“When you’re facing the unknown,” Carl said, pulling at another loose strap, “sometimes it’s best to overpack.”
Overpack was putting it lightly. Mitch had spent the better part of his life learning what every weapon in Skirmish could do and couldn’t do, but half of the stuff currently filling his inventory he’d never laid eyes on before. The other half was the best-of-the-best—weapons that most Skirmish players only saw in their wet dreams. The guns alone—his trusty Razor rifle, a pistol with sight for range, a high-velocity sniper rifle, and a heavy shotgun—weighed more than he should have been able to carry in any regulation Skirmish match. Not to mention the rocket launcher, grenades, fortified Tensile Mark VI body armor, knives ... the list just kept going.
“And everything’s set back at your home rig?” Carl asked. “Bio monitors, food supply?”
“Seventy-two hours as of a few minutes ago,” Mitch confirmed. “But this better not take that long. I’ve got shit to do.”
“Well, you’ve only got forty-two hours to work with,” Carl corrected him. “The clock’s been ticking for a bit now, sir. For your team members.”
“I’m not a team member. Not anymore.”
“Of course, sir,” Carl said, finding an open spot for a massive hunting knife. “This should be the last of it. Let’s test the camera.” He clicked a floating screen to life and Mitch saw his own view looking into the tablet, which itself looked into the screen, again and again, folding into infinity.
“Live feed?”
“I sure hope it comes through,” Carl said, running down his checklist like a Boy Scout checking his knots. “We’re going to try our best to keep a live signal. So far, the pings from the team are pretty faint coming back into the main Karma environment. There’s a good chance we’ll just get snow. Not really sure. I guess that’s why they call it the unknown, right?”
Mitch just grunted back.
“Just about done here,” Carl said. “The stamina upgrade helped—not the numbers I had originally hoped for, but at least there’s a solid boost to your carrying capacity.”
“This stuff is just going to get in the way. All I need is a rifle and a target.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it, sir. We’re just not sure about how the team on the other side is holding up. If they’ve encountered resistance, you’ll need to restock them as well. That—and these code packages take up a good amount of memory.”
“Code packages?” Mitch checked his inventory list, finding two new entries he’d never seen before in any Skirmish match.
MISSION-FORWARD CODE PACKAGE (6)
PARACHUTE CODE PACKAGE (2)
“What are these?” Mitch asked.
“Something new we cooked up,” McDougall said as he approached. “They’re your ticket home.”
“What do you mean?”
“The parachutes are your get out-of-jail free card,” Mac said. “If you get into trouble, just activate one and you’ll be right back in Skirmish. The code doesn’t care about who you are or where you’re going, it just gets you home. From there, we can reassess the situation and take the next action we need. You probably won’t need them, but just in case.”
“And the others?”
“Mission-Forward packages. Exactly what they sound like. Pull the pin, and you and anyone in contact with you will be transported to the next team member’s location,” Carl explained.
Mitch did some quick math. “Why do I need six? There’s only four team members out there, and besides, they’re all going to be together. Why do I need more than one?”
The room paused, each member of the crew stopping their work to wait on Mac’s answer.
“What the hell? Somebody tell me what’s going on.”
“We’ve got some new intel, just this morning,” Mac said, in a tone Mitch recognized from over the years. It was Mac’s voice reserved for talking someone off a ledge. “We got back faint signals on Nefarious team member locations, just bits and pieces really. Our engineers believe Nefarious may have become separated.”
“Separated?” Mitch asked. “Like, how separated?”
“There’s a good chance each team member was pulled into a different game world altogether,” Mac replied. “Remarkable, really, when you think of the possibilities and the expanded Karma universe. A multi-world environment with the ability to bridge—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Mitch cut him off. “Hold it right there—I have to go to four different game worlds?”
“Might be five, actually,” Carl said, reeling back after Mac shot him a look.
“Why five, Carl?” Mitch asked between clenched teeth.
“Seems like you weren’t kidding about unplugging from the news feeds,” Mac said. “Mitch—you know the Skirmish game better than anyone. You know that in competitive play, it’s five to a side. If a team were to go in with just four—”
“They brought on a new team member,” Mitch said, struggling to maintain his best poker face. Of course they did. “A new leader. They replaced me.” The sting hit him harder than it should have, and he felt downright stupid for not considering the move before. Someone else leading his team, someone else calling the shots. It made sense—they had to move on, and they sure as shit weren’t called the Nefarious Four, for good reason. It’s what any team would have done when their last asshole of a leader walked out on them, left them for dead. Players from all over the world must have lined up to join the Nefarious Five.
Good for them, right?
Carl jumped in to fill the awkward silence. “That reminds me, Mr. McDougall, we’ll need to do a quick audio summary for the mission log before dematerialization.” Mac nodded back.
Carl activated five screens across the main dashboard, a fifty-foot wall of glass, polished chrome, and holograms growing green as the lights dimmed through the control room. Five faces looked back at Mitch, some looking like playing cards, others more like mugshots. Four familiar faces and one foreign one. The four on the left brought back a wash of memories, good and bad. They looked so damn familiar, but so damn different—like the years between them had taken more than their fair share from each. And on the far right, Mitch got his first view of the newest member of the Nefarious Five, complete with a chiseled chin and a winning, gleaming white smile. Mitch hated him already.
“Karma Systems record, Mission Twenty Two Zero Two, preparing for go status,” Carl said with a dull, well-rehearsed, corporate-issued tone. “Subject is Mitch Mantock, Karma handle, 11Spitfire11. User ID creation date: July 8th, 2028. Entering unknown Karma System worlds to find and return the Nefarious Five.”
Mitch waved Carl along, churning a “let’s get on with it” motion with his hand. The first player box moved forward into focus as stats, pictures, and video clips showcasing a collection of greatest hits filled the main screen.
“Nefarious Five member one: Fuse22Boom, known as Fuse. User ID creation date: January 17th, 2029. Ranked eighth on the all-time Skirmish boards. Master of demolitions and explosives. Skill concentration: precision.” The image showed the familiar, massive form of Mitch’s old best friend. Fuse was muscled and looming, but he always leaned on his intellect more than his brawn. Dark skin, wise eyes. His avatar wore a flat gray suit, padded here and there but not needing much, with a slick helmet showing faded black and gray stripes and a plastic visor, all designed to protect him from any shrapnel his own blasts created.
It’ll be good to see that asshole again.
Another operator confirmed the information, highlighting the next box in the row.
“Nefarious Five member two: DozerJustOwnedU16, known as Dozer,” Carl continued, bringing Dozer’s avatar front and center. Her slight form was just a ruse—no indication of the damage she could inflict. Her armor was light—fitted across the top with a skirt below—except for a heavy patch guarding her right shoulder, meant to loosen the bruising from heavy rifles. Her go-to weapon, a double-barreled shotgun complete with a flip pump mechanism, never left her left hand, leaving
her right hand open for whatever flavor of ass-kicking she felt like that day. “User ID creation date: October 1st, 2044. Ranked third on the all-time Skirmish boards. Holds sixty-five Karma trophies for rifle and pistol skills, personnel kills per minute, and overall destruction.”
Dozer. Didn’t like me before, certainly not going to like me now.
The next box lit up. As Mitch focused on the face, all he could do was shake his head.
“Nefarious Five member three: 33PunchDrunk33, known as Punch. User ID creation date: unknown. Ranked fifth on all-time Skirmish boards; however, all ranks and records are currently under review by a Karma independent investigative panel.” Punch’s smug mug was smiling back at them like a pig in shit. He was the superstar of the group and knew it all too well. His black leather jacket hung over a worn tan shirt below. Dusty brown leather straps across his body held his weapons and inventory in place and matched the tint of his thick beard perfectly. A white and blue scarf wrapped loose around his neck. He looked like a cross between a Gulf War mercenary and a modern day pirate, complete with two laser pistols that could fire in any direction without warning.
“No records on Punch?” Mitch asked. “Is that a glitch? He’s been in the game as long as it’s been around.”
“We’re pretty sure he hacked into our system a few months back,” Carl said. “Erased some information, added other entries. A few things tipped us off.”
“Like what?”
“We don’t have an achievement labeled ‘Largest Penis in Karma,’ and yet his records now show that he’s held that title for the past eight years.”
“Sounds about right,” Mitch said.
“Nefarious Five member four: MaNiMaChuSayo, known as Chu. User ID creation date: November 6, 2048. Ranked tenth on the all-time Skirmish boards. She has the highest rank velocity of any user in Skirmish history—late to the game, but rising fast. Expert level medals in all twenty-two sniper rifles kits available in Skirmish, the only user to achieve this, by far.” Chu had been the newest member of the team when Mitch had left—a young, quiet girl that kept to herself. But when she spoke, people listened, and damn, she was one hell of a shot. Her outfit reflected her Korean roots. A metallic weave of chainmail, the silver cut by a blue diagonal cloth stripe across her chest. Her sniper rifle was decorated with sketches and faint outlines of feathers and dull circular patterns, with stripes at each end mimicking the ropes of ancient bow handles.
The final box highlighted, showing a new face. Handsome and buff, looking like the nicest, most helpful, person in the world.
This guy’s obviously a dick.
“Nefarious Five member five: OfficialDak2045, just known as Dak. First in his class at New West Point. Master of tactical and operational skills across every Skirmish situation. Current role ... ” Carl swallowed hard, cringing as he spoke the final words. “ ... Team Leader.”
“It’s fine, kids,” Mitch said. “I’m a big boy. Water under the bridge. Let’s get on with it—what happens next?”
“We’re about ready to dematerialize,” Carl said. “The entry process should feel similar to starting a new Skirmish level. We’ll send you to your starting point: the last location where a Nefarious signal was detected. Once you’ve found them, just activate a mission-forward code package, and you and the team member will be transported to the next location. It’s actually a revolutionary bit of tech—I’m quite happy with it. Your high Skirmish level helps, of course, and allowed us to add a safeguard into the mix.”
“Safeguard?”
“Base level characters can’t jump worlds,” Carl said. “The code package—if dropped or found by anyone who shouldn’t have it—will just appear inactive and dead in their hands.”
“Why do I care about that?”
“Well, we wouldn’t want game characters from one world jumping to another, or back to Skirmish, now would we? Other than you and the team, of course.”
“Of course.” Mitch checked his inventory again, grumbling. “Still doesn’t explain why I have six of them.”
“Never hurts to overpack, sir.”
“You said that already.”
“All just precautions,” McDougall said, approaching the prep station. “With the arsenal you’re carrying and your skill level, this will be a cake walk. We’re not sure what’s on the other side of this transport, but I sure as hell don’t envy them. And as for the team—well, let’s just say they should be very happy to see you.”
“Some more than others,” Mitch muttered.
“One more thing,” Carl said. “When you activate the code package, you’re going to need to make sure it’s go-time. The packages won’t just transport you and the team out of the world ... they’re designed to erase the entire world behind you on your way out. No do-overs.”
“That seems like more than just a footnote.”
“We’re not taking any chances,” McDougall said. “We’re getting early signals that there might be more rogue activity in these worlds than we originally thought. The AI is building something out there, and until I know what it is, I don’t want to take any risks.”
“You hate surprises,” Mitch said.
“That’s right. No loose ends, Mitch.”
“So this isn’t just search and rescue,” Mitch said. “It’s a combat mission now.”
“Just like the old days,” McDougall said.
“And just like the old days, my price just went up.”
“Ready to initialize mission,” Carl called out to the room.
All eyes turned to Mitch as the dematerialization process began. He held in a breath, long and deep. He’d been so preoccupied with the new toys in his inventory and the mission details, he hadn’t stopped to think about what he was going to say to his old team.
I’m sure I’ll figure something out.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mac’s voice boomed through the control room, his arms raised high. “We’ve got the top Skirmish player of all time, stacked to the brim with the best weapons and armor in the game. I don’t know about you, but I feel sorry for any son-of-a-bitch that messes with him on the other side.” McDougall laughed and the room joined in, forming a chorus of cheers. “Bring them back, Mitch. Help us put an end to this mess. I’ll have a drink waiting for you.”
Mitch shook off Mac’s excitement and readied for transport. “Let’s get this over with.”
The room turned to fuzz as digital ropes of neon green swirled around his body. He pulsed his hands in and out, stretching them, watching his fingers dematerialize and disappear into nothing. With a whoosh, everyone—Mac, Carl, and the rest of the Karma Systems support team—disappeared.
Mitch’s view turned to black.
EIGHT
Where is Everybody?
AS THE TRANSPORT process trudged towards completion, a brand new game world built around Mitch in chunks and layers. Mitch’s eyes filled with a rush of red. The tingle of rematerialization pulsed through every vein as pixels hardened into forms, sifting the wash of digital fuzz into shapes—earth and sky, terrain and air.
He felt a mix of sand and rock digging into his kneecaps and looked up to find a landscape of dark, scorched earth. He reached down to grab a handful of dirt—chalky, black, thick as soup. Like burned moon dust leaving deep trenches behind the swipe of each finger. A sour, sulfur-infused air burned the back of his throat as he fought back the urge to cough it right back up into his hands.
Rising to his feet, Mitch found his bearings and quickly realized he wasn’t in Skirmish anymore. The valley went for miles, carved from cliff walls forming a point far off, miles away. At the center of the wide open terrain was a sight resembling an old west ghost town—buildings banded together in the middle of a sea of nothing, like refugees huddled in the cold. The town was surrounded by zigzag stone walls and joined by a crusty iron gate, swinging on its hinges, welcoming him inside. The slanted angles of rooftops and towers poked at the sky like daggers, turning to silhouettes with the falling sun, li
t only by a handful of torches.
The path at his feet led a few hundred yards right to the center of the front gate, and looked to be not carved by man or beast, but by forces of nature. Mitch couldn’t tell if water, wind, or flowing lava was to blame. A seemingly endless field of volcanoes, their smokestacks alive and churning, looked down from up high, littering both ridges above him. Some spewed red, others coughed smoke. And to top it all off, a sea of giant, winged creatures flew lazy circles above, casting their shadows down on the valley below.
“Where the hell am I?” Mitch whispered. “Where’s the team?”
He brought up his wrist screen to scan the area, but a status message, flashing red, caught his attention before he could reach his map. This can’t be right. His face fell as he tabbed through his inventory.
He hit refresh. Again. And again.
But nothing changed.
WEAPONS:
ARMOR:
MISSION-FORWARD PACKAGE (6)
PARACHUTE PACKAGE (2)
A neighboring volcano signaled with a spout of fury, scorching the sky. The earth and air fell further into darkness as the clouds swirled, blocking the reach of the sun. A flying creature bellowed out from above, clipping the wing of its nearest neighbor and shooting a spray of ice and fire, warning the others of its power.
Mitch looked back down at his inventory, empty as the day he was born. He had no idea what this place was, had no clue where his old team was, and had nothing to fight his way out with.
“Fuck.”
NINE
Fix It, Carl
NO MATTER how long Mitch stared down the ghost town, the damn thing didn’t flinch, didn’t breathe, didn’t give up a hint of what was to come. He’d spent the past few minutes just taking it in—a grab bag of two and three story buildings, flat black under the blood-red sky. All tacked together with impossible angles, nothing propping them up them but black dust and hot air. Wooden catwalks connected some towers; ropes and nooses dangled from others. Wooden signs swung in the wind, pulled back by rusty chains and digital gravity. He thought he might have even seen a tumbleweed roll by at one point, but he couldn’t be sure.
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