Rise of the Grandmaster

by Bradford Bates

  “Back.” Muscles grinned as he took a step forward.

  “Of.” He closed the distance between them.

  “The.” He put his hand on Tim’s chest and shoved him backward.

  “Line.” Muscles flexed at him again.

  He’d tried doing things the right way, but some guys were just too damn stubborn to listen to reason. Was flexing your muscles supposed to scare him? Guys back home didn’t flex if they wanted to hurt you, they just punched you. Telling someone you were going to hurt them before you did it just gave them a chance to get away.

  Tim had never been much of a runner.

  The crowd was cheering the bastard’s antics, and it was making him bolder. Tim felt his hands clench into fists.

  No.

  He wouldn’t lose his head now. He’d worked too fucking hard to get to this point to lose it all over some macho bullshit. All he had to do was wait for the security guard from the front door to get here. He could see him limping toward them from the corner of his eye.

  The man wouldn’t be able to help him in a fight. From the looks of it, walking to meet them was a struggle. He was at least seventy years old and had a cane in one hand. The growing scowl on the man’s face was a pleasant development.

  Maybe there was a way he could use this to his advantage.

  Scenarios spiraled through Tim’s mind. The easiest plan was to say something nasty to Muscles about Tim having enjoyed his time with his mother last night. The guy would hit him, and all he had to do was stay down. Getting the crap kicked out of him on his way to the interview was a surefire way to gain some sympathy from the hiring manager.

  On the other hand, the security guard might get hurt. If this were a game, Tim wouldn’t think twice about sacrificing the man to get what he wanted. Pixels didn’t have feelings. A win was a win.

  But this wasn’t a game.

  Muscles took another step forward with his hand extended to push Tim in the chest again. Every instinct Tim had told him to swat the limb away and attack. A bully never learned a lesson until someone put them in their place.

  Instead, he took a step back, his decision made.

  “I know I didn’t stutter.” Mr. Testosterone pointed his muscled arm toward the back of the line. “Turn around before you’re too broken to enjoy what’s inside.”

  Why was it so easy to start a fight, and so hard to get out of one? Tim pointed behind the brute. “Why don’t we let Security settle this?”

  “That’s a great idea, loser. He’s already bounced four people today.” Muscles turned and shouted to the guard, pointing back over his shoulder at Tim. “This asshole’s cutting in line.”

  The security guard’s eyes flicked toward the man with a look of annoyance, and yet he still found a way to turn his scowl into a tight-lipped professional smile. The security guard shook his head as he stared at the burly man, giving Tim the impression this wasn’t the first time he’d had to deal with him today.

  The security guard locked eyes with the brute, making Tim rethink his stance on whether the man would be able to help him in a fight. When he was satisfied Muscles wasn’t going to interrupt him, the security guard turned to face Tim. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

  Muscles shoved Tim out of the way. “I told you, Grandpa. He cut in line. Just say the word, and I’ll take care of this for you.”

  The security guard’s smile turned into a frown. He jabbed a finger into Muscles’ chest and got right up in his face. It wasn’t the kind of fire you’d expect to see from an older man with a knee brace.

  The security guard didn’t even look worried as he jabbed him a few more times to get his point across. “Get back in line.” He pointed toward the crowd of people. “If I get one more complaint about you, you’re done here.”

  Muscles looked at Tim and the security guard. “Awwww, come on. I was just trying to help,” he whined as he stomped back to his place in line.

  The security guard turned back toward Tim and motioned for him to follow him. The man stopped once they were out of earshot of the crowd. “That’s better.” He stuck a finger in his ear and rubbed it around before pulling it out and looking at it. “How can I help you today?”

  It was weird, but Tim thought the man’s voice sounded familiar. He looked at the name pinned on the right side of his uniform. Jeffery Oak. The man had faint stubble on his face, but as far as Tim could tell, the rest of him was completely hairless. He had to know if the man was who he thought he was, but he also had to answer his question.

  “I have an appointment with Christine.” Tim tried his best to look professional, but he was afraid that ship had sailed.

  The security guard pulled out his phone and flicked through a few images on the screen. He stopped on one and then held his phone up in the air, looking from the screen to Tim and back again. “Mr. Price?”

  Tim nodded.

  He cocked his head toward the door. “Right this way, please.”

  Fuck it. Maybe he hadn’t left all of the old neighborhood behind after all. Tim turned and waved bye-bye at the muscle-bound jerk before catching up with the guard.

  “Thanks for the help back there.”

  The guard laughed, flashing Tim his first genuine smile. “I’d kick him out of line, but frankly, it’s easier for us to ban him after he comes inside and willingly provides us all of his personal information.”

  It reminded Tim of the cops sending out fliers for free tvs to people with warrants. They’d show up and get arrested. Bet they wished they’d paid those parking tickets now.

  Tim laughed as the guard led him inside and past the giant screening room everyone was waiting to file into. Were all these people here just to watch a trailer? He wondered if it was the same one NPC Corp had played at graduation. If it was, these people were in for a treat—but not one worth waiting three hours to see.

  Wait, was that where Tim had heard the guard’s voice before? It couldn’t be, but he had to know for sure. How did you ask someone if they played a surly dwarf in an unreleased videogame without sounding like you were totally off your rocker?

  Jeffery used the card attached to his belt to open a panel next to the door. Once the panel had opened, a chin rest appeared in front of the screen. The man who might or might not have been a dwarven tank placed his chin on the scanner, and a green light mapped his face while a red one scanned his eyes.

  Tim wondered what kind of place this was that they needed biometric security. Was there something valuable on campus, or were they making sure nobody could get out? It might not be wrong to say a steady diet of videogames and horror movies had made him a paranoid person.

  The magnetic locks on the door to the left of the panel snapped open, and the door slid into the opposite wall with a hiss of compressed air. Tim didn’t want to know how fast that door could close. NPC’s security seemed like overkill. Then again, he wasn’t the one with trillions on the line.

  Tim followed the guard inside, and the door closed behind them. They were standing in a long, narrow hallway that was sealed at both ends. The only things that weren’t white were the black panels located next to either door. He was starting to freak out. This corridor felt much more like it belonged in Resident Evil than at a gaming company. Maybe this had all been a mistake.

  Jeffery repeated the sequence on the next door. When it opened, the guard moved out of the way.

  “They’ll call me to bring you back out when this is over.” He gave Tim a warm smile and started limping back the way they had come. “Reception’s on your left.”

  “Hey,” Tim called to the retreating guard. “This is going to sound weird, but do I know your voice from somewhere?”

  Jeffery smiled and gave Tim a wink. “Maybe you saw my video.”

  That was it. This old security guard was the dwarf from the video.

  No fucking way! What did you say to someone who was obviously badass?

  Tim started walking through the door, but paused in front of Jeffe
ry and looked deep into his eyes. “They played the video at graduation. It was a huge hit. You have to tell me, is it worth it?”

  Jeffery beamed. “Every damn second.” He leaned close to Tim as if he wanted to tell him a secret. “But first you have to survive what comes next.”

  Tim watched open-mouthed as the old man limped away. “What in the hell does that mean?”

  He didn’t get a response. Jeffery opened the door at the other end of the hallway, leaving Tim to wonder about the wisdom of his recent life choices.

  There was only one door open to him now, so he stepped through it and into another solid white corridor. The door hissed closed behind him, and the locks snapped into place with solid-sounding thuds.

  Tim’s hands were sweating, and his heart was racing. What in the fuck had he gotten himself into? Was he going to wake up in a bathtub full of ice missing his kidneys? He looked around.

  Selling illegal organs would explain how NPC Corp paid their employees so well.

  There was only one way out now, and it was forward. There was a ninety-percent chance the fucking dwarf was just screwing with him, but he had sure set the mood. If he ever stopped playing The Etheric Coast, he could probably get work in scary movies.

  He’d be the perfect guy to look into the camera and say, “They went into the woods, and they were never heard from again.”

  Chapter Four

  The solid white ceiling, walls, and floor did nothing to ease Tim’s mind. It felt like he was in a hospital, or maybe a slaughterhouse. Each step forward was an exercise of determination.

  Wasn’t this what had happened in Hostel? One moment they thought life was great, hot chicks wanting to sleep with them. The next thing, they were strapped to chairs, with some guy bitching about how he failed med school while he’s cutting their fingers off.

  Tim made it to the corner. Bracing his back against the wall, he edged closer until he was in a position to peek into the room beyond.

  His heart found a new level of overdrive as he leaned out just enough for a quick peek.

  “BOO!”

  Tim jumped back and hit the wall on the other side of the hallway before crashing to the floor. He scuttled back, his mind screaming. What in the fuck was this? Was this it? Was he really going to be killed by someone who said, “Boo?”

  A blonde woman stepped around the corner, looking embarrassed. She held out a hand, offering to help him up. “Sorry about that, but Jeffery would have been so disappointed if I didn’t try. I’m Christine.”

  So, they were just screwing with him. Well, at least he wasn’t going to die. Two could play at that game.

  Tim clutched Christine’s outstretched hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. “Pleasure to meet you, Christine. I’m Tim.”

  Christine looked him over for a moment before motioning for him to follow her. “Let’s get started.”

  Tim smirked. She was probably wondering if he was mentally unstable. At least he hadn’t failed the interview by falling for their joke. Wait, if Christine knew Jeffery, was she in the video too?

  Christine moved out of Reception and down another hallway. “Normally I’d waste time with the whole spiel, but as you probably noticed, we’re quite busy today.”

  She opened the door to her office and motioned for Tim to take a seat. “Before we can get started, you have to sign an NDA. To save time, I’ll paraphrase it for you.”

  Placing a tablet in front of him, Christine scrolled to the bottom of the page, where Tim’s name was printed. “It’s two hundred pages of legalese to tell you one simple thing. If you fuck up and release information to the public, we own your ass.”

  “What do you mean by ‘own my ass?’” Tim made air quotes as he said it. He wasn’t comfortable with anyone claiming ownership over that particular part of his anatomy.

  She eyed him, one eyebrow raised. “Just think of everything you see here today as classified, and we won’t have a problem. Capiche?”

  Not understanding at all, Tim placed his thumb on the screen, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move on without signing.

  The screen flashed green, and a man in a nurse’s uniform walked into the room. Christine smiled warmly at the man. “Joe’s here to take a blood sample.”

  “No one said anything about needles.” Tim pushed himself as far back in his chair as he could. It wasn’t the prospect of pain that bothered him. He just didn’t like thinking about something being jabbed into his flesh for the explicit purpose of sucking his life-force out.

  “Ever have a friend with diabetes?” Joe asked. “That’s what this little machine is. It just pricks your skin enough to generate a bead of blood.”

  Joe went to work on his finger, and Christine continued her speech. “This is just to make sure your body reacts well to our serum. Otherwise, there is no point in continuing the interview.”

  Tim wiped his finger with the swab, and Joe put his blood into the machine for testing. “How many people fail the test?” How shitty would it be to come this far just to get rejected?

  “Less than one percent,” Christine stated happily. “With each iteration of the serum, the number shrinks. Eventually, anyone who wants to will be able to play our games.”

  Joe gave Christine a thumbs-up as he cleaned up. “See you for lunch later?”

  “Not today, but I’ll have time tomorrow.” She turned away from Joe and locked her predatory eyes on Tim.

  She looked at him like she hadn’t eaten in days. He felt like a hamburger.

  Christine handed Tim a tablet with a list of professions on the screen. “Normally we’d run you through a simulation to help you pick the profession that’s best suited to you, but like I said, we’re kind of busy today.”

  Tim scanned the list, looking for something interesting. There weren’t a ton of options left, which was not surprising, with the launch of the game being so close.

  How in the fuck was he supposed to choose?

  Stable boy. Hell, no.

  Chamber pot cleaner. Fuck that.

  Blacksmith’s apprentice. Now that had possibilities. He continued scanning the list, coming up with several decent options.

  Where were all the standard questions? How could he pick one without knowing how much he’d get paid? This was the strangest interview he’d ever been to.

  Christine tapped her nails on her desktop with impatience, drawing Tim’s attention to the cat figurine next to her monitor. A quick look around her office confirmed it was the only personal effect in the entire space. Her name was Christine, she had a cat on her desk, and she knew OakGut.

  Was this LadyCat?

  Looking slightly annoyed at how long he was taking, Christine offered him a sly smile. “Anything I can do to speed this along?”

  Tim’s face flushed. He never went into a situation without knowing all the outcomes. He felt lost here. None of his research had prepared him for this. “It’s just…” he paused, thinking about the proper way to phrase his question, “how do I pick a profession without knowing about compensation?”

  Christine looked bored as she rattled off the information. “All standard contracts are for a three-year duration. The POD fee, your in-game quarters, and a daily meal will be provided for you by the company. In return, you are required to work eight in-game hours a day at your chosen profession. What you do with the rest of your time in-game is your business.”

  Christine watched the screen while tapping on her keyboard for a few moments. She turned her chair back toward Tim. “Our standard offer for a basic profession is seventy-five thousand dollars in student loan repayment and eighty thousand dollars in salary, to be paid at the time of your contract’s fulfillment.”

  Tim was still trying to come to grips with the fact that the woman sitting across from him might be the leather-clad assassin from the game. Glancing at Christine, he tried to imagine her in the leather outfit. He shook his head to clear it; now was not the time to travel down that particular rabbit hole.

&
nbsp; The numbers made sense. While it was less than he’d make in the real world in the same timeframe, he had several additional benefits. His student loans wouldn’t accrue any interest while he was gone, and paying off a seventy-five thousand dollar chunk at once would lower his monthly payments significantly. Secondly, he wouldn’t have to pay rent, buy food, or keep a subscription to any services.

  The biggest problem with the offer was that he wouldn’t be able to help his family now. In three years they’d be fine, but until he got out of the game, they would be stuck. Maybe there was a way he could negotiate a monthly payout.

  Christine eyed him, one of her eyebrows curled in an expression that could only be a dare. “Please don’t ask if it was me in that stupid video.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask.” Tim looked back down at the tablet and mumbled, “At least, not yet.”

  “What was that?” Christine tapped her cat figurine, ignoring Tim’s protest. “Oh, fine, if you can’t help yourself.” She stood up dramatically. “It was me. I’m LadyCat.”

  “I knew it!” Tim exclaimed.

  Christine opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a plastic-sheathed screenshot of her character. With a flourish, she signed the picture, gently blew on the ink to make sure it was dry, then slid the picture back into the plastic envelope. She slid the picture over to him with a reverence normally reserved for a much holier text. “I’d hold onto it. Might be worth something someday.”

  Tim took the picture and slid it into the folder he’d brought copies of his resume in. He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of their conversation so far. Did she want the recognition or not?

  He decided it was better to be grateful. “I’ll cherish it.”

  “I don’t want to see it on eBay.” Christine grinned as she dropped gracefully back into her chair. “Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. As you can see, I’m a bit of a celebrity at the moment, and I’d like to enjoy it while it lasts.” She leaned her elbows on the desk and steepled her fingers. “To save time, if you sign in the next five minutes, I’ll bump your salary to a hundred thousand dollars. Student loan repayment remains the same.”