by K. T. Hanna
Sinister walked up, slung an arm around Murmur’s waist, and squeezed so tightly Murmur coughed. She spoke in a low voice that might have been deliberately sultry, except the words didn’t match the tone at all. “Don’t look now, but I think you have a visitor, and lately, he’s been pretty shitty when it comes to you.”
Murmur took in another breath, contemplated just counting to a thousand and hoping that everything went away, and then realized she had to figure this shit out anyway. Confront it head on or whatnot. Putting on her most impassive face, which, as a locus, still kinda seemed a bit snooty, she turned to face her visitor as he approached.
She was glad of her mask as soon as she saw him, because the change in their stance and expressions alone shocked her not to mention that someone else was behind him. Murmur definitely hadn’t expected Jinna to be there, and from Sinister’s reaction, neither had she.
Masha was actually smiling. Well, half-smiling, anyway. His eyebrows were pinched, showing he was a bit worried, but that could be about a lot of things. And Jinna, well, that might have been the starkest comparison. He seemed almost sheepish—and tired. The lines around his eyes were slightly more pronounced than they had been, and she worried that playing for this long had put too much strain on him.
“Mur?” Masha spoke first, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “That was a cool encounter.”
Jinna nodded in agreement and cleared his throat. “I think I owe you an apology. I’m not sure what’s gotten into me lately, maybe I’m overtired, but sorry that my DPS has been sucking wind lately. Just wanted to apologize. I’ll step it up.”
“No problem,” Sinister cut in, her smile cloyingly sweet. “Going to keep hanging with your rogue friends? I must confess I really like Karn.”
Jinna hesitated and shrugged. “She’s pretty good for a new rogue. But I’m glad to be rid of Jirald, even though it leaves us one short. I swear, that boy gives me a headache. It’s hard to think when he’d around.”
That caught Murmur’s full attention, and she whipped around to face them both, looking at Masha and Jinna in turn. “What do you mean, you’re glad to be rid of Jirald?”
Jinna shrugged uncomfortably and looked beseechingly over at Masha. The cleric hesitated momentarily before he began to talk. “We defeated James, and then it was like I felt something odd. As if something had been weighing me down but had just fallen off my back. I had no idea what to make of it, but damn, defeating that boss felt amazingly good.”
“That’s great and all,” Sinister interrupted as her patience ran out. “And I’m so glad you enjoyed the fight, but focus.”
Masha laughed, and he sounded as tired as Murmur felt. “Sorry. Anyway, I looked around for Jirald to see how he’d liked it—pretty sure he would have hated it because nothing died. His DPS wasn’t good, but no one’s was, because our aim wasn’t to kill it, just occupy it until we could figure out the puzzle.”
Masha cracked his neck from side to side, and a nervousness overcame him. “But Jirald wasn’t there. You can still see him in the raid party, but it looks like he’s out of casting range. I’ve been all over this platform, behind the pillars, back up toward the path we entered from, and he’s not anywhere to be found. He’s just…vanished.”
Murmur eyed the cleric for a moment, knowing that sometimes he liked to play tricks. But he definitely wasn’t doing so now. Her sensing nets may as well have flashed up a notification that he was telling the darned truth. She frowned, trying to figure out where the hell the rogue had gone. “So it seems he’s still logged in, technically still in the raid, but we can’t find him?”
“Got it in one.” Masha frowned thoughtfully. “I’ve even tried to send messages or to grab him through guild voice, but he’s not responding at all. Usually that’s nothing strange. He’s reclusive and not easy to get along with, but he will usually respond to me if I make the effort to send messages or track him down.”
“Do you think he might have scouted ahead?” Murmur asked doubtfully but willing to entertain the idea.
Masha shook his head. “Not really the self-sacrificing type, in case you haven’t noticed. Also, if he had, he would have responded to something I sent whether it was with sarcasm or inferring that he’d find some shit to kill when the raid wouldn’t.”
“Yeah. I can see that.” Murmur cringed, quite amazed at the way Masha dealt with the rogue. She’d lose her temper so many times with that sort of attitude. Although, like her, he hadn’t been given his first choice for a class, so some of that irritation was understandable. She thought for a few moments and sighed. “Well, I guess if he has crept off or something, we’ll find him soon. I mean, he’s obviously not out of the zone or we wouldn’t even see this much of his health bar.”
“That’s what I don’t understand.” Masha spoke almost to himself like he was lost in thought. “Also, I swear the last few dungeons have seemed to pass in a dream. Like it wasn’t even me playing. Bet we’ll all get a heap of sleep after this urgent prison break is done. Apparently, my brain could really use one.”
Murmur watched as he walked back, fully aware of the frown on her face.
“Well, that’s the Masha we actually don’t hate.” Sinister spoke loud enough that most of Fable could hear. Then she turned to Jinna. “And what the fuck was up with you?”
Jinna blanched. “I’m not sure. I feel like I said and did some things, but it’s all mixed up. Maybe I was way overtired, almost like I was dreaming but wasn’t actually dreaming. I’m really sorry if I fucked up badly.” He let out a sigh, running his hand through his beard. “I do remember screwing up a couple of interrupt rotations, though. Which, there’s literally no excuse for, considering even Karn had no trouble with them.”
“It’s okay, Jinna,” Murmur said softly, glad to have her friend back, even if she wanted to know just how Jirald had managed to insert himself into their minds. Because there was no doubt it was connected. Jirald suddenly not in proximity and the death glare players go back to normal? Yep. Coincidence, smoincidence.
“Okay, everyone. Going to be tight going for a bit. Cuddle up, three wide and file out in ten lines. Veranol, Murmur, and I will make up the front line,” Devlish called out loud enough to sound over the entire area. “Esolan, Masha, and Ishwa will bring up the rear. Everyone else, in between. If you didn’t know your fellow raiders yet, you will now.”
A chorus of groaning rose up from the raid, but there was good-natured humor lying under it. Murmur heaved a sigh of relief. Two down. One sent home. How the fuck did James end up as a boss in here, anyway? There was so much she didn’t know that was going on, and Somnia owed her some damn answers.
Somnia Online
Gefängnis Island - Prison Dungeon
Version 2.92352 – Activated by Murmur of Fable
Late Day Thirty-Two
As James dissipated into thin virtual air, Jirald gritted his teeth together. Enough with all this sparing lives shit—he wanted to kill monsters. He wanted to eviscerate them. He knew they shouldn’t have teamed up with Fable. Even his influence over the idiotic sheep who followed her only extended as far as his proximity to them did.
He leaned back against one of the large rocks jutting out of the floor and felt himself falling. His head spun like a top until he was so dizzy he leaned over and puked. It felt real, solid even. The smell and taste lingering in his throat, the action made his eyes water. He glanced around, unable to see any of the raid that had been there only moments before. Frowning, he tried to access his menus. Thankfully they were still where they should be, but he couldn’t seem to bring up his log out or restart screens. Damned system bugs, or maybe it was his headgear. He had been tinkering with it for the last couple of weeks since realizing that Murmur’s couldn’t be the same factory standard as everyone else’s.
Maybe he should have left well enough alone, but it was so hard to do when he’d set his mind on destroying something or finding out its secrets. He needed to win at everything, including w
hat he’d set as goals.
He sighed and pushed forward, following the black rock pathway he could see. One more good thing about locus. They were sturdy, hardy, and had night vision in more than one way. It wasn’t the same as infravision, and it didn’t work like night goggles, but it was adept at picking out black from an array of similar colors.
In the distance, he could see a very soft blue glow. Sort of like the runes that shone under a magical locus skin. He watched it for several seconds and decided to follow it but was careful not to step off the narrow path and into the darker-than-black water that lapped at the sides of it as if it was hungry to swallow him whole. There was curiosity and stupidity, and he really didn’t think of himself as stupid.
Finally, he made it to the end, feeling much colder than he had when he started. From this side of the path, he couldn’t see any traces of where he’d once been, but the small, glowing opening beckoned him inside. Between choosing watery death, or glowy death? He chose the glow.
Except it wasn’t death awaiting him. It was a well-groomed, exceptionally pretty calico feles. She stood next to an old-fashioned brick fireplace, with a grill around the front of it, and old fire stokers next to it. She didn’t turn around to look at him but tended the fire first. So he waited and felt as the warmth seeped back into him and brought back feeling to the tips of his fingers.
“You shouldn’t stare, you know,” she practically purred at him before turning around. “I am Riasli.”
She offered him a paw, and he took it, thinking it was odd that her hands resembled actual feline paws instead of the typical gamer furred human hands. “I’m—”
But she didn’t let him get further. “Oh, I know who you are. We all know who you are.” Her sharp teeth poked through the smile like she was betting on something—or hoping for something.
He wanted to take a step back but found his feet unable to move. In fact, it felt like he was glued to the spot. Riasli’s grin grew wider, so wide he might get gobbled up in Cheshire-like fashion. As it widened, her teeth became sharper, and her eyes glinted with predatory intent as if nothing he could do would stop him from being eaten alive.
“That’s just it, young Jirald the rogue. You can’t ingest a part of the world, a part of its evolution, and come out unscathed. And we all know your brain’s ingested far more that your share of the getashi.” She began to pick at her teeth with her claws, like she was pulling out some other schmuck who’d gone against her.
Jirald didn’t panic. Whatever this quest line was supposed to be, it had definitely piqued his interest. He was fine and still alive, so this feles had to want something from him, which meant that until he knew what it was and gave an answer, he was perfectly safe. He crossed his arms and eyed the feles disdainfully. “What the hell is this questline?”
The damn game chose his class; it put him in direct opposition to her, and now it was taking away his ability to play in the game the way he wanted to? He’d had it. Struggling against the binding that held his feet, he glared daggers at Riasli as she watched on, a slow and amused grin forming on her kitty features. Jirald had to clamp down on his anger toward the NPC. After all, he had much more convenient places to direct it.
“Really, maybe I need to rethink this. I truly thought you were smarter than this.” She made that tsking sound and slowly approached him, looking so far into his eyes that he thought she could see his core.
He stood there, eyeing this feles. There was something about her that stood out. She didn’t act like an NPC, nor did she act like a dev or any player at all. He wanted to know what the endgame of this whole interaction was supposed to be. So he didn’t react but stood there, watching her, wishing he was an enchanter so he could read her damned mind.
“That’s much better,” Riasli purred, misreading his curiosity for compliance. Her eyes glowed with a strange phosphorescence. “All you need to do is watch me, listen to me, and let me in. I promise you won’t regret it.”
And then she peeled off with laughter. “Who am I kidding? You’re going to regret this and the choices you’ve made to get here for the rest of your very short life.”
Her teeth lowered like something mechanical controlled her jaw, and her eyes grew to a wild and uncomfortable orange. His mind lit up with images, with visions of death and blood, of the entire raid force strewn before him. Some on their knees with missing limbs begging him for mercy. Others couldn’t because headless corpses couldn’t do much.
More than anything else she begged, while holding the body of her dead bloodmage…
“Is that all you’ve got?” he asked, his voice soft and, to be honest, quite bored.
“What?” She didn’t seem to understand what he’d said, so he tried again.
“That?” He waved his hand quickly in front of his face indicating the visions she’d sent his way. “Is that the best you can do? Some errant limbs, a few headless and respawnable heads rolling around? Seriously, what are you, an amateur?”
Riasli seemed taken aback. She didn’t answer immediately, which only confirmed for him that this wasn’t a scripted exchange. There was weird shit all throughout this game, and he loved that about it. The broken bits he’d found, the bits that made no sense. The oddly overpowered sense of hidden and hybrid classes when mixed just right.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, sinking into that gritty feeling he got whenever he knew he was about to land a killing blow on a target. It was all he could do not to cackle at his own pun.
She scowled at him, like a cat about to scratch him, but they both knew it would do nothing, and she backed down. The uncertainty hung over her like a neon sign. He’d unsettled her. Yet another thrill raced up Jirald’s spine.
“Are you going to tell me how I get to make that vision a reality, or are you still trying to pretend you’re all mysterious and powerful?” Jirald spoke in his best bored voice, while inside he suppressed gleeful laughter. Finally, something to have fun with, something to challenge him and rip everything else apart. He wanted to know how to take the vision she’d shown him and amplify the effects tenfold.
Riasli scowled. “Fine. It’s with your consent, then.” She waved a paw at him as if he’d sucked all the fun out of her task.
Pain struck through his body as his limbs began to morph, but he refused to scream. This would give him the power to fight back against everything that had ever gone wrong to him in this game, in other games, and outside of them. But it wasn’t enough.
Just as she was about to walk away, obviously thinking he’d have to take a while to deal with the power she’d just gifted him, he grabbed her arm. “Not so fast.”
Riasli blanched. He hadn’t even known a feles could do that. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go of her forearm.
“What?” she snapped at him, and even without being able to read her mind, he could practically taste a hint of fear.
He smiled. Not just because he was giddy with anticipation, but because he knew the effect a perfectly timed locus smile could have on someone.
“You’re going to tell me everything I need to know to achieve those lovely results you showed me. But I want more. Scale it up a level or three.” She scowled at him and tried to yank her arm away again, but Jirald only held on tighter, the darkness in his mind egging him on eagerly. “I don’t think so. You’re going to tell me, and you’re going to tell me now.”
Storm Entertainment
Somnia Online Division
Game Development Offices - Shayla’s Office
Day Thirty-Two
Updated Headgear Verification - Version 8.293.42. Process going live in…
Three.
Shayla put her head in her hands and waited for it to activate. She wasn’t even sure if this was a good idea. Anyone who fiddled with a headset in a way that made its ping back test as an unverified model would be given a forty-five-minute window to exit the game. They would only be allowed to re-enter the game once the headgear had been restored to factory s
ettings. She had gone over every single member in Fable’s current raid and exempted them for the duration of said raid. Shayla really hoped she’d got them all.
Two.
Almost there. She was bracing herself for the amount of calls they were about to receive. She’d already pulled all available customer service agents from home and readied scripts for everyone. After all, no one ever read the Terms of Service they agreed to, or if they did, it wasn’t many of them.
One.
It clearly stated in the TOS article three, subsection F that headgear had to be pre-approved by the company in order to provide a safe environment for the players to participate in. Any and all models or modifications that had been tried and vetted were already loaded into the headgear verification module. Should any player have been found to have tampered with the headgear that could bypass verification, they would be given only one chance to rectify the breach. Otherwise their account would be terminated.
Updated Headgear Verification Process - Version 8.293.42 has been activated.
Notifications commencing.
Shayla watched the reactions in real time. So many people being told that their headsets had incorrect status features, where people had modified them so the HUD looked different or so certain aspects that shouldn’t be available were. There was a reason the HUD looked like it did. A good reason that involved making it easier and less stressful on eyes and not about to trigger anyone with epilepsy. There was so much that went into the damned game, and here people were being reckless. Reckless with a device that used laser accuracy to pinpoint portions of your mind.
It took maybe ninety seconds from the time the notifications began to hit the server for the phones to show maximum call volume. And she wasn’t sure why they called them phones; they just did. Some sort of throwback, she presumed. But here it was, her time to shine. The proverbial “I want to speak to a manager” was about to flood them. While Silke and Thomas would work through them first, not to mention several other supervisors, eventually a chunk of them were going to leak through to her, and she had no idea where Laria was.