Spy: Reborn
Page 24
He started to feel better and got to his feet. His first priority was to get out of the dangerous zones without dying. Moving down the alley, he emerged onto another backstreet and tried to get his bearings. Gorgevade’s jumbled topography was utterly confusing; he had no idea of where he was or how to get to the city gate and out of the place.
For a while, he walked aimlessly, keeping an eye out for Skragogs and other dangers. He took a right turn that fed into a courtyard hemmed in by crumbling slums and ramshackle dwellings stacked sloppily on top of each other like a toddler’s building blocks. A group of ragged children were playing around in the dirt of the courtyard and Argo kept his distance.
He was looking around for any sign that he was going in the right direction when he suddenly spotted the top spires of the clock tower in the market square, peeping up above the pointed gables of one of the slums. The tower was westward of his position and he saw a covered walkway leading off from the courtyard in that direction. He plunged down it into yet another tangle of side streets and garbage-filled alleys, but now he could hear the voices of the hawkers and the general hum of the people milling about the square.
He followed the noise as best he could, taking several wrong turns and going on a number of detours deeper into the jumble of houses. He eventually managed to find the side street GG had taken him down when they had first met. With a sense of relief, he moved toward the mouth of the street and then stopped dead before diving back down as fast as he could.
Out in the market square were dozens of Skragogs, each of them bearing the emblem of the Web Blade Gang on their foreheads. They were stalking through the crowds, obviously searching for him.
Argo risked another peek into the square and saw several of the thugs gathered together by the clock tower, talking intensely. He got the instinctive impression that one of them was the Skragog leader who had attacked him and GG in the warehouse.
Getting anxious again, Argo retreated back down the side street and slipped into the shadows of an open woodshed to try and figure out what he was going to do next. He was completely at a loss and thought about going back into the square and handing over the violin to the Skragogs. Just to be done with it so he could log out and take his lumps… but it left a really bad taste in his mouth. Henrietta Sorzatia’s quest was his, and whatever was so important about the instrument would mean a very handsome reward—possibly legendary-grade gear, a rare skill, or an altogether new class tree.
He couldn’t throw all that away at the first hurdle, not when he still had a chance.
He couldn’t go into the market square without being seen and he couldn’t outrun or fight the Skragogs. They would be on him in moments and he’d go the same way as GG—probably worse, considering he was just a level 2 scrub traipsing about in an end-game area. He considered going back into the warren of streets and finding another way out of the city, but that option did not appeal to him either. The Web Blade Gang knew the city much better than him, and they would no doubt get word about an under-leveled noob poking about where he doesn’t belong. They probably had thugs scouring the streets for him as well as in the square. That, and he could very well run afoul of some other menace lurking in the seedier parts of town. All it took was one bad glare from a player or NPC in these parts, and he’d be as good as toast. He wouldn’t attract much attention with the legendary violin safely in his ghost pack, but with him holding it out in the open like this?
It suddenly hit him that there was an obvious solution to his problem. Quickly, he assessed his HUD and called up the options of his Spy class. To his relief, he found that he could still use his Morphing Ability and he set to work creating a disguise for himself.
He peeked around the corner of an alley and spotted a player character strutting about, wearing nondescript leather armor that Argo knew was illusioned to appear plainer than it really was. This player’s avatar appeared old—about 70 years old, except ripped like a body-builder in his mid-20’s. He peered more closely, accessing his HUD and examining the player:
Name
BobTheBreaker
Race
Human/Lycan
Class
Warrior
Laoch
Imoibrí
Level
20/20
Health Points
710/710
Stamina Points
200/200
Mana Points
40/40
Laoch? Imoibrí? Argo had absolutely no idea what those classes were, what they were capable of. They were probably a rare class that BobTheBreaker had unlocked in a quest.
That wasn’t important now, however. He focused on BobTheBreaker, activating his Morph ability to assume the man’s appearance.
Activating Morph… select target to emulate.
Target selected… Argo is Morphing into Level 20 BobTheBreaker!
Mana
24/25
Level 20 BobTheBreaker disguise draining 1 mana every 3 seconds…
Estimated Morph duration remaining: 73 seconds…
Argo hissed in surprise. The drain from Morphing into a high-level player character was far greater than he expected. Assuming the form of a level 3 Orc Grunt only drained him 1 mana every 30 seconds, while assuming the form of a max-level player like BobTheBreaker drained 1 mana every 3 seconds!
Without a thought to inspect himself, he strode out of his wood shed and made a beeline from his side of the street to the market square. He didn’t have time to second-guess himself, to check and see what worked or not. He just had to move—now!
The Skragogs were stopping people and asking if they had seen a tall, dark-haired player with a pale complexion—his character’s default appearance. Argo looked over at the far side of the square, at the main thoroughfare where he had entered it. Argo took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he approached the crowd, emulating the original BobTheBreaker’s walk. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he strode forward without sparing anyone a glance. He channeled Bob’s no-nonsense scowl, a grim frown that told everyone that he had somewhere to be five minutes ago and that he’d rip apart the fool that got in his way.
He had just reached the main archway when long clawed fingers dug into his shoulder. Argo’s heart lurched with terror as he was spun round and came face to face with a Skragog.
“You, wolf-man, have you ssseen this ssscrawy little thing, long black hair and pale ssskin?” the evil creature demanded. “Shifty-looking weakling, wearing black clothing and carrying a violin?”
Argo found himself unable to speak. He stared at the Skragog, his mouth agape. He had no idea what to say or do. He glanced at his HUD, checking the timer on his disguise.
Mana
14/25
Level 20 BobTheBreaker disguise draining 1 mana every 3 seconds…
Estimated Morph duration remaining: 43 seconds…
The Skragog made a frustrated noise and brought his drooling fangs closer to Argo’s face. “Anssswer me, wolf-man!”
Argo (Morphed as BobTheBreaker) has come under suspicion by Skragog Tough! Skragog Tough scrutinizes Argo…
Argo kept staring at the monster and then remembered exactly who he was trying to imitate. He scrunched his face up into an angry scowl and glared at the Skragog with disgust—first at the creature’s limb holding his shoulder, before pulling it up at the spidery, eight-eyed face watching him.
“No, and get that hand off of me if you don’t want to lose it.” He growled the words out, raising a corner of his upper lip in a sneer. If the Skragog was going to call him out on his lycan race, then he might as well ham up the performance.
The Skragog, clearly taken aback by the threat, released Argo. He looked him up and down, giving him a hostile once-over before grunting and moving on to interrogate a naga slithering past him.
…but does not see through the BobTheBreaker disguise! Argo passes skill check (+10 experience!)
(492/500 XP, 7 XP to next level)
Argo would have exulted at the experience boost he gained, basked in self-satisfaction, but he just didn’t have the time.
Mana
07/25
Level 20 BobTheBreaker disguise draining 1 mana every 3 seconds…
Estimated Morph duration remaining: 20 seconds…
He didn’t even bother turning back to the Skragog and just strode away—increasing his pace as his morph timer counted down. The people around him misinterpreted his haste for annoyance, clearing the way for the pissed-off half-lycan powering his way through the crowd.
He made it past the busy market square, and found a secluded alley obscured by deep shadows and piles of rubbish. He dropped his disguise, sighing with relief when he realized he only had 1 mana left—less than 3 seconds on his Morph.
He crouched low, checking to see if any of the Skragogs were following him. The thugs were spread out all over the other side of the street, confident they had him trapped inside a tight perimeter. He leaned back on a grimy wall, let the adrenaline wash out of his system and his mana regenerate naturally on its own. 1 mana every minute was slow as hell, and he wished that he packed a mana potion or even some manaroot.
That’s when he spotted an Admin standing around in the busy square, checking out the disturbance caused by the Skragogs but staying out of it.
The shapeless, faceless blob of light was given a wide berth by both PCs and NPCs. The Admins weren’t chatty Community Managers that players could joke and hang around with. No, they were all business—focused entirely on making sure that the Astra-verse functioned as it should. They went in, fixed a problem, and got out once they did.
Argo was just about to approach the Admin, call for help, when a blinking line of text popped up in his chat log:
{
sys.admin_override
AstralCagetimer.setvalue[0]
sys.admin_override
set_combattimer_[0]
}
The lines with ‘AstralCagetimer’ and ‘combattimer’ gave Argo an idea. He checked his HUD and found to his utter delight that he was no longer afflicted by the Astral Cage debuff.
He immediately opened his ghost pack and stuffed the violin in, cramming it into an inventory slot to keep it safe from any would-be looters. He also opened up his HUD, checked to see if he could log out now.
Log out of Astra-verse?
Yes
No
No message about being in a fight, no warning about what would happen to his avatar if he logged out during combat. He sighed deeply, throwing his neck back and slumping his shoulders. Now that his problem was solved, he really didn’t want to bring himself to the attention of the Admins—especially since Casadraggrio’s hack allowed him to pick up the Spy sub-class before he hit level 10.
He was about to exit the game when he decided instead to get a coach back to the travelling hub and book a carriage back to a city close to Witchstorm Manor. He put up the hood of his cloak, obscuring his face as he stepped out of the alley.
Despite all the trouble the violin had caused, despite the setbacks and the loss of the bowstring, he was determined to continue the questline. He also wanted to learn why the Skragogs were after his violin in particular, why they were so intent on acquiring it for themselves.
And the most important question of all: why would anyone go so far as to hack his character to prevent him from getting away with the violin?
Chapter Ten: Respite and Reflection
“Creative individuality is at the core of what an actor is,” said Celby Sellem to the small group sat around him in the coffee shop. “It defines how an actor approaches a role and how they shape it to fit their own individual outlook and philosophy. Through this process, the actor connects with their Higher Self, and it is the Higher Self that plays the role. The actor has to step aside and let the Higher Self do all the work from then on.”
“What rot,” Tomi retorted. “I don’t need to give way to any Higher Self to play a role. I just learn my lines and make sure I don’t bump into the furniture. That’s all you need, not that everyone can do both of course,” he added, shooting a sly glance in Argo’s direction.
“Is that really all there is to it?” Celby asked in an amused voice. “Don’t you want to reach for more, to seek more depth and go beyond your limits?”
“I just want to hit the big time and get paid loads of money,” Tomi replied. “That’s what acting’s all about. It’s a one way ticket to easy street. Just a flash of my killer smile, and with a face as perfect as this I’ll have patrons fighting to take me under their wing. They’re not interested in depth or going beyond your limits or Higher Selves, they just want something hot to look at and a story that gives them a few thrills and doesn’t make them think too hard. The artsy plays you write don’t cut it in the big leagues.”
Aaheli shook her head in despair. “The big leagues want holo-movies and holographic performers. Once your looks start to go, Tomi, you won’t be able to compete anymore. We’re talking about a tradition of genuine performances, of telling stories that keep people on the edge of their seats, that engage them and make them think. That takes good writing of course, but also an actor who is compelling. It’s your own creative individuality that achieves that, and it goes beyond a pretty face and the ability to deliver lines smoothly. It comes straight from the heart. That’s where your Higher Self comes in.”
Tomi snorted. “You’re getting lost in pretentious nonsense. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up like those dinosaurs Collaban and Quilby. Theatre today is all about the spectacle. As long as the set looks good and the actors look cool, you can get all the best parts. That’s what counts.”
“I like the sound of accessing a Higher Self though,” put in Argo as he sipped at his coffee. “It’s like you let yourself be taken over and can be anyone you want that’s completely different from you. An actor should be able to become anyone in the world of any age or background and be completely convincing.”
“Well, that’s totally you,” Tomi said in a mocking voice.
Aaheli elbowed him sharply. “Shut up. Argo you’ve improved a lot. You’re really shining as Tom Snout at the moment.”
Argo reflected on this. “Thanks. Mr. Collaban doesn’t seem to be getting so frustrated with my performance and I only had one lettuce thrown at me in Friday’s performance.”
“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement,” Tomi retorted. “Maybe the greengrocers were low on stock.”
“Can you tell me more about how to access the Higher Self?” Argo asked Celby, ignoring Tomi’s jibes.
“I could talk about it all day,” the playwright said gamely, “but I should have been somewhere fifteen minutes ago.” He drained his coffee cup and got to his feet. “I’d love to continue this conversation again sometime, if you don’t find it too boring.”
“No, I mean yes, I mean no,” Argo stumbled. “What I mean to say is that no I don’t find it boring, and yes I’d love to hear more about your ideas.”
Celby gave him a nod and smiled. “Thanks Argo, that’s much appreciated.”
“Yeah,” said Aaheli. “Unlike some other people at the table, Argo and me are not so arrogant as to feel we know it all when it comes to acting.”
Tomi let out a sharp laugh. “Real subtle. Don’t get so excited, though. Argo needs all the help he can get. He’s so desperate he’ll listen to any crackpot idea going.”
“Well, I’m still very flattered that anyone would be willing to listen to my crackpot ideas,” Celby chuckled. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Actually, I need to go too,” said Tomi, glancing at his watch. “I got a hot date tonight. You see, Celby, I don’t need to connect to my Higher Self to be a successful actor. My good looks and charms ma
ke me irresistible.”
“Oh please,” Aaheli said, rolling her eyes. “Your humility is overwhelming, Tomi.”
“No, it’s good that he’s confident,” Celby replied. “This is what I’m talking about. A successful actor is successful because he thinks he’s successful. Change your thought patterns and your Higher Self will do the rest. It can change your whole DNA and make you more creative.”
“See that, Aaheli, I’m teaching you a thing or two,” Tomi chuckled as he got to his feet. “I should be a grand master like Celby here.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a grand master,” Celby laughed, “but it’s nice to know that you have potential, Tomi. You want a ride? I’m going toward Signet Way.”
“Thanks man,” Tomi said, putting on his shades in an exaggerated manner. He pointed at Argo and Aaheli and flashed his dazzling grin of pristine white teeth. “Laters.”