Aspirant 2: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure

by Maxx Whittaker

  I try again. “We were minding our own business when your guildmate tried to rob us. We defended ourselves.”

  “If that’s true, that makes you more worthless.” Armstrong cracks his knuckles. “You’re out, Skinflint. Can’t have Obsidian’s name sullied by weakness like you.”

  “No, Arm! They tricked me!” he whines. “Let me use the guild potion to heal and I’ll teach these assholes a lesson.”

  Armstrong doesn’t look back. “A mouthful of that is worth more than your life. I’d rather feed you to the snakes.”

  “Listen,” Skinflint says in a voice like a leaking balloon, “that’s cool. I don’t need hands. Just let me visit the–”

  “Shut up,” the woman says, speaking for the first time. She twitches her fingers and a blade of shadow slices from the floor and through Skinflint’s face. It pierces the top of his skull with a sickening crunch and his body goes completely rigid. His hands raise, clawing uselessly at the wispy blade before it evaporates and he falls to the wooden floor. He twitches a final time as the sharp tang of piss fills the air.

  “That’s better,” Armstrong rumbles. “Now, your turn.”

  The distinctive snick of Syl’s claws fills the air. Mika’s hands smolder as her flames ignite. I stand between them, meeting Armstrong’s glare. “We told you. He attacked us. We defended ourselves. End of story.”

  The giant’s muscles slide over each other like some grotesque science experiment as he booms out a laugh that echoes in the little space. He doesn’t even spare Mika and Syl a glance. “Oh, I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. Skinflint’s a thug. There are a lot of ‘em in Obsidian. That’s kind of a side effect of owning most of the server.” A finger like a sausage pokes me in the chest. “We woulda recruited you, too, under different circumstances. I can see you’re shitkickers.”

  “But…”

  “But we can’t have random kids like you giving the guild a bad name, and Skinflint made enough of a ruckus after you played street surgeon that everyone knows the story by now.” His shrug is almost apologetic. “Gotta make an example of you. Nothing personal.”

  My mind races. I could try to explain that we won’t respawn. That our situation is unique. But the last time I tried that with Havel, who seemed way more levelheaded than this douche, he didn’t even come close to believing us. Which I guess is understandable. It’d be like someone walked up to you and told you that water was safe to breathe; you know they’re crazy because that’s how the world works.

  In Lifestream, you respawn when you die. It’s an immutable law of the game.

  Except, for us, it isn’t.

  Maybe a different tack. “What if we promise to stay quiet? Believe me, we want none of this. If you kill us and we respawn, we’re free to yap to anyone that’ll listen.”

  “See, that’s the thing about fucking with Obsidian,” Armstrong says, twirling a golden ring set with a fat red gem around his thick finger. “When you respawn, we’ll be there. Every time. Until you decide that Lifestream’s not the game for you.” He leans forward, blasting me with breath that smells like rotten garlic. “And we remember. Doesn’t matter if you come back a year from now. We’ll be there.”

  “Then I’ll make a new character.”

  He roars with laughter. “New character? Kid, are you nuts?”

  “You can only have one,” Wick pipes from below the table. “One character per person for life.”

  The woman examines her nails and looks like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. “Armstrong, why are you wasting words on idiots that don’t even know Lifestream’s rules? Just end this so I can get back to my business.”

  Irritation flashes across his face. “Fine. Sorry, Dusk.”

  Dusk doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even act like she hears him. Her fingers dance, and tiny shadows flick across her fingers like a coin trick as she strolls away to examine one of the swords on the wall. The message is clear to everyone present: You can handle this alone.

  Fine. They want to underestimate us?

  I lift a table with my mind, setting it to rotate slowly. “Fine. If that’s how it has to be…”

  Armstrong cocks his head. “Really a shame we can’t recruit you. That’s pretty advanced telekinesis for… What are you? Level five?”

  “Two.”

  It’s the first thing that gives him pause. “Bullshit.”

  My turn to shrug. I rotate the table faster, willing the girls to be ready. We need to take him fast; Dusk still isn’t even paying attention. If we can kill this asshole quick, before she realizes things aren’t what they seem, maybe we can take them one by one.

  “Well, kids, it’s been fun, but–”

  I don’t let him finish. I hurl the table at him like a battering ram. Syl leaps just after it, leading with her claws.

  There’s a frozen moment where I’m sure we’ve got him. He can’t see Syl behind a table that’s a half second from bludgeoning him in the face.

  Then the ring he’s been twirling flashes bright red.

  The table explodes as it impacts an invisible wall. Syl hits a moment later and bounces off like a living pinball. Her body flies across the room, smashing more furniture as she bounces between and off of tables.

  Mika shouts, throwing a ball of flame. It impacts the same barrier, splashing across its surface and igniting one of the booths.

  Armstrong switches fingers, tapping a different ring. The flames damp like they’ve been smothered, going out almost instantly.

  Astra, running full bore just behind Mika’s flame, skids to a halt. Her arms are blades as long as swords, but she doesn’t attack Armstrong’s shield. Her eyes dart to mine, and I give my head the slightest shake. Wait.

  Armstrong grins as she backs up a step, arms melting. “Hot damn, I knew you kids were asskickers the moment I saw you! Really is a shame that I have to kill you. I mean, bravo, really. Great party makeup, and Terminator girl is a really nice touch.” He rolls his shoulders, and the cracks that result sound like a mountain crumbling in the distance. “But let’s be done with all this, shall we?”

  “I can do that,” I say. Time to try something more extreme. My eyes narrow as I send my senses out, reaching for Armstrong’s heart. Force didn’t work, so maybe…

  Yes. My mental probe extends through his shield. I reach for his chest…

  And I’m stopped. My mind batters at another barrier, one that feels completely different. Like it’s made of the same stuff that sits at the core of my chest. My power.

  Armstrong sneers, holding up his left hand. A silver band with a white diamond is lit like the sun, pulsing. He shakes his head. “I take it back. You may be fighters, but you’ve got no imagination.”

  “How?” I reel back my mind so hard I stumble back a step.

  He follows in a long stride that eats the distance between us. “You can be anything in Lifestream. Do anything. You really think you’re the first asshole who wanted to be Jean Grey? Seriously?” The ring slowly dies, fading to a dull glow. “You can’t touch me. Just lay down and die so we can get this over with. The lady doesn’t have much patience, and trust me…” He cocks his head, expression friendly. Like he’s doing us a favor by killing us so she wont. “…we don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  Dusk trails a pale finger along a curved blade near the bar. I can’t even tell if she’s listening.

  Armstrong stands above me, face mocking. Syl groans as she struggles up somewhere at the back of the room. Mika and Astra look to me, eyes wide, waiting to follow my lead. And Three stands behind the bar, rag slowly polishing like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  It’s all so stupid. The bullshit that got us into this, some random bully that couldn’t leave us the hell alone. This pile of muscle that’s too thick to reason with. His bitch of a partner that doesn’t care whether we live or die. Us, trying to save the goddamned world for these ungrateful assholes.

  Rage blossoms in my chest, w
hite hot. My heart pounds like a drum, and my vision closes until only Armstrong exists.

  I’m not dying here. Not after everything we’ve been through.

  Armstrong’s hand closes, forming a fist like a side of beef.

  Not today.

  A punch like a freight train sails toward me. He doesn’t try to hide it. It’s telegraphed so obviously that a child could see it coming. That’s how sure he is that his fist will take my head off. He’s a level 22 Lifestream beast that could probably eat a newb like me for breakfast.

  But he doesn’t know shit about Citadel upgrades.

  I catch his fist.

  The world seems to freeze as every detail etches itself in my memory. His meaty punch impacting my open palm. My muscles screaming in protest as I take his strike and stop it cold. His tiny green eyes, widening in surprise as he tries and fails to push through my grip. The tension of his bicep as his momentum’s arrested. Dusk slowly turning, mouth opening in a silent O of shock.

  Three’s rag, suddenly frozen.

  We stand like that for ten beats of my galloping heart. Armstrong’s mouth works before he whispers a single word. “How?”

  My answer is a return punch. I channel every fiber of my fury into it. These pieces of shit want to kill me and the people I love. They wouldn’t listen. And now I’m done wasting words. Finished trying to talk my way out of this. There’s only one language they understand.

  At the last moment, before my fist impacts Armstrong’s face, I throw every fiber of my power into the strike.

  His head detonates like a melon. My fist bashes through his teeth, shattering them and not slowing me down in the slightest. I hit so hard that what remains of his head hits the far wall in a shower of gore and bone.

  His body stays upright for long seconds as the room freezes in shock. His fist still sits in my open grip. I toss it aside and his body follows, thunking to the ground with a meaty slap.

  For a second, no one moves. “You… You…” Dusk swallows, brain still not processing what’s just happened.

  Element of surprise, asshole.

  She finally recovers, and her fingers raise toward me. But Syl’s already there, and ten claws spear the sides of Dusk’s neck, penetrating a millimeter before I manage to yell “Wait!”

  Syl stops instantly. Muscles like iron strain as she stands with her blades in the other woman’s neck. She looks to me, questioning.

  “Sam?” Mika says, stepping over Armstrong to stop in front of me. She blocks my view of his corpse. “Are you… Are you okay?”

  Anger so white hot that it burns still courses through me. Did I stop Syl out of compassion? Or do I want to kill Dusk myself?

  I don’t know.

  Mika stares into my eyes and reaches up slowly. My fist is still in the air, frozen rigid and covered in blood. One of Armstrong’s teeth is wedged between my closed in fingers. Mika plucks it out, tossing it aside before slowly lowering my hand with both of hers. She watches me like I’m a wild animal. Like I’m a bull that might charge at any moment.

  It deflates me. Anger drains away like water through a sieve. “Sorry,” I manage, slumping.

  She touches my face. “Back with us?”

  “Yeah. Just… This is all so stupid. We’re trying to save them, and this is what we have to deal with? Threatening you? The others?” I take a long breath.

  “I know. I get it. Just… Don’t lose yourself, okay?” Her smile is crooked, hiding her worry. “We need you.”

  I hug her close. “I won’t.”

  A ding rings out. I gasp as my body instantly repairs, as tiny tears to the muscles of my shoulder earned when I caught Armstrong’s fist mend themselves. I close my eyes as a wave of force passes through me, and when its gone I feel stronger. Faster.

  Mika opens her eyes. Her lips are slightly parted, and she inhales sharply. “Oh, that was nice.” She glances above my head. “Sweet. Level 4.”

  “You can level by killing other players?” I stretch. “That seems like a dangerous precedent.”

  “Right?” She grins. “Still useful to us, though.”

  “It affected all of us?”

  “Everyone in your party.” Her mouth quirks. “I’m only level 3, though.”

  Wick crawls from below the table, takes one look at Armstrong’s headless body and pukes. “Oh god,” he moans, wiping his mouth. “Oh Jesus. You… You…” his words trail off as he passes out, and I’m not sure whether it’s from alcohol or fear.

  “Sam,” Astra calls out. “What are we doing with the other one?”

  “You’re so fucked,” Dusk spits. Her fingers twitch like she’s moments from killing all of us. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Astra says, arms flowing into smaller, more surgical blades. “You saw what I did to your guildmate. I’d hate to slice off fingers are pretty as yours, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

  I almost laugh. She’s getting more human all the time.

  Dusk does laugh. A derisive burst like we’re too stupid to live. “You think it matters what you do to me? You just murdered one of Obsidian’s officers. Armstrong’s been working on that character for two years.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You just became the most hunted people in Lifestream. In the world. You think that people this powerful and this rich don’t have real life connections? They’ll find you, and everyone you love, and they’ll–”

  “Shut up,” Syl says, echoing Dusk’s words from before. She presses her claws a millimeter deeper. Dusk cries out but freezes.

  “What’s the plan?” Mika says, visibly fighting panic. “If she’s not full of shit…”

  My mind works. “Dammit.”

  “Kill her?” Syl hisses.

  “Yes, and then let’s get out of here.”

  Dusk’s eyes widen in fear as Syl’s arms flex, ready to sever the other woman’s head. But just before she cuts, I stop her. “Wait. Wait. I have a better idea. Astra…”

  “Yes?” She stands rigid, little blades still a finger’s width from Dusk’s hands.

  “We need a way to bind her. Keep her from working her magic.”

  “You’re going to bring her?” Mika recoils. “Sam, are you sure?”

  “We need leverage. A bargaining chip.” I glare at Dusk. “A hostage.”

  She sputters. “You think that’s going to stop them? You think that Avalon gives a shit about my life? They’d just tell you to kill me so I can respawn. You’ve seen how they feel about weakness.”

  “Maybe,” I drawl, hoping she’s lying. “Or maybe not. There’s a huge difference between a shithead like Skinflint and a powerful level 25 mage like you, isn’t there?”

  Dusk’s beautiful eyes widen. “How did you know my level?”

  “Astra,” I say, ignoring her. “What do you think? Can you bind her? Strong enough that we can take her with us? Keep her quiet while we figure out our next move?”

  “We could just knock her out.” Mika hefts a bottle and slaps it in her palm like she’d enjoy doing it herself.

  “No good. We need to get the hell out of here and carting around the body of a well-known Obsidian seems like it might attract a tiny bit of attention.” I chew my lip. “No, we need a way to make her come willingly without struggling.”

  “Fat chance,” Dusk spits.

  “I have an idea,” Astra says slowly. “I’m not sure if this will work, but…”

  “What?” Mika asks. “And please tell me it involves pain.”

  Dusk stares at Mika like she’s murdering her in her mind. Maybe she is.

  Astra reaches toward Dusk’s mouth. Her hand melts and reforms into a ball the size of a marble. She pauses at the other woman’s lips and closes her eyes. The ball transforms rapidly into a cube, then a capsule. It shifts through colors rapidly, from silver to white to black. Finally, Astra opens her eyes. “Swallow it.”

  “What?” Dusk tries to pull away, then winces as Syl’s claws dig into her flesh. Tin
y threads of blood run down her neck like a collar. “No way.”

  “Swallow it or die,” I say. “Believe it or not, we don’t want to kill you. I didn’t want to kill him,” I say, jerking a thumb over my shoulder. “But you assholes wouldn’t leave us alone. So now you have a choice. Lose years of work and start again, or swallow this and we let you go when we’ve got this all figured out.”

  Dusk licks her perfect lips, eyes darting for the door. “God dammit,” she whispers. “Fine.”

  Astra presses the ball to Dusk’s lips, then uses her finger to push it deep. The Obsidian’s face is stained deep red with rage, and she looks like she wants to bite Astra’s finger off, but in the end she swallows. “Okay,” she coughs. “Now what.”

  “You can let her go,” Astra says.

  “You sure?” I ready my power in case this goes bad. “What did you do?”

  Astra’s smile is supremely self-satisfied. “You’ll see.”

  Syl glances to me and I give her a little nod. She retracts her claws.

  Hands slap to Dusk’s neck as she falls to her knees. She turns her rage on us like she can’t believe her luck. “What did you do?”

  None of us answer. We take a step back as she gets to her feet, turning between us.

  “You idiots,” she sneers. Her fingers dart at me and twitch.

  I flinch, hoping Astra’s right and I’m not about to become a flesh and shadow skewer.

  Nothing happens.

  Dusk pales. She tries again, stabbing fingers at Astra.

  Nothing.

  “What did you do?” she repeats, voice hollow.

  Astra winks at me. “Just a little programming trick that only an AI could pull off. I wrote a little program that I put in that pill. It suppresses anything resembling magic.”

  I gape. “You can do that?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Wait, you didn’t know?”

  “Well, not for sure,” she hedges. “But we have the potion, so…”

  I laugh, rubbing my forehead. “Welp. Glad your experiment worked.”

  Dusk’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “You… You stole my magic.”

  “For now,” Astra says, enjoying this way too much.