Spy: Reborn

by Angie A Huxley

  “Bye guys,” added Celby as the two men headed out of the coffee shop.

  “Tomi really loves himself a little too much,” Aaheli said, scowling after the good actor. “His ego is way too huge. He wouldn’t last five minutes working on the film set with Rozzazio.”

  Argo smiled. “I can well imagine. He’d be a right diva backstage.”

  “Rozzazio doesn’t tolerate any of that kind of behavior,” Aaheli said. “He prefers actors who are humble and down to earth—ones who contribute useful ideas instead of just look down on everyone else like they’re dirt. You’d like him.”

  “Speaking of which, how are you getting on?” Argo asked. “We haven’t really had time to catch up, have we? I’ve barely seen you in weeks.”

  “I know, the schedule has been punishing but worth it,” Aaheli said. “Rozzazio expects perfection. Most of the time, I seem to deliver what he wants, but it can be really draining.”

  Argo nodded. “I’m just pleased you’re getting on well. You could be on the way to great things.”

  “Oh, I can’t think that far ahead,” Aaheli said. “It’s scary just getting through this job.”

  Argo looked at her in surprise. “You don’t get scared. You’re the bravest person I know.”

  “It’s all an act,” Aaheli replied, her eyes twinkling. “That’s what an actor does. I’m all confident on the outside, but really I’m just a jumble of nerves inside.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing fazes you.”

  “You’d be surprised what fazes me, Argo,” Aaheli replied. “That night in Granthaven, when you told me what was going on and how you felt… that really worried me. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared before.”

  Argo thought back to that terrible night, and a deep feeling of shame washed over him. “I’m really sorry about what I did. I should never have gotten drunk like that.”

  “You should have gotten drunker sooner,” Aaheli chuckled grimly. “Then maybe you would have told me what was going on, before things got too much for you. You know you can tell me anything and I will do everything I can to help you.”

  “I know,” Argo said, a heavy pain gathering in his chest. “I was being stupid and selfish.”

  “Stop doing that,” replied Aaheli. “Stop calling yourself negative things. You keep doing it and you’ll really believe you’re no good, and that’s not true. If you were a real loser, I wouldn’t care about you so much.”

  “I… thanks,” Argo admitted with a sad sigh. “I try and have more faith in myself, but it’s really hard. I just can’t seem to be confident like Tomi. The more I try, the more I feel like a deadbeat.”

  “Relax. You’re doing a good job anyway,” Aaheli said. “I’m seeing a real improvement in you.”

  Argo looked up at her in surprise. “Really?”

  “Sure. I wasn’t just being nice when I said you’re getting better, you know. When I caught you practicing the other day, I thought you were much more natural and you seemed to be enjoying the performance as well.”

  “It’s a much lighter play and I have fewer lines, so it makes rehearsing easier. That’s probably it.”

  Aaheli shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. You deliver your lines with more life, more passion. You really were the character and you gave it your own kind of spin. I’ve never seen that in your acting before. It’s kind of weird, to be honest. Are you doing something new, Arg?”

  Argo thought about this and wondered if it was linked to his time in Drake Realm.

  He thought Henk was full of it when he said that playing a Spy in an Astra-verse game could help him. It was just a game, right? What could he ever learn from skulking about like a creep in a simulated world?

  A lot, apparently.

  That raid on the Scourgesicker encampment, assuming on the aggressive demeanor of orcs to match his physical disguise. The Skragog ambush that forced him to adopt the guise of a high-level player, keep his cool despite the razor-thin window of time he had.

  Just two simple events in his life, insignificant specks of play in a virtual world. It was nothing compared to the years he spent pining over the stage. It was his dream, to stand out there and win the adulation of the artistic elite with their refined tastes and haute couture apparel. He wanted them to recognize his worth, to become more than just another spoiled brat inheriting the wealth of his parents.

  And yet, his time disguised as an orc, as BobTheBreaker, taught him the most important thing about acting: it is always about the audience, never the actor.

  The audience wants to see the tragic Benvolio play the peacemaker, have their hearts broken by his unsuccessful attempts to prevent the Capulets and Montagues from descending into bloodshed. They want to see the loyal Horatio carry on Hamlet’s legacy, carry his hopes and reveal the whole truth after his passing. They want to hate Tartuffe, the hypocrite who demands complete religious devotion from others while secretly indulging in adulterous desires himself.

  Bogo Grubfondler and the Skragog toughs were no different. Bogo wanted a helper who would unquestioningly obey his commands, accept the Shaman’s superiority without question. The Skragogs wanted a desperate noob they could steal a legendary artifact from—not a level 20 Lycan who could give them trouble if they pushed too hard.

  That latest experience with the Skragogs was the most important lesson he learned so far. The audience will turn away from what they don’t want, in disgust or disinterest, depending on what they see.

  Argo Derren had to die whenever he put on the mask, whether he walked up the stage or activated his Morph ability. He had to kill Argo Derren and replace him with whoever was needed. Magarito only required an assistant right now, a flunky she could bully into doing whatever she wanted. She was like Bogo Grubfondler that way, getting drunk over prestige and letting everyone know that she had the power to indulge in her ego trips.

  Argo gave her what she wanted, killed his sense of self and ‘Morphed’ it into the servile thrall she desired. She was just another Orc Shaman, another Skragog Tough… and this simple little twist changed everything he thought he knew about acting.

  “Thanks for saying that,” he said with a warm smile—a genuine one that the man called Argo Derren reserved for his friend. “And yeah, it’s something new alright.”

  “Ah! I know! It’s that new Spy class that Henk provided for you,” Aaheli said with a grin, waggling her eyebrows. “You did a fantastic job getting into the bandit’s compound, walking in and out like you owned the place. We’d have never done it without you. Kip even admitted it off-hand, and you know how stingy he is when it comes to complimenting others.”

  Argo laughed softly, allowing his smile to widen. “Oh stop. You’ll make me blush.”

  “Speaking of blush… is Magarito still giving you a hard time?”

  He gave her a wry smile. “Do I need to answer that?”

  Aaheli shook her head. “No, I can well imagine. To be honest though, you’ve stuck with her longer than I thought you would. That’s a lot, considering most assistants run off the first week they start working with her. I just… I just worry about you putting up with Magarito and her outrageous behavior, you know?”

  Aaheli’s cheer died down, her eyes searching his own for signs of anguish or despair. “You know, if she’s too much… you can just quit. Nobody would think any less of you, and I’d rather you get out sooner rather than later. Better to get out now than you fall into… you know. That.”

  “Believe me, I’ve thought about it,” Argo replied, not letting his smile slip. “The generous payout does a lot to keep me motivated, but it’s not just the money that keeps me around her. It’s… I’m just getting used to her, I think.”

  Aaheli made a sour face, scrunching her lips in a frown of disgust. “I can’t think of anything worse than getting used to Magarito.”

  Argo laughed. “It’s not so bad, in the end. Miss Pasivah
may not be the most… erm… agreeable person around, but she is pretty creative in her own insane way.”

  “Miss Pasivah now, is it?” Aaheli twisted her lips in a wry grin, shaking her head. “Well, as long as she’s not squeezing you too hard. Still, I’ll keep my eye open for other opportunities,” Aaheli said. “I’ve asked around the set to see if there’s any extra work going but there’s nothing at the moment. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you trapped in the clutches of that woman for too long. You have my word on that.”

  “Thanks for that, but a masochistic part of me wants to stay with her for now,” Argo chuckled out. “The pay is good and I get shorter hours when she starts schmoozing with her high society contacts. I also learn a lot from simply hanging around her. She’s one of the few people who have connections to the elite that keep traditional theater alive despite the all-encompassing reach of the Astra-verse. I mean my family’s got money, but we’re still a level below compared to the people Magarito knows. And they’re the ones I have to please if I want to advance my career as a stage actor.”

  “Wow,” Aaheli replied dumbly, her eyes wide as she examined Argo in a new light. “I… never thought about her that way. I’ve always seen her as this crazy nutjob with more money than common sense.”

  Argo smiled, stirring his coffee and taking a sip as Aaheli digested his words. “But that’s just me. I still have a long, long way to go to get back on my feet.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” replied Aaheli with a cheery smile of her own. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, and so will the others. You’re not alone.”

  “I appreciate that. I don’t want to let you down, especially after all you’ve done for me.”

  “We don’t want to see you get hurt,” Aaheli said. “The Manticore Crew is not just another guild formed out of convenience. We see each other as family. Okay, Kip is a little bit of a douche, but we outnumber him, right?” Both Argo and Aaheli chuckled at that, holding their coffee mugs up in salute.

  “More importantly though, we want to see you succeed. I want to see you succeed, Argo. I want you to be happy, to chase your dreams and catch them in the end. If you want to go home, carry on the family business, then I’d be perfectly okay with that… if I didn’t know that doing so would crush you.”

  “Thanks,” Argo returned with a sheepish smile.

  “But right now though, my own dreams tell me that we need to eat a couple of butterscotch muffins with extra cream.”

  “Hmm. Now that you mention it, I think our dreams match up,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll get them. Along with two mint lattes too. It’ll be my treat.”

  “You sure? I mean, didn’t you just say you were having a bit of money problems?”

  Argo shrugged it off. “Eh. A little coffee and pastry isn’t too much for the person who literally saved my life.”

  “I… well, when you put it that way…” mumbled Aaheli with a weird smile, the tips of her ears turning red. “If that’s the case, then make mine a grande, yeah?”

  After they had eaten their muffins and finished their drinks, Argo and Aaheli took the time to go on a slow, relaxing walk along the beachfront. It was a gloriously sunny day without being too hot. A gentle breeze refreshed Argo as he looked out at the scattering of people sunbathing and playing in the sea. The scene gave him a sense of inner peace, and though places like Granthaven offered views and ambience of the same pleasantness, there was a sense of something off about the artificial reality of Drake Realm.

  Everything in Drake Realm felt as real as it gets, sure, but there it was different knowing that this was reality. This was the world where Argo Darren lived, where he defined his identity.

  Despite all these thoughts, Drake Realm still pulled at him. Reality was a harsh mistress, where lessons were paid in blood, sweat, tears. Drake Realm was a world where even death was a minor inconvenience. If he had been found out by the orcs or the Skragogs, he could still respawn and try things again. The price of failure was inconvenience… which made Drake Realm the perfect place for him to work on his acting skills.

  This was why he looked forward to logging back into the Astra-verse later that day. He wanted to run more raids and quests with the Manticore Crew, see how he could contribute as both Bard and Spy. He wanted to learn more songs, build up his repertoire of infiltration skills. He wanted to run the Henrietta Sorzatia questline, return one day to Gorgevade and hunt down the bowstring to complete the set.

  He wanted to master the virtual world, learn all that he could, and bring what he learned over to the real world. He turned to Aaheli, placing a hand on her shoulder as he did so. “Thanks again, ‘Lee.”

  “Whuh?” Aaheli blurted out, coming out of her own reverie. “What for?”

  “For standing by me, for pulling me up when I was at my lowest… for everything, really.”

  “I… yeah, we talked about this. It’s no problem, Arg.”

  Argo smiled gently, squeezed her shoulder for good measure, and turned back to enjoy the view before him. He closed his eyes, let the breeze play through his face, and sighed in contentment.

  He looked forward to tomorrow, to the challenges and opportunities it would bring, and widened his smile.

  Epilogue

  “Damn you, Duke Red!”

  The hacker cackled, holding up the Spear of Abaddon as he watched the party of five players drown in a sea of goblins. He paddled air with his feet, overseeing the carnage from the safety of his ledge while idly fondling one of the gems on the spear’s shaft.

  “Really,” Red tutted as the party’s Life Druid went down with a slung stone in her temple, a crude dagger in her gut, and a jagged machete in her shoulder. “You people ought to keep a better eye on your surroundings.”

  “Screw you, you dirty hacker!” the party’s Chronomancer screamed before shifting back in time, standing a few feet away from his original position to avoid a barrage of arrows. That wouldn’t save him from the Redcap Goblins lurking in the shadows, though.

  “Well… not that you could detect me anyway,” Duke Red snickered to himself, watching the dwarven Artificer blow himself up with explosive grenades—taking down the two Wargs savaging his legs. The various methods of invisibility available to players were, after all, determined by skill proficiency and skill checks. The invisibility used by system administrators, however, shared no such limitations. PCs, NPCs, and monsters would see him only if he wanted them to.

  “Ooooh. How noble,” Duke Red drawled, leaning in to get a better view. The team’s Paladin stepped in front of the Peace Dancer, shielding her with his body and taking the axe blow meant for her kneecaps. White Knighting at its finest: the man gritting his teeth and protecting the love of his life with everything he had.

  The Dancer’s avatar was physically attractive, no doubt about that, but the despair on her lovely face made her far more beautiful in Duke Red’s eyes. He luxuriated in her screams when her legs were paralyzed by goblin poison, preventing her from executing a folk dance that would have bolstered her party’s mana regeneration and resistance to mental attacks.

  He tittered with delight, watching the weakling cry out in horror, watching her savior go down when a team of goblins skewered him from his sides. Her cries soon died down as the goblins made short work of her too, the weakest member of the party. She managed to cry out a weak curse in his direction before she expired, but he just wiggled his fingers as he smiled behind his half-mask.

  Duke Red sighed in satisfaction, basking in the afterglow of the slaughter. Nothing like a good trolling session to lift his spirits, help him forget his—

  Duke Red grimaced, hating himself for ruining the moment. His happy mood evaporated quickly, and now he couldn’t get out of the self-inflicted funk he found himself in.

  The level 8 Peace Dancer was the lowest in this group, which averaged about level 12. They brought her along to power-level her in this dungeon, share the loot and experienc
e as they quested for the Spear of Abaddon. Making it through all the trials, getting so close to their goal only to lose everything in the end… such sweet misery.

  Duke Red always found it fun to hunt down the idiots thinking they could play hero in the Astra-verse, pretending to be someone they’re not. He loved ruining their dreams, reminding them of just how weak and powerless they really were. That they were just lumps of crippled flesh, not glowing heroes of prophecy.

  A game is just a game, after all. No use feeding your ego with artificial victory, with scripted scenarios designed to feed your ego and make you believe you’re somebody in life. Everybody’s a nobody, and Duke Red would make damn sure everybody remembered that little bit of truth.

  This Argo Derren, though… he was a different piece of work altogether.