutes after you stop drinking.”
Kurt looked back at Tigg for a moment. “Uh, ok. Tigg, can you teach me how to shoot a handgun please?”
“This way.” She moved to a large rollaway door at the opposite end of the lounge, pulling it up with a single powerful motion.
Beyond the door was a full-size firing range, with a dozen lanes stretching out from a small armory room. Tigg stepped up to one of the lanes, tapping the tablet on the wall and bringing it to life. Large lights clicked on overhead and the firing lane lit up as a paper target materialized at the fifty-yard line. With an impatient gesture, she beckoned Kurt over to her.
“Beginner, intermediate, or expert lesson?” Her voice was still a growl, but Kurt was getting more and more used to it.
“Uh, I don’t actually know. I’ve been do
ing ok using them over the last few days, but…” He shrugged, removing his new Walther from its holster.
“Beginner then. Show me your form.” Tigg was impatient, leaning against the wall of the firing lane. She pressed a button on the tablet and the target slid much closer, stopping at the fifteen-yard line. Jimmy and Gadot stood back, watching with great interest as Kurt stepped up to the firing line and assumed his shooters stance. “No.”
Tigg stepped forward, taking Kurt’s forearms in her hands and making a few quick adjustments. She moved his supporting hand to cup the hand holding the gun and better support it. “This hand is for recoil, grip firmly, but do not yank. You are not shooting with this hand, you are helping THIS hand shoot. Finger off the trigger. Your finger does not touch the trigger until you are shooting.” She kicked lightly at one foot. “Wider. Your stance determines stability.”
Adjusting his stance and concentrating on what she said, Kurt looked over his shoulder to see Jimmy and Gadot whispering to each other and smiling. Jimmy flashed him a quick thumbs up, and Kurt gave him a grimace in reply.
“Pay attention. You don’t pay attention when shooting, you shoot the wrong things.” She looked him over again, stepping behind him and making a slight adjustment to his right elbow. “Ok, not bad. Give me a magazine on target.”
Kurt nodded, and then began to fire. He was painfully aware of how off target many of his shots were, but at such a close range he still managed to get most of them inside the main target area on the circular bit of paper. Tigg pressed her finger to the tablet and the paper target slid towards them on an overhead rail.
She tore it off the cardboard backing and shook her head. “Again.” A quick swipe at the tablet caused a fresh target to materialize. Tigg dropped his other target, and it fell to dust before it hit the floor. As Kurt took aim, she stepped up behind him and peered over his shoulder. “Slowly. Squeeze the trigger gently, don’t yank on the gun. This is an act of precision, without emotion, void of expectation. This is not to impress your friends, or feel like a bigger man. You are operating a machine, treat it as such. Line up the sights, picture where you want the bullet to go, and make that happen.”
The Life- Illusion Page 23