Endless Online: Oblivion's Blade

by M. H. Johnson

  Hank frowned. "Spot for me, Val. What am I looking for?"

  Solemnly, Val pointed to the incriminating lines. Hank's brows furrowed. "Is this saying what I think it's saying?"

  Val nodded. "At first glance, your eyes glaze. Due compensation for extended testing provisions, mandatory overtime compensation promised, not to exceed a certain number of days."

  Pete smirked. "Until you realize that what it is basically saying is that, at their discretion, this beta testing form becomes an employment contract, all legal loopholes fulfilled. See where they got our social security number, supposedly to prove we're who we say we are and seizure free? Equally valid for assuring citizenship and employability."

  Val nodded. "Locking us in a contract with a million dollar breach penalty that we thought was a nondisclosure penalty but is, in fact, a termination penalty for a minimum wage job with hours and at a location they are in full control of, for a five-year period, should they choose to enforce it."

  Hank's gaze grew icy cold as he crumpled up the paperwork. "Goddamned bastards."

  Val frowned. "Subtle, buddy. Look at the suit gazing our way. We're the only table not playing ball. He doesn't look happy. And I'd save that, if I were you, in case we need it as evidence later, or at least to raise a hue and cry about this bullshit." He shook his head and cursed. "Fuck it all. Two minutes ago I thought, I hoped, well it was all just too damned good to be true, wasn't it? And now I need to see what's going on more than ever."

  Peter frowned. "Let's just get out of here."

  Val nodded. "That's the plan." He felt a curious twisting in his gut as the rest of the all too enthusiastic testers finished handing over their paperwork before darting inside the main room as fast as their feet would take them.

  Now both suited men were staring at the three of them, one of them quietly speaking in an earpiece, his gaze all too similar to the stares of men Val had faced in arenas far darker than this one. He felt a furious surge of adrenaline, never hating being half crippled as much as he did at that moment. "Hank, are you packing?"

  Eyes widened in alarm, a curt shake of his head. "Goddamn. It's like that already, is it?" He smirked. "I can box almost as good as ever, and my injured foot is basically a metal club. If I lead with it, knees are cracking. I just can't run for shit."

  Val nodded. "My phone's dead in here. Let's keep it casual. Cover story? Pete's sister has seizures, I'm an idiot who thought this was flatscreen, brain trauma during action means I'm VR-helm restricted, you're going to take us home and reapply next month."

  Hank nodded, taking the lead and pivoting Val's chair around, as if Val were completely invalid. "Sounds good. Pete, you're frustrated, Val's depressed, I'm playing big brother caretaker. Put on your party faces, guys. Stooge one is heading our way."

  "Gentlemen, gentlemen, is anything wrong? Solena's getting the Endless guided tour all ready to go on the big screen in back before everyone straps in for takeoff." The suited gentleman whose face was hard like an athlete's, not pudgy or pasty like most middle management, flashed a smile Val knew was meant to be friendly. "And please, don't worry about limited space. I just made a call and good news. We do in fact have space enough to accommodate everyone. Now if you'll just hand me your paperwork, you can prepare for the experience of a lifetime." He held out his hand expectantly.

  "I'll be fine!" Peter hissed, as if on cue. "My sister only seized when she had a fever, and my mom's been stable since she started taking the gabapentin."

  Hank gave a sad shake of his head. "Peter here confessed to multiple family members having seizures. Endless sounds like a fucking fantastic game, and you guys getting sued for a minor frying his brains on your VR sets because he seizes with all the flashing lights would mean Endless gets killed with bad publicity." Hank shook his head at the thought. "This game sounds too good for me to risk that happening, even if I can't play as a beta tester. Don't worry about the transportation, this one's on me. I'll flag us a taxi and take this kid home to his parents."

  Val nodded, playing along. "And I feel like an idiot. I thought, or maybe I should say hoped, that this game would be flatscreen as well. But all your paperwork says VR helm, and the doctor said that's a no-no with the metal now in my head. Hank's one of the good ones, offering to drive me home because as a fucking cripple I can't do shit for myself. I can't even play a game where I can win!"

  The suit blinked, and Val hoped he hadn't overplayed it. The man then frowned but slowly nodded, listening to his headpiece. "I understand, gentlemen. Would you like us to flag a taxi from the garage? We can call you one ourselves, and no worries, the cost is on us."

  Frowning, Hank nodded.

  "Very good. Then allow me to escort you there." He flashed another smile. "It's the least we can do." He looked pointedly at Val, obviously handicapped, and Peter, obviously a minor. If Hank was just a casual acquaintance doing a good deed, and they were leaving for purely incidental medical reasons, there was no good reason for them to refuse the free ride. Hank sensed it too.

  "Sounds good, thanks," Hank said, as they made their way down an office corridor to what they were assured was the back exit to the building, connecting right to the parking lot.

  "This should save you a good five minutes wait time, sir, and keep you out of the rain."

  Val nodded, exchanged an intent glance with Hank.

  "Alright, here you are, sir. The parking garage is just ahead."

  Val nodded, ears roaring with the sound of his racing heart, flexing his legs, readying himself.

  Peter nodded at the suit's words and opened the door.

  "Pete!" Val hissed.

  Pete backed up in alarm, but it was already too late.

  As the door began to open, Val hesitated no longer. Lack of proof no longer mattered as survival instincts savage and primal took over.

  He knew what it meant to herd a frightened doe into a corner before striking. He had set up enough ambushes to know how this game was played. If he was wrong, he would deal with that in court. But one thing was for sure. Suit was giving off bad vibes like a hot rod of uranium, and Val would be damned before he'd let himself be taken down this easy.

  Hank instantly got it, slamming into the door and shoving Pete away even as Val accepted the fiery screams of his shaky legs for that desperate, precious moment of surprise as the suit's eyes widened before Val stunned him with a palm strike full force into the man's chin, cracking teeth and arching his head back.

  Val did not hesitate, his alternate hand spearing forth in an adder strike, slamming full force into the man's trachea.

  The man's eyes widened as he collapsed, curling up into a fetal position, gurgling and wheezing horribly.

  Val pivoted around, forgetting for a moment that he was a cripple, stumbling to the floor as Peter gazed down in horror at what he had done.

  Shots rang out from the room beyond, Val catching sight of a mad scuffle, Hank somehow in that room, not a garage at all, his bright shirt now sprinkled with blood.

  Peter stared in shock.

  "Run!" Val screamed. "Get out of here as fast as you can! Don't look back! Go to the police! Go now, now, now!"

  The boy took off like a comet as Val desperately searched the pockets of the man still struggling for breath, feeling a surge of triumph as his hands felt the familiar grip of a glock, yanking it free of its shoulder holster, spinning toward the door.

  "Hank!" Val shouted into the now deathly silence. "Damn it," he hissed, eyes darting all about the now empty corridor. No sign of anyone, not even a curious or frightened beta tester, for all that Val's ears rang with the sound of the shots fired just a room away.

  "Shit." Val immediately shuffle crawled out of the center of the corridor, knowing how vulnerable he was, pure adrenaline dampening the agony in his legs, tuning out the dying wheeze of the man writhing only feet away, ears attuned to whatever was happening on the other side of the door.

  Nothing. Dead silence.

  A waiting game. An arm
ed suit could be waiting with a bead on the doorway, just ready to put a slug in Val in the split second he oriented, uncertain where his target was, or if there even was a target, then a single flash and he was done.

  The math was simple. If Hank was alive and present, Val should hear something, whether noise, groan, or confirmation, so he knew it wasn't a trap. But if Hank had been distracted in those mad moments and was there, in the same boat, waiting for confirmation... he'd give it one more go. "Hank, I'm good. If you're there, say so, we got to go!"

  Val focused his breath, heart still hammering, forcing a chill stillness that he could embrace for some reason even in the maddest of situations, thought suddenly lucid and clear, knowing that if armed men he didn't recognize as Hank came through, they were as good as dead.

  That left a few options. One, Hank was dead. Val could do nothing about that. Two, Hank had escaped, and was clear of the area, in which case Val would serve him best making his own way out. Possibility three, Hank was in desperate need of aid, but the dead silence meant he was severely wounded or unconscious, and Val was in no position to treat a critical injury. That left the fourth and most likely possibility. Armed men were waiting for him to stick his head through the door for a quick peek, and would take it off with a high caliber slug.

  Of course, it was also possible that Hank was being held as a hostage at gunpoint. Then the worst thing Val could do was show himself. They could pop him right there, and then they'd have no reason to spare Hank, and every reason to kill him.

  But if Val were to escape, they have every reason to keep Hank alive, lest Val report Hank's state and evidence be found ASAP before they could clean up brain splatter everywhere, harder than most realized without a ton of bleach or the like, and if they spared Hank, then they could do their best to spin Val as the murdering psychopath, they acting in self-defense, Hank and Peter just tragically caught in the middle of it.

  So be it. If him being pegged as the sacrificial lamb kept the other two alive, he'd bear that burden. Now it was time to get the hell out as fast and safely as he could.

  Decisions, decisions. Ultimately it was the pain that drove him. That and leaving no evidence. He forced himself on twitching legs back into his wheelchair, but not before he pulled out the wallet of the fallen man. Demetri Hajec of the Czech Republic, present on a tourist visa. Val frowned but immediately began moving, one hand to the wheel of his chair, the other with pistol ready, knowing he had no time to waste as he made his way down the farmost corridor, hoping to run across a fire exit at the far end of the building, freezing up as he heard hushed voices coming from the intersection ahead, his frantic eyes darting to a doorway just ahead. Unlocked. A quiet push, and he rolled in just as the voices strengthened, Val softly closing the door, swallowing his stomach as he oh so slowly released the lock as the harsh, guttural voices passed, speaking what Val guessed was Czechian, though he couldn't be sure.

  Val looked around, catching sight of half a dozen computers and one terrified-looking man frantically lurching back, hands raised as Val aimed the gun at him.

  "Don't make a sound."

  The portly balding man shook his head frantically.

  "Do you know English?"

  "Of course," he said, though his accent was far thicker than Solena's had been.

  "Good. Then you can tell me what the hell is going on here!"

  The man was breathing rapidly, near hyperventilating. "This is ESI. We make games, yes? There is nothing valuable here save the computers. Do you want one? Take whichever one you want, just please don't shoot me!"

  Val took a deep breath. "I don't care about the game. I care about why your friends tried to ambush us when we attempted to leave."

  The man blinked. "Shoot? Why would anyone shoot you? You must be mistaken. We are in the market for... beta testers, yes? Were you part of the group? You were one of the wounded veterans we wanted to test, yes?"

  Val's brows furrowed. "What's this about testing? And how do you know a thing about me?"

  The man flashed a pained grimace. "A, how do you say, slip of the tongue? I am nervous, quite nervous right now. You understand, yes? I fear for my life?"

  Val nodded even as he grabbed a chair and awkwardly positioned it to block the door from being immediately slammed open. There was no deadbolt. The best he could do was buy himself an extra second or two to pivot and aim so no threat could sneak up on him.

  "Take a deep breath," Val said. "And tell me about this testing."

  The man blinked nervously. "Yes. Beta testing. We are looking to harvest the best um... candidates for our game."

  Val forced a cold smile. "There's more to it than that, isn't there? A lot more."

  The man swallowed. "I don't know what you are talking about."

  Val nodded, tossing the man one of his stick drives. The man yelled and flinched as if thinking it a grenade, relieved to find it wasn't, then paling as he saw what it was.

  "Stick it in," Val demanded. "You know exactly where."

  The man licked dry lips. "Please, you don't want to do this..."

  "You have five seconds to put the flash drive in the port, or I will shoot you in the spleen, and I will do it myself while you scream and kick on the ground, but I'd rather not get blood on my wheels." Val flashed a cold smile. "Your blood. All over these floors. Is that what you want?"

  The man desperately shook his head, trembling hands carefully sticking in the drive, stealing a glance at Val as prompts suddenly popped up. "Full access better be granted." The man nodded frantically and did just that.

  "Good. Now tell me about these contracts."

  The man's pallor turned ghastly. "I... I'm sorry, contracts?"

  Val glared at the trembling man. "What we thought were beta player contracts are actually work contracts. Five years of what amounts to indentured servitude for little more than federal minimum wage, full nondisclosure, implying we can't even contact our families without your say so, and a million dollar breach of contract penalty if we dare protest in the least. That is what you bastards tried to get us to sign with your hyped up bullshit game! Don't think I don't know! Now you are going to tell me everything that's going on, or so help me I'll pull this trigger, and you'd best not think I give a shit about consequences! There are thirty Americans here that you bastards are trying to force into indentured servitude, and you'll only be the second bastard I killed today."

  And before the man could do more than blink, Val had rolled up to him, gun to temple. "Tell me, were they even going to stay here? Or were you assholes going to drug them and freight them overseas with this bullshit contract their final goodbye to friends and family? I know we're just half a mile from the port!"

  The look in the balding man's eyes turned Val's blood to ice.

  "By the gods. That's just what you were going to do! And once they were overseas, with this paperwork filed, no one could do a damn thing without a royal uproar. You fucking bastards."

  It was everything he could do not to pull the trigger.

  "Please, you don't understand! Jordia is real."

  Val frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Jordia. The planet? It is real! Your friends? Associates? Will be embracing Endless with every fiber of their being. This is true, I promise you!"

  Val glared. "Then why are you trapping these beta testers into five-year contracts with million dollar breach fees and carting them off overseas, if this is just an innocent game?"

  The man blinked rapidly. "It's... it's very complicated."

  Val grimaced. "Let's keep it simple. Where are they going?"

  A deep, shuddering breath as Val slowly squeezed the trigger and grinned. "Uzbekistan," he finally gasped. "They will be working for us in Uzbekistan."

  Val carefully pivoted to see the monitor even as his de facto hostage grimaced desperately.

  Fuck! There was no digital software or game related material whatsoever on display. Rather it looked to be a snapshot of multiple companies
hiring overseas, digital copies that looked suspiciously like their contracts were being scanned in and filed by the man before him.

  Val hissed and lurched back, realizing he was being a fool. "Hands up where I can see them."

  He had been too close, too distracted. If the foe he faced had been any kind of fighter, Val could have been stunned, disarmed, or shot.

  Only naked hands and a frightened grimace met his gaze, however.

  "Please, please don't shoot me."

  Quick as thought, Val pulled out his phone. "On the ground, hands in back." He began opening files and taking snapshots of all he saw, including the contracts signed by the beta testers not long ago, before grabbing those contracts himself.

  Val frowned, eyes scanning for cords, grinning in fierce satisfaction to see that Yusef's phone was actually ported in.

  A sudden sharp rap on the door. "Yusef. Yusef, is everything all right?"

  "Say you're fine." Val hissed, surprised the man outside had spoken in English.

  "Da," Yusef replied, swallowing. "Very busy, I just need to focus."

  Someone rattled the handle, the chair holding perfectly, better than Val had thought it would. "Yusef? Open up, we have security issue!"

  Yusef whimpered, even as Val calmed trembling fingers, connecting to one of his dummy accounts and plugging in his phone, sending an e-mail to the colonel's account.

  "Tell him you're jacking off!" Val snapped, his terrified captive saying just that, though it sounded like he was climaxing or terrified, as Val wrote his message. Entrapment, five-year minimum wage work contract with million dollar termination fee disguised as liability release for imaginary? game, before beta testers were sent overseas. Forced labor? Indentured servitude? Kidnapping? Come ASAP, 30 citizens imperiled, 1/2 mile from peer. Uzbekistan might be destination or false flag. (Tried to contain us when 3 of us attempted to leave, shots fired, one aggressor downed. One former Marine might be shot/killed/escaped. One 17 y/o boy terrified, on the run.) Pics of contracts and dummy work requests and permits included.

  After that, Val flipped a key switch on his phone, turning it into a homing device, sending a message that shots were in play. If his father got hurt or worse because Val panicked and didn't inform him of the danger so he could get appropriate backup, Val would never forgive himself. Of course, there was a very good chance his dad wouldn't pick up the signal at all.