I look fucking awesome!
It was true. He kind of looked like Zorro without the hat and mask. Sneaking through the shadows dressed like this was going to be a cinch.
Tim glanced at the burly assassin, trying to keep his emotions in check. “It’s too much. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Just think of it as my little way of helping you along the right path. Who knows, there might even be a place for you in our gang someday,” Gaston rumbled.
“We’d have to check with the boss, of course.” Ernie stared at Gaston as if he’d lost his mind.
Ignoring the innkeeper, Gaston slapped a meaty hand on Tim’s back. “Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.” He went back to his seat and sat down heavily.
Ernie put a hand around Tim’s shoulders and started ushering him toward the door. “Remember to try to have a little fun tonight. It’s okay to take pleasure in a job well done.”
Was it really okay to feel good about killing someone? Should he ever cheer the death of another human? He thought about the videos he’d seen of the Towers falling, and bombs going off at marathons. Maybe some people did deserve to die. At least, in this case, it was just a game. No matter how real these characters felt, he wasn’t killing a living person.
Tonight was all about making the right choices, and completing the lady’s quest was the right way to go. He’d take out Dapper Don and get the stolen goods back to Lady Briarthorn. Eliminating the assassin got him one step closer to removing Jepsom from the equation and opening the temple for him to continue training.
And his percentage of the take should be a decent chunk of change.
The rain rattled on the overhang as he stepped outside. Tim thought about how badly he needed a cloak. Gaston had supplied the rest of his gear. At the very least, he could buy his own cloak. The market was on the way to the docks, so his walk home would be a good deal drier than his departure.
In life, there was always something to look forward to.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I look fucking epic.” Tim turned so he could see his entire outfit in the mirror.
Sure, he looked like the Dread Pirate Roberts in his black outfit, but without the mask, he wasn’t as fearsome. That changed the second he put on his new cloak. Somehow the hood hung perfectly to keep his face hidden in the shadows, and the material was light enough that it didn’t hinder his movements.
Now he looked more like the ranger Strider when Frodo first laid eyes on him. This getup was darker, though, just the kind of thing you would wear to jump out of the shadows and plunge a blade into someone. He wondered if people would treat him differently now that his outfit gave off a more dangerous vibe.
Tim loved feeling mysterious and dangerous, even if nobody else felt the same way as he walked past. None of the milling shoppers knew that under his cloak, he was armed to the teeth. Smiling as he turned to face the merchant, Tim pulled three silver from the pouch on his hip and handed them to her.
Three silver was probably too much for the simple black cloak, but could you really put a price on badassdom? Stepping back out into the crowd, Tim let them guide him through the merchant district. He doubted anyone was following him, but he was determined to be careful.
The last thing Tim wanted to do was draw unwanted attention, so he tilted his head down and let the cloak do its job as he put one foot in front of the other. Every now and then, he stopped and examined something from a stall, but he kept moving closer to his destination.
It might look odd to never buy anything. If anyone was watching him, it was a dead giveaway. Plus, he kind of looked like an assassin now, so more eyes might be on him than he was used to. Turning away from the street, he stopped at a fruit stall. He scanned the crowd briefly but didn’t see anything out of place before his eyes fell on an orange fruit he was very familiar with.
“How much for a rumpleberry?”
The merchant took in Tim’s appearance and hesitated for a second, then picked one up and tossed it to him. “Just a copper.”
Tim pulled out a small handful of the dull copper coins. “I’ll take a dozen.”
The merchant put them in the bag, and Tim handed him fifteen copper coins. “If these are as good as the first one, they’ll be worth the tip.”
“Best rumpleberries in town.” He waved away some imaginary naysayer. “Mark my words, you’ll never have finer.”
Tim thanked him again and faded into the crowd. He made a few more stops along the way, each time purchasing something small that he could give away or use. The point of the purchases wasn’t so much what he was buying, but the time it gave him to scan the crowd for unfriendly faces.
No one stood out. The crowd was starting to thin as people made their way to the inns and taverns to enjoy their night. A normal person would be thinking about heading to bed at this hour, or maybe out looking for the special kind of company provided by a like-minded individual. Tim’s purpose was much darker, yet he was excited as he edged closer to the docks.
Tim knew he’d have to get into a fight sooner or later. The best part of these games was the combat. Since he wasn’t out killing goblins and orcs like everyone else, he was going to get his first taste of it against another person.
He just had to remind himself it was only a game. If he killed Dapper Don… No, when he killed Dapper Don Diego, the cops weren’t going to come kicking in his inn-room door. This wasn’t the real world. He shouldn’t feel bad about slaughtering a few thousand lines of code.
Gaston and Ernie didn’t feel like ones and zeros.
There was more to them. The two men had a flavor and depth to their personalities that made them feel less like characters and more like people. This wasn’t like the games of old, where you had to skip over mountains of text to get to the exciting stuff. Here you didn’t even have to skip a scene because you’d played the game before. The Etheric Coast was different.
This world was persistent.
The story never went backward. No one entering the game today would have the same experience he was having now. The game world changed and evolved as the players took control of it. Everyone’s time in the game was unique. Sure, they might have to kill some of the same monsters, and maybe even go on duplicate quests, but there was so much more to it.
The Etheric Coast was alive, a living, breathing world of its own. In some ways, he liked it better than the real world. In others, he wished for home. They didn’t have memory foam pillows or Joe’s. He could really go for some fucking pancakes right about now.
Grits just didn’t cut it.
It was funny; thinking about home completely banished the voice in his head that was telling him to turn back. He was fine with what he was about to do. All the mental hand-wringing and back-and-forth thoughts about doing things the right way, and he finally realized there was no right way. Not here, not in this place. There was a sickness in the Temple of Eternia, and it needed to be cleansed.
He would be the one to cleanse it.
His mission as an agent of change had started with Dapper Don Diego. The man was about to learn that working for Cardinal Jepsom had an expiration date. The cardinal might think he’d already won the war, but Paul was still fighting, and Lady Briarthorn didn’t seem like the kind of woman who gave up. He’d picked the right side of the battle, so he had nothing to be ashamed of.
The cobbles under his feet shifted to wooden planks as he entered the dock area, which was so large that in most games, it would have been its own city. Tim moved through the sailors and deckhands as he followed the path on his mini-map. As the crowds on the docks thinned, Tim started using the shadows to stay out of sight.
He darted behind a pile of crates covered in old nets. The Mary Lou was nestled in a slip a few boats farther down the dock. Every inch of the way from here to the boat was dangerous. If he was going to succeed, no one could see him coming.
He sprinted between the dark spots like a pro using the joystick in an epic Frogger
match. Two, three, four times he ran, hiding in whatever cover the shadows provided. Ducking, Tim wrapped his cloak around him and tried to slow his breathing and calm his rapid heartbeat.
Wouldn’t it just be my luck to be found because I’m gasping like a fish?
Two men exited one of the nearby ships carrying lanterns and headed in Tim’s directions. He felt the shadows receding, and tried to think of a story they might buy to leave him alone. In the end, it would probably come down to a bribe. A few silver coins might steer them to the nearest tavern and keep them out of his business.
A plan started to form in his mind. He’d just pretend to be getting sick. Plenty of sailors returned from the tavern worse for wear. If they bought the ruse, awesome. If not, bribery was his next-best plan.
The light crept closer to where he was, and Tim hunched his back in preparation for playing the role of a lifetime.
“Not that way, you idiot.” One of the men grabbed the other by the shoulders and turned him so he was facing the city instead of the open sea. “Not unless you want to meet Davy Jones.”
The other man grumbled in response, and Tim sighed in relief as their lights started moving in the opposite direction. He waited for a moment, taking stock of where he was. There was no need to panic. Those men hadn’t been looking for him. Everything was still going according to plan. He let out a deep exhale, and a sense of calm crept over him.
I’d rather be lucky than good any day of the week.
Tim made his next three moves without hesitation, ending up lying on his belly behind a couple of low crates and some kind of tub for cleaning fish. Nothing said “not fun” like landing in a pile of fish guts. Some of the slimy little fuckers might have even made it inside his shirt. At least the game cleaned his clothes when he un-equipped them.
With laundry off the table, he might as well focus on how to board the ship. There was a single ramp leading from the dock to the deck of the massive ship. Tim looked at the ramp and shook his head. Running up the ramp was a surefire way to get noticed, and came with a heavy possibility of being filled with holes soon thereafter.
Guess I’m going swimming.
Thankfully, the developers made getting in and out of his equipment easy. Tim didn’t even have to worry about his clothes getting wet. He’d just un-equip them, swim toward the cargo net hanging off the side of the boat, and make his way toward the captain’s cabin. In and out, no problem. A smile started to spread across his lips
This might be easier than I thought.
“Shut up, you worthless piece of shit!” a man called as he started dragging a second man down the ramp.
Three more men followed the one in charge, and one of them was wearing an orange sash. Tim’s blood heated up at the sight of the man who had killed him. He wanted to run out and attack him but now wasn’t the time. Despite his training with Gaston, Tim wasn’t confident in his abilities to win a straight-up dagger fight against his nemesis, but he did feel confident planning, lying in wait, and springing from ambush to deliver a lethal strike.
“But I did everything you asked,” Martin pleaded as the man shoved him ruthlessly down the ramp.
Martin’s secret admirer had to be none other than Dapper Don Diego. Don covered the distance to the prone form of Matin in a heartbeat. A savage kick lifted the beggar into the air and he hit the dock, whimpering as another blow thudded into his side. Martin tried to roll away, but Don was faster.
Gasping for breath and standing gingerly on his kicking foot, Dapper Don Diego turned back toward the boat and shouted, “Did we not pay the man?”
“We did, indeed,” the man in the orange sash replied off-handedly as if seeing Martin getting the ever-loving crap kicked out of him was as normal as pouring himself a cup of coffee at breakfast.
“What good does that do me?” Martin pleaded. “They know who I am.” He clutched at Dapper Don’s boots. “Why can’t I just come with you?”
Don Diego kicked Martin’s hand free with disgust. “Juan Pablo, see that our friend here finds his way off the dock and make sure he doesn’t come back, yeah?” Dapper Don winked at the man with the orange sash before reaching down to pry the coin purse out of Martin’s hands. “You should have just taken the money.”
Juan Pablo kicked Martin in the side, and a cruel smile danced across his features. He picked the man up by the back of his pants and flung him toward the city. “Get up, you fucking maggot. It’s time for you to become the hunted.”
Don Diego looked down from the top of the ramp. “We don’t have time for that. Just make it quick.” He snapped. “I need you to find out if the cardinal has anything else for us to do before we shove off.”
“Can’t I watch him run?” Juan Pablo pointed at Martin as he got up and started sprinting down the docks. “See? He wants to play.”
“Be quick about it!” Don shouted at his henchman. “If we can catch the morning tide, I’d feel a lot better about things.”
Juan Pablo strolled lazily after the quickly-disappearing Martin. He looked like a man who had just had a big meal and was trying to walk off a carb coma. He seemed to savor every step as he continued down the docks in pursuit of his target. It was the thrill of the hunt. The only problem for Martin was, Juan Pablo wasn’t interested in catch-and-release.
After tonight, there might only be one name left on my list, Tim thought.
Dapper Don Diego pointed at the two remaining men. “See that he makes it back here on time.” He sighed dramatically and disappeared from sight.
The two men started making their way down the ramp. “I don’t know why we have to chase the bastard, it’s not like he’ll listen to us anyway,” the first guard bellyached.
“Guy gives me the fucking creeps,” the other man stated with all the diplomacy of a rhino snorting cocaine. “Let’s go get a beer and say he gave us the slip.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.” The two men laughed and headed off at a quicker pace.
Tim watched the two men leave, wondering how many were left on the ship. Sneaking up the ramp was still out of the question, but with Juan Pablo gone, he felt better about his chances. Seeing the two men together confirmed it was Jepsom who wanted him dead.
Who knew, this might even be fun.
Tim started un-equipping his gear lying naked in the remnants of the day’s catch. Hoping most of the fish guts would wash off, he slipped his toes into the briny water, trying not to make a sound. Inch by inch, he lowered himself until everything but his head was submerged.
“I’m off to see a pirate, because of the horrible things he does.” Fa-la-la-la-la.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There was cold, and then there was man-parts-trying-to-crawl-back-inside-you cold.
Yeah, big bodies of water got cold. He’d gone camping at Isle Royale in the summer. One of the highlights of the trip after hiking for three days was coming out on the coast. All of us smelly fuckers ran straight for the water, and then we ran right back out. It was freezing even in the middle of summer, but at least everyone had smelled better.
Taking a deep breath to ward off the chill, Tim pushed himself off one of the pylons and swam gently toward the side of the ship. He wondered if his ability to hide in the shadows worked as well if he was completely naked. The last thing he wanted was a video of him on the internet struggling to climb up the side of the ship as he took an arrow to the ribs and fell to his death.
At least in death, his balls would crawl back out from inside him.
He cursed the game developers for their twisted sense of humor. What good was an ocean if you couldn’t surf and go swimming? Did the NPCs have a vacation spot with warmer water? He wondered what else Ernie might be keeping from him as he swam closer to the Mary Lou. By the time he reached the ship, he couldn’t even feel the thick woven fibers as he pulled himself from the water.
Cursing silently, Tim inched out of the water as slowly as he’d lowered himself into it. Being quiet was even more important no
w that he was in enemy territory. Any sound he made might give away the presence of the world’s first naked assassin. He tried not to chuckle as he forced his arms and legs into motion.
The exertion restored some of the feeling in his hands and feet, but now they felt like they were on fire while being jabbed full of little needles. Could you get frostbite in the game? Shaking away the thought of having only nine toes, Tim continued to pull himself up the hemp net. His teeth were chattering, but he was finally clear of the water.
He clung to the side of the ship, the wind whipping off the ocean keeping him from getting warm despite the effort it was taking to climb the side of the ship. A few feet higher up where the chances of getting drenched by an especially large wave were out of the question, Tim re-equipped his clothes.
The soft fabric felt rough on his skin, but it warmed him. Clothes made all the difference when you were trying to stay warm. He’d read stories about homeless people freezing to death in the winter, and thought no one should ever have to die like that.
Like a fucking human popsicle.
Americans lived in the greatest country on Earth, but they could do better. As much as other countries might need the US, sometimes it felt like we needed to buckle down and get our own house in order first. Simple things like no hungry kids and people not turning into ice sculptures because they couldn’t get inside should be easy fixes, but right now, he’d settle for getting his teeth to stop chattering. He could work on the world’s problems later.
It was weird to think he’d be here long enough for that. By the time he left The Etheric Coast, he’d have lived almost as much of his life inside the game as outside it. Where was home, really? Maybe it was time to focus on what he could change here and now, and not dream about the future. That was the thing about dreams—you spent so much time falling in love with the idea of the thing, you never really worked to get there.
Rise of the Grandmaster Page 21