Lightningbreaker

by L. T. Thornhill

  The inside of the small room that Matteo found himself in was brightly lit. Three sides of the room featured white ceramic tiles, while the fourth was simply a translucent wall of blue energy. Kenji sat on the floor with his back leaning against the wall opposite the energy wall, Shaury sat on a cot opposite Matteo, and a bald man with skin so fair it was bordering on white stood leaning against the wall beside the blue energy. His arms were crossed across his chest and he fixed Matteo with a bemused expression. One of the man's eyes was blue while the other was the color of hazel, making it both slightly disorienting and hypnotic when looking at them directly for more than a few seconds. There was something gentle about the man’s face, even though his head almost touched the ceiling and his big frame looked like it could carry the remaining three members of the cell on his shoulders quite easily.

  “How long was I out?” Matteo asked the room, hoping that someone would answer the question.

  “A few hours,” responded Shaury, looking him square in the eye.

  A quick nod at her and Matteo looked at Kenji, who did not look like he was being held a prisoner. Instead, the young boy was tapping his feet to some rhythm.

  “Something on my face, or have you never seen an Asian before?” asked Kenji.

  “Nothing on your face. I have Asian friends. Still wondering how Olympus knew your name,” responded Matteo without losing a beat.

  Kenji slapped his head lightly, as though he just remembered something. “Well, if I had known that simply recognizing someone was a crime, then I would have worn a mask. Why do you ask?”

  Ignoring the sarcasm, Matteo continued. “He recognized you as though he knew you before. Frequent visitor?”

  In response, Kenji cupped his hands and brought them next to his ear. He shook them, as though he was holding something and was listening to the sounds of this unknown object. Bringing his hands in front of his face, he opened them and looked shocked. “Wow. I can’t believe it. Today’s fortune says that speaking the obvious is not smart. Who would have known, huh?”

  The albino man chuckled and even Shaury smiled.

  Kenji repeated the hand-shaking movement again. “Today’s fortune also says that I am in a room with a bunch of idiots. What are the odds?”

  A booming laughter bounced around the walls of the cell. The albino man seemed to enjoy the moment. The smile disappeared off Shaury’s face. “Just another thirteen-year-old thinking he has a clever wit.”

  “Just another twenty-something who thinks wisdom comes with age,” retorted Kenji.

  Shaury didn’t respond. She pushed herself back against the wall and closed her eyes.

  Realizing that two people in the room were either unwilling to talk or might just shoot scathing remarks, Matteo turned to the albino man, who seemed as though he was on a holiday and appreciating the company of fellow travelers.

  “Are you an NPC, too?” asked Matteo.

  The man shook his head. “No,” he said in a deep and resonant voice. “I am not.”

  “I see. They really don’t like Agris do they?”

  Another shake of the head. “I am not an Agri,” he said. “I am a Shocker.”

  Shaury opened her eyes. Kenji sat bolt upright, as though he had just heard the most devastating news of his life. For his part, Matteo simply pursed his lips.

  “Why did they throw you in with us?”

  The man pushed himself from the wall. He looked outside the energy wall like he was looking for some answers. Matteo noticed that opposite their cell was another identical room, except that this one was empty.

  “Something is wrong with this world,” said the man, hands diving into his pant pockets. “It’s like someone took the video game enjoyed by millions of people and flipped it on its head.”

  “You still haven’t answered the question,” said Shaury.

  “I am getting there, young miss,” said the man, his voice holding so much patience that Matteo wondered what it would take to unnerve him.

  The man placed his hands on the blue wall, causing ripples of energy to expand in concentric rings where he made contact. “When I came here, class Zeus was simply one of two factions who were trying to figure out this world. Where the other factions are, nobody knows.”

  Turning around, the man pressed his back against the energy wall. “After a while, class Zeus took over, banishing class Xipe Totec out beyond the forest.”

  “So, they’re not,” started Matteo, thinking for a bit before settling on the obvious term, “dead?”

  “Oh, many died,” said the albino man.

  “It was a massacre,” confirmed Shaury, her face hardening. “And then there are the NPCs.”

  The man nodded. “Some people were not visited by any God. Class Zeus rounded them up and put them to work.”

  “How did they decide what work someone did?” asked Matteo.

  “Zeus,” responded Shaury. “That devil somehow understood what role each of us were to play.”

  “Seems like he just decided on something without actually getting to know people.”

  “He did,” said Shaury. “And he gave people tasks that they were not supposed to do simply because some of the positions had an abundance of labor.”

  “You mean, there were too many people for one role?” asked Matteo, and then another thought hit his mind. “Which means that there are a lot more NPCs than I have originally seen.”

  Shaury nodded. “I was supposed to be a Weaponsmith.”

  Matteo contemplated for a while. Realizing that beating his head against a mental wall was not going to produce any beneficial results, he turned his attention to the albino man.

  “You were talking about your imprisonment,” said Matteo.

  A look of sadness passed the man’s features. It made Matteo regret encouraging the man to speak. “It started with small complaints. I tried to talk to the Prince about the way certain NPCs were treated. But I think the power got to his head. Eventually, he noticed that I was getting quite bold with my accusations. The next thing you know, I am here.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A week.”

  Taking a deep sigh, Matteo looked at the people in the room. He wondered if they all shared the same fate. A thought immediately pinged its way into his brain. “Does that mean that all of us are going to fight our way through the Battle Royale?”

  Their silence gave him the answer. Yet the albino man chose to verbalize everyone’s thoughts. “Yes,” he said. “We are going to face each other.”

  The size of the cell reminded Matteo of his apartment. He had always disliked the rather congested abode. After a while, he even considered it a large closet that should have been part of someone’s bedroom. His apartment had always reminded Matteo the direction his life was taking: aimless, catastrophic, and entirely reliant on an online game to give it any sort of goal. He felt powerful online and almost disillusioned with his life offline.

  Now, Matteo realized that he missed his apartment. He yearned for the simplicity of his life, one that had barely any ambitions and a constant stream of disappointments. At least there he was close to a misery he could identify and had, frankly, grown accustomed to.

  “We should stick together,” said the albino man.

  Even though Matteo had not spotted the reactions of the other two people in the cell, he knew that they, like him, were focused on the man. It wasn’t because of the suggestion itself, but the way that it was presented. The man did not sound desperate. Neither was he commanding. He’d simply provided a suggestion.

  “Listen,” said Matteo, and looked at the man.

  “Kabaka.”

  “Listen, Kabaka. We might stick together now, but know that we shall be opponents in the future.”

  “I am not sticking close to anyone,” said Kenji. “You guys can get killed together. Which is good for me.”

  “Not sure about the other two,” said Shaury, “but I can, at least, make your wish come true. Even though I am
not exactly doing it for you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Matteo, already guessing what she meant. He sincerely hoped he was wrong.

  Shaury lifted her chin in an act of defiance, as though daring Matteo to change her mind. “I’d rather die than become someone’s slave.”

  The sadness on Kabaka’s face could have easily made anyone contemplate the sins they had committed in their life. Matteo, on the other hand, did not have the words to say anything. Perhaps everything that had happened in the past few hours had drained him emotionally. If that was indeed the case, then he wondered if he would feel the shock of roiling emotions later, when he was more susceptible to experiencing them.

  “I’ll take what I can get,” said Kenji.

  “What?” The word escaped Matteo’s mouth as he whirled around to face the boy.

  Giving a shrug, Kenji took a deep breath before responding. “I am two months shy of being thirteen. You guys look like you are in your early twenties or something. What do you want me to do? Die young so you guys can get some extra time?” He placed his elbows on his knees and linked his arms. “Besides, it’s not like you are going to leave this place, right? You are all likely to become slaves.”

  If there was a response to that point, Matteo could not think of one. He simply chose to look away, feeling powerless to even convince a young boy that using someone’s death to his benefit was not the right way to survive.

  “Then we stick together,” Kabaka repeated again, this time after walking to the middle of the room.

  Despite the big man’s intentions, no one seemed to respond. Matteo felt simply exhausted. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to live. He just felt as though the alternative might not be so bad, after all. Who knew when they would return to their normal lives on Earth, or if they ever would? And then what next? What awaited Matteo was a small, sparsely furnished apartment that helped no hope nor opportunities.

  The sound of footsteps outside caused everyone to face the energy wall. Three Shockers appeared, two of them holding Crossbolts and one with a Vanquisher in his hands. All three wore the black gauntlet and sabatons armor pieces. The one wielding the Vanquisher also sported a black helmet with an opening shaped roughly like an uppercase “T” in its center, revealing the man’s eyes, nose and a part of his mouth.

  “Time to die, fellas,” Helmet said, and gave a wink to Shaury. “And lady.”

  The Crossbolts were raised, pointed into the room. Helmet lifted his hands as though he was about to stop something. “Before I open this door, let me tell you that any action on your part other than what I ask you to do is going to be, well, bad. And, trust me, I am half-hoping things do go bad. And don’t think I’m going to kill you. I’m just going to paralyze your sorry asses and toss them into the wild.”

  Having finished his monologue, Helmet closed his hand into a fist and the energy field disappeared.

  “Step outside one by one,” said Helmet, “starting with you, big man.”

  Kabaka stepped out into the corridor, his hands held out in front of him.

  Helmet put the energy handcuffs on the big man’s hands, looking up at him. There seemed to be no love lost between the two.

  Helmet pointed down the corridor. “Head that way, traitor.”

  The harmonious expression on the big man’s face did not disappear. Matteo wondered if Kabaka was the albino reincarnation of the Buddha. One by one, all four prisoners were handcuffed and let down the corridor. When the procession passed through the halls of Asgard, they noticed that it was eerily quiet. Matteo tried to see if there was someone hidden in the shadows of the hall, but he could not find anyone.

  When the group stepped outside the great hall, Matteo realized why no one was inside.

  It seemed as though every Shocker was congregated outside on the steps of Asgard. The large congregation had split themselves down in the middle, creating a narrow path that led not to the street, but to the side of the great hall.

  Helmet did not stop for anything. He entered the path and continued to follow its course, throwing a nod or offering a handshake every now and then. When the prisoners began to walk the path, Matteo half-expected the crowd to become rough, perhaps even physical. It seemed as though the prince had given them an order, for apart from insults, screams, threats, lewd remarks, and violent descriptions of what one would do to the prisoners if they so had the chance, no one so much as touched them. A man came close to Matteo, screaming into his ear and talking about having his kidneys for breakfast. Kenji was the only one who seemed to throw an insult back every so often. One man screamed, “I hope you hit puberty at least, pipsqueak, because you are not getting out of this alive,” to which Kenji responded with, “Seeing your face is going to put off my puberty for the next three decades.”

  The only one in the group who didn’t lose his calm was Kabaka. When Matteo watched him walk, he saw an embodiment of a stoic personality. Nothing about the big man oozed hate or anger. For some reason, he was capable of walking through the calls of “traitor,” “freak,” or one of the worst ones that Matteo heard, “white man,” with calm and poise.

  When they broke through the crowd, Helmet led them down a side street that snaked its way through the small town. Thankfully, the sun was making its way toward the horizon, providing lots of cool shade. When he thought about it, Matteo realized that the darkness that would soon follow wouldn’t be their companion once they were in the forest.

  Helmet guided the group through the ring of tents and finally into an open field. A dozen Shockers stood there with their Crossbolts and Vanquishers. Among them, Matteo spotted Olympus standing with his Lightningbreaker, a majestic sight since the prince was also adorned in golden gauntlets, boots, and a chestpiece. Similar armor pieces were also worn by Barak and IronMayden.

  Off to one side, Lysander was lounging on the green grass, as though he was about to initiate the town’s largest picnic party. He gave a quick wave with his fingers to Shaury.

  Helmet motioned for the group to stop a dozen paces from Olympus.

  “Let the Battle Royale begin,” said Olympus.

  Matteo heard footsteps behind him, as though an entire army of people was making its way toward them. He was expecting the legion of Shockers to be present, but when he turned around, he spotted more black helmets leading groups of prisoners. Shaury’s face seemed to accumulate more fury. Kabaka’s sadness was palpable and Matteo found himself unable to bear the big man’s expression. Kenji was the only one who looked like he did not care one way or the other.

  “Now this is interesting,” said Kenji, as though he was watching a parade of participants in a costume contest, instead of prisoners being led to their own doom.

  There were seven groups, each holding four quite diverse people of different heights, ancestral backgrounds and, perhaps, even their degree of eagerness.

  In one group, Matteo spotted a young man with shoulder-length hair who looked calm and poised, with a strange look in his eyes that was quite unnerving. The other three members of his group seemed to walk at least a few feet behind him, as though they feared his actions.

  Another group consisted only of women who marched side-by-side, fear written on their faces, but their gait held a sense of purpose. It seemed to Matteo that whatever may come, the group would face it together.

  The groups were all positioned in a line, facing the forest. For a while, the only movement belonged to the prisoners, each fidgeting and darting glances around. Some were sneaking looks at other groups while others had their eyes closed. One prisoner was murmuring something under his breath, perhaps a prayer. The only trait the prisoners shared was the lack of communication with each other. It seemed no one wanted to talk. Whether that was fear or the fact that there was nothing to say in the face of impending death, Matteo could not guess.

  “There are so many of them,” remarked Shaury, her eyes traveling over the prisoners.

  “I spotted eight empty cells in total where we were held,” Ka
baka replied.

  “Makes you wonder why we were held separately,” said Matteo.

  A hush fell over everyone as Olympus took a few steps forward, facing the prisoners.

  “Begin the roll call,” he said.

  A slight breeze seemed to have picked up, as though nature itself was ready to inaugurate a violent game that no one was eager to participate in.

  The helmeted guard who had guided Matteo’s group stood in front of them. He took a quick moment to look at each member in the eye. “Kabaka Adebayo, twenty-one years old,” he said, then shifted his attention to each person as he called their names, “Shaury Basu, twenty-four years old. Kenji Bushida, twelve.”

  Three faces turned toward the youngest member of the group. “Hm,” said Kenji. “I really thought I was older.”

  “Please,” said Kabaka, speaking up. “Let the child go. There is no need for this. Think of his actions as nothing more than childish brashness.”

  “Hey, I’m still here, you know,” quipped Kenji.

  Helmet ignored the big man’s request, which sounded more like a plea. Instead, he faced the remaining member of the group.

  “Matteo Ayla, twenty-two.” The helmeted guard stood still for a moment. It seemed as though he wanted to say something else.

  “Go on,” ordered Olympus.

  “The man who is infamously known as Godlike.”

  A collective gasp escaped from all around Matteo. Even Lysander was on his feet, an excited look on his face that showed he was pleased to discover this new piece of information. Matteo was looking at Olympus with a newfound sense of awareness. It was like a mouse discovering that the moving object in the sky was, in fact, an eagle that had its claws bared as it swooped in for the kill.

  Matteo could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, yet the only ones that held any weight were the three pairs of his teammates. He did not dare look at them, afraid of what he might find there. For a moment, it had felt good that he was not the only one stuck in a difficult position. Others shared fates similar or, in some cases, worse than his. But in an instant, that illusion had disappeared. It was like popping the proverbial balloon of hope. Matteo had never felt so alone in his life, even though he lived alone back home on Earth.