by N H Paxton
“You know well enough,” I said as I lit the gas burner on the stove and set the coffee percolator on the flame. I needed to make a plan, and I had one in the works. I didn’t want to have to follow through with it but I needed to gather a weapon—my aim was the knife block.
“It seems like yesterday we were going to university together. You were promising and intellectual. I was a mass of raw muscle.” He poked at the flab that had started to show over his gut. “Some things have changed, others have not.” He raised an eyebrow at the equipment I had strewn about the kitchen and dining room. Nearly all of it was of my own design, some of it from various jobs I had handled throughout the years. “You know, I was almost hired by Almaz-Antev as well. Well...” He laughed as he looked away.
“I guess I technically still work for them. Hired muscle through their connections.” He tilted his head to the side and a loud pop issued from the bones and muscles in his neck. I almost knocked the knife I had acquired from the knife block onto the floor, which would have given away my intentions. I didn’t want to have to use it, but it was a likely conclusion that I would have to. I turned around and carefully slid the knife into the back of my pants, blousing my shirt a bit to cover the handle.
“We don’t have to fight, Bruno. Take whatever you want—I have money saved, you can take that too.” The coffee was done, so I poured a pair of cups and spiked them both with vodka. Heavily. I was going to need all the courage I could muster for this next act.
“No, see, Viktor was clear. I bring you back broken, or I don’t come back at all. He is beyond wanting money now. You made him mad—he thinks you stiffed him on the bill.” Bruno took his cup with a small smile and took a large drink. “Ah, that is good. And the vodka was a good touch. You were always heavy-handed.” He set the cup down and looked at me with remorse. “I am sorry, old friend, but this is where friendship ends and work begins.” He stood, replaced his brass knuckles, and smacked his fists together. I reached behind my back and grabbed the knife. The blade felt clumsy in my hands. I hated bladed weapons.
He stopped for a moment, then a sly smile rolled over his features. “You were not going to go down easy; always the hard way, my friend.”
He took a heavy swing from the side, and I scrambled out of the way. His fist slammed into the countertop where I was standing just a second before. Cups rattled and bounced, and my freshly washed dishes shook in the drying rack. The blow was so strong that it knocked Ina’s favorite coffee mug off the spindle it hung on. It shattered on the floor. The sound of it breaking hurt, like years of memories shattering against cold, uncaring stone. I knew I couldn’t get hit by the force of Bruno’s swing; I simply wouldn’t survive.
“Damnit, Bruno, you’re better than this.” I was already shaking from fear and anxiety, I didn’t need to fight for my life. This was a problem. “I don’t want to hurt you—we can still leave this place as friends. I will give you everything I have.”
“You, hurt me? You’re a brain, Vlad, and I’m a muscle. There will be only one person with pain tonight.” He took another swing, and I backpedaled into the large grandfather clock against the wall. It rang as the chimes within bounced around. I wedged my hands into the narrow space between the wall and the clock and pushed with all I was worth. The massive clock creaked and groaned as it fell towards Bruno. He put his shoulder into it and shrugged it off. The man was a beast, for all his age. The cacophony of the metal inside the clock’s body was painful to hear as the wood splintered and smashed against the floorboards.
“I’m warning you, Bruno. Stop this and we can be friends again. I’ll forget it all.” I didn’t want to end up beaten and battered. I lunged forward and swiped at him with my knife. It left me terribly open, and he punished me for it. I received a quick jab to the ribs for my effort, knocking the air completely out of me. I doubled over on the floor in pain, the knife slipping out of my hands as I wrapped my arms around my gut. I gasped for air as Bruno stepped forward, rolling his hands together, cracking his knuckles.
“Only one punch, Vlad?” Bruno sighed heavily as he loomed over my breathless body. Wracking coughs had started to pull air back into my lungs. “You used to be so much more resilient. This is what working with tools and technology all your life gets you.” He went to stomp on my head, but I rolled out of the way just in time. His foot hit the ground heavily enough to rattle the dishware and the coffee cup he’d left on the table. I scampered up to my hands and knees, grabbed the knife, and thought I was clear of him until I felt the collar on my shirt stiffen.
“Hurk,” I spouted as I was pulled backward. He had the grip of a rabid bear. I struggled against the clothing restraining me, but it was no use. Before I knew it, he had lifted me into the air with a bear hug. My lungs felt like they were on fire as he crushed my torso between his massive arms. “Bruno...” I coughed and choked as I squirmed, my vision darkening. Right before my sight left me completely, I had a moment of clarity. The knife was still in my hand! I swung wildly with it, trying desperately to get a cut, a nick, anything that would cause him to release me.
After what felt like an eternity, the blade found purchase. It sunk deep into his right thigh, and I was rewarded with him dropping me. The bellow he let out was enough to nearly deafen me. Everything was going to hurt in the morning, for sure. I collapsed to the floor as my body was basically deadweight. I sucked in hard lungfuls of air, doing everything I could to make my body respond to simple commands. Look around, get up, move, get away from him. Nothing was working.
“You put a knife in my leg, you dirty shit!” Bruno continued to howl as he sunk to the floor.
I was hoping the blade would simply get him to release me so I could get away, but it seemed as though I had hit a nerve. Blood sprayed from his leg in a rhythm; I had hit something much more important. I had driven the knife into his femoral artery. He was going to bleed out without medical attention. I stretched out and reached for the towels that hung from the handle on the stove. I grabbed both of them and managed to crawl over to where Bruno was gasping. His skin tone was already changing to ashen grey mixed with blue.
He was losing blood fast.
I wrapped the towels around his upper thigh, above the wound, and tied them tight. Then I ripped a large piece of my shirt off, removed the knife from his leg, and stuffed the clothing into the wound. It was immediately soaked in blood, a bad sign. I hadn’t meant for the blade to bite so deep, I hadn’t meant for him to be bleeding out! My tourniquet wasn’t working as well as I had hoped, probably because my dexterity and strength were still reduced from nearly being crushed to death.
His eyes started to glaze over as he stared at me. “Vlad, Vlad, please...” His words were gentle and full of fear, and for just a moment I saw that child I had grown up with. My heart shattered.
“Bruno, I am so sorry.” I hadn’t meant for him to die; I had intended to talk him down, to find a common ground. Maybe even to part as friends. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I said to him, holding his hand, which I had gripped without thinking. His hand was so much larger than mine, but his grasp was gentle.
“I... I know I didn’t do right. By either of you.” His words were slipping now. They were coming slower, his gasps shallow. “I am sorry, friend.”
The last words from the one person I had known my entire life were an apology as he died. I sat there with him for some time before I was able to come to grips with what had happened. I had killed a man. I had killed my best friend.
Timeline - 3 days before Astraea, 00:21
I buried Bruno in the backyard in the dark of the night. I had cleaned up the floor of the dining room as best I could, but I was still covered in blood. I hadn’t thought to take the time to clean myself up. I didn’t care, as I was exhausted and needed rest. I looked at my watch, which was spattered with dried, flaking blood. I was almost out of time: I needed seventy-two hours inside V.G.O. to be able to fully transition, before the world as we knew it would end. I knelt at th
e shared grave site of my beloved wife and my best friend.
The shovel fell from my grasp, and I sobbed deeply. I could no longer hold it back, and I didn’t even try to stop it. There was literally nothing left for me here. I had killed the only person I still cared about. I should have let Bruno take me back to Viktor. I was broken. I was shattered like a glass that was carelessly tossed away. Everything I had in this life was gone, and the emotional trauma was almost too much. I would have rather been tortured by the Mafia. At least that pain would subside, either in my death or when it was over. This pain, though? I expected it to last forever.
Timeline - 3 days before Astraea, 05:19
The kiss of the morning sun warmed my skin against the cold teeth of the Russian morning. I startled awake, my mind running in a panic knowing I had almost no time left. It would be a near thing, for sure. I brushed myself off and rushed inside. My pain from the fight last night was screaming at me, everything was agony. My body was nearly in spasms from the effort.
The dew from the morning had made the blood on my hands and clothes fresh again. I left smears on the walls as I stumbled from room to room, heading to the basement. I placed my bloodied palm onto the biometric reader that unlocked the steel blast door I had installed. It beeped and slid open. I trudged in and fell to my knees before I reached the capsule. I dragged myself up the face of it, leaving a trail of blood on the pristine chrome. I punched in a series of numbers on the locking mechanism.
There was a whoosh of air as the capsule unsealed. I heard the blast door behind me slam shut and the three-step locking mechanism kick in. Everything was moving at a feverish pace as I pushed the door to the pod up so I could get into it. I grabbed the assist handrail and pulled with everything I had. My muscles complained, my lungs burned and ached, and my head felt like it was on fire. I finally worked my way into the pod and watched the pod door close slowly, pressurizing.
“Goodbye, Ina. I will see you in the next life.” It was all I could say before the pod sealed, and the processes within the capsule initiated.
The pitch black surrounded me like a blanket, consuming the last glimpse I had of the light of my workshop, until a “loading...” notice came on-screen. I was being logged into Viridian Gate Online.
An intense realization swept over me. I was starting a new life. It had nearly cost me everything. No, it had cost me everything. But I was still alive, and that was something worth fighting for.
My last memory of Earth was pain in my chest, not from the fight the night before, but from knowing I would never see my home, my wife, my friend, or my house ever again.
Leaving Well Enough Alone...
THE PAIN IN MY BODY disappeared as my senses were taken away to another place. I heard birds chirp, and there were no longer the city noises of Saint Petersburg I was so used to. Instead, before my very eyes, shifting from hazy to firm and sharp, was a floating image of myself. Well, not exactly myself. My avatar. I was no longer wearing the apron and jeans covered in blood, but was instead wearing a basic linen tunic, with a matching pair of incredibly itchy pants. Somehow or other, I could feel everything.
Was it due to the neural mapping or some other amazing advent in technology? I would figure that out later. I knew V.G.O. was an intense and all-encompassing VRMMO, but I didn’t expect it to feel like the real world. It was pretty clear that this was going to be a very real experience, if the wet seeping through the thin cloth shoes I was wearing was any indication. I didn’t have any experience playing video games back on Earth, but I imagined that this would be the paramount of them. Being directly inserted into a game world, where literally anything is possible. I felt fear and excitement in even waves.
I noticed a couple options floating about in my vision, but the one that caught my eye most was “Race.” I focused on it, and down popped a series of options. Almost like clockwork, the drop-down menu expanded and hovered, shifting as I turned my head, hanging about like a sticky note. Each race sounded really entertaining and exceptionally well thought out, like the dark-skinned Dokkalfar, or Murk Elves, that lived in the Storme Marshes. The Svartalfar were Dwarf-like hardy people with a penchant for development. I lingered on the Dwarves for a moment, considering the potential of it all; giving myself a leg up on the development of the world of Viridian Gate Online might not be a bad idea. After a moment, though, I decided I needed a change, and it needed to be big, so I continued to look.
There were the Accipiter, winged people of the deserts, with their dexterous ways and their feathery skin. The Risi were massive, muscle-bound brutes with green-tinged skin and severe underbites with protruding fangs. I lingered on Wode, the most human looking of the races and detailed as the most versatile. They were described as the most numerous of the races in Eldgard, the world in which V.G.O. took place. I considered being a Wode. It would allow me to become almost everything I was on Earth.
I closed my eyes, the world going black, if only for a moment, before deciding to do something different.
I had already spent forty-three years of my life as a human, and it wasn’t exactly everything I had ever wanted. My life was punctuated throughout with the human gods: communism, greed, and hatred. The Man took everything that I produced and returned a mere tenth. It dug its claws into my life and never let go. Then, when I needed it most, it turned its back on me and my wife and let her die. No, hell no. I wouldn’t do that again. There was an Imperial alternative to the Wode, which boasted the same stats, but didn’t appeal to me in any way.
One of the races mentioned something about having a relatively free lifestyle. I scrolled through the races again, and my eyes lingered on Hvitalfar, the Dawn Elves. They were of the Shining Plains. The race was appealing, having a natural affinity for magic of all kinds, with a bonus to their starting Spirit of 5%. There was a certain kinship I felt with the ideals of the Dawn Elves, although nobody in Russia or anywhere else, knew I loved plants and animals. I wanted to keep it that way. And if I was going to play a fantasy game, why not be a powerful sorcerer? After all, if I had the opportunity to directly change my life, that sounded like a great way to go.
I chose it as my race and adjusted a couple of features. I made myself roughly the same height, weight, and age as on Earth. I gave myself hair, which I wasn’t blessed with at the end of my Earth life. I made it a glorious sheet of fine silver, running to the middle of my back. It was incredible. Finally, I came to my name. This caused me great pause, considering my name in the real world had weight. But that was the past, that was the old Vlad. This would be a new start, a new beginning, where I would start with nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A few names kicked around in my head for a while, and I used the random name generator once or twice, getting shockingly difficult to pronounce names. That may have been my Russian heritage slipping in, but I couldn’t think of how I would get around living as “Artlerinart.” I would be a better version of myself here, in this world, than I was on Earth.
Ultimately, I decided to just be Vlad, unapologetic and unwavering. Ina had told me once, years ago, that I needed to be “More of a warrior for Justice.” Well, here was my chance. I wouldn’t stand for injustice; I would refuse to stand aside as people were taken advantage of. That was the old Vlad. I had lain down long enough, letting people be stepped on in the name of “progress,” or “the government.” I finalized my name, and all of the drop-down menus disappeared.
I stood in the darkness for a moment, turning my head, looking for any clue as to what would happen. I was just about to say something about a log-in bug when everything exploded around me. I was suddenly engulfed in the music of the renaissance, blazing through the air. The lute and lyre were intensely played, the music feverish. The score was overwhelming—it set the stage for something huge. I stood expectantly as the words began, thunderous to my ears.
“The year is 1095 A.I.C.—Anno Imperium Conditae,” the voice began, fervent, echoing over the music. “Dark power and the stirrings of war ride upon th
e winds of Eldgard, the provincial outpost of the Great Viridian Empire.” I was standing at the precipice of a huge mountain range, and below me was an enormous forest. There were fires burning everywhere, and the sounds of war rang through the air. I watched what could only be described as ballista bolts, enormous and burning, explode against what I assumed were magic shields, half-orbs of glowing light covering eternally extending lines of soldiers. Truly this world was fantastical.
“Imperial legions, allied with the forces of light, march from the east, bringing the natives of Eldgard to their knees through flame, magic, and steel.” I was whipped into the air against my will, suddenly watching a small village change shape as the announcer continued. “Bringing progress. Building roads. Cities. A kingdom.”
The village went through numerous iterations before finally becoming a massive keep surrounded by a sprawling city with uncountable droves of people scurrying about their lives within its walls. It was everything I had expected of an ancient fortress. I was carried farther yet into the air, until I had a bird’s-eye view of the continent of Eldgard.
“Civilizing the dark-natured Wodes, the swamp-dwelling Dokkalfar, and the Accipiter of the far-western deserts, enlightening them in the ways of the ever-victorious empire.” There were hundreds of tactical lines drawn as they spread forth from the initial army, the locations outlined on the map changing color from a neutral gray to the deep azure of what I assumed to be the Viridian Empire. The sounds of battle, clanging metal, marching feet, and rippling banners carried to my ears as the lines moved.