Side Quest

by Christopher Kerns

  Years ago, the London square had been rebuilt into the Skirmish VR world on a one-to-one scale, quickly becoming one of the most sought-after levels in the game. The gameplay set the square twenty years into a dystopian future, and users joined non-player freedom fighters as they made their last stand against a corrupt, faceless government. The designers had done a hell of a job, too. Machine gun nests carved into the third and fourth story windows gave good cover, but restricted movement. Nelson’s Column—the towering granite column dominating the lower side of the public area—lay toppled, cracked clear in half in the bone-dry basin of the old fountain, prone like a drunk after a long night of wrong turns. The National Gallery building looked down on the square, now adorned with red and black flags of the new regime. Barbed wire, ash, and fear were everywhere.

  But today, the frantic nature of the square had boiled over into uncharted territory. Mitch could feel it as soon as he’d rematerialized, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds to realize why. There was a new fly in the ointment, dressed in red, standing next to the fallen column at the center of the fountain, shooting everything in sight.

  “I’ve got eyes on Red Code,” Dozer said, hunched behind the half-wall on the National Gallery’s front balcony. The Gallery’s double staircase was a perfect perch to watch the destruction down below and plan their attack—a full, sweeping view of the square with just enough protection to stay out of view. But any user who’d played the Trafalgar level knew the downside of their hiding spot: once a player was spotted on the balcony, they could be surrounded from all sides in seconds.

  Mitch double-checked the stealth settings for the team, resting a bit easier after seeing the ON switch still locked into place. Let’s see what we can see. Mitch popped up from behind the wall to see Red Code, standing proudly at the center of the fountain, picking off Skirmish users with a casual ease, without the burden of effort or aim. Ping. Ping. Ping. Right hand, left hand. Like he was swinging lobs in a casual game of tennis, a cool drink in his hand, without a care in the world. But there was something different about him. His torso had grown more muscular; he’d sprouted up a few inches as well. And on his back were a pair of enormous, extended wings, tipped with silver claws at both extremes.

  “You know,” Red Code yelled out, his voice echoing past the blasts and sirens, “you hear so many great things about this level. Everyone always going on like Oh my God, Red Code, you seriously have to play Trafalgar. But, can I be honest with you cretins for just one moment? Like, for realzies? I’m just really not getting the whole vibe. I don’t know, maybe it’s better in the spring? Or is there, like, a good podcast tour that I’m missing out on?” He completed his rant by sweeping his wing at a user running for cover, sending him flying into a wall, sliced straight down the chest. “I just feel like tours take away from the authentic experience, you know?”

  The Nefarious team fell back down behind the wall, the adrenaline flowing. Their weapons were ready, location secured. All they needed now was a plan.

  “I say we go in, now,” Dozer said, double-checking the settings on her weapon. “The longer we wait, the more users will get taken out.”

  “And the more likely Red Code realizes we’re here,” Punch agreed. “I’m with Doze—best to bring the crazy before he knows the crazy is coming.” He snuck another quick look. “How did that fucker grow wings?”

  Fuse snuck one eye back over the ledge, studying Red Code’s movement as he strode across the square. “Curious. He’s not eliminating users. He’s getting his shots in, wounding them, but not finishing the job. I’d guess they have to be alive for him to access their data reserves.”

  Mitch crept forward to join Fuse on the rail, peeking over the edge. Wounded users crawled for what was left of their virtual lives, squirming for cover, crippled and broken. But Fuse was right—they were alive, at least most of them. Red Code continued to fire, but was inflicting only non-lethal damage. Shoulder shots. Leg shots. Nothing close to what he was capable of.

  Red Code jumped out of the fountain and made his way across the square, taking his time. He walked with pride, kicking wide and tall, like a Broadway performer leading the cast right into a big final dance number. He nudged blocks of marble and concrete away with side steps, winding up and punting a larger rock like a corner kick, sending it skimming across the courtyard and into a wounded user’s head. The man lay helpless in a corner, huddled just a few feet under the Nefarious team’s perch, yelping from the fresh jolt of pain. Red Code approached, stretching out his wings before leaning down and palming the man’s skull.

  “The doctor will see you now,” Red Code said, his head tilting back towards the sky, a single beam of light reaching down from the heavens to reflect a soft white off the shine of his helmet. “Oh, wonderful. So the kids are good? And you’ve been excercising, what, a few times a week? That’s perfect. Tell me, does it hurt when I do this?” He twisted the user’s neck as a wash of digital noise rose up from the limp avatar, flowing through Red Code’s arm, up and into his chest. He shuddered, freezing in place as he absorbed the light. “Okay—mostly just greatest hits in here. God, I mean, would it kill you to do something original for once? Something new? Life really is about branching out … I have to say, I consider myself a lifetime learner, and I’m positively addicted to it.” He lifted the body up to eye level, peering into the dead user’s eyes for any signs of life, and then tossed him away, moving on to find his next victim.

  “Jesus,” Punch whispered. “What a dick.”

  “He finds new strength with each user,” Chu said. “We must stop him.”

  Mitch stared at the lifeless player splayed out below them. He couldn’t help but see his own face painted on the man’s body. The avatar was now just a shell—his legs twisted behind him, his eyes dead and staring up at the sky. “We’re getting out of here,” Mitch said, sitting back down with his back flush against the wall, bringing up his admin settings. “This doesn’t feel right. This isn’t where we make our stand.”

  “C’mon now, kemosabe,” Punch said. “No time for cold feet. This is where we throw down. Right here. Right now.”

  “There won’t be another chance like this, Mitch,” Fuse said.

  “I just want to kick some ass,” Dozer added, rubbing the barrel of her new weapon. “Please, can I just kick some ass?”

  “We’re going after him,” Mitch said. “But not here. We need to get him away from all these users. He’s just picking them off. Draining them, gaining power. If we get him into an empty level, we can face him on our terms, on our turf.”

  “We have no turf left,” Chu said.

  “Mac said he’s looking for us,” Mitch said, scrolling through his list of Skirmish campaign levels. “So we give him something to see … in a place he’s never been. If we can find a level where Skirmish users hardly ever go, he won’t have much mission data to work with. We’ll have the advantage.” He cycled through the list of top levels, searching.

  Mountains of Rio? No, not enough cover.

  Vancouver Sea Battle? He’ll see us from a mile away.

  The Chinatown … that’s it.

  “Chinatown Docks,” Mitch said, typing commands into his panel. “That’s where we make our stand.”

  “Nobody likes the Docks,” Punch said. “It’s a bullshit level. Even we’ve barely beat that one.”

  “Exactly,” Mitch said. “Less chance that Red Code has grabbed win wire data from any of these users on how to play it.”

  “The logic checks out,” Fuse nodded. “But you’re forgetting one thing: how do you plan on getting Red Code there?”

  “We drop our pants,” Mitch said. “Turn ourselves into bait.” He switched the stealth settings off for the team, took a deep breath, and hit ENTER.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Punch whispered at Mitch. “What the hell are you doing? He’s standing right down there. And you’re sending off a signal flare? Like, hey, crazy, insane evil AI program. The best players in the history of th
e game are right up here, in case you wanted to drain our data and leave us for dead?”

  “Just getting his attention.” Mitch said. “Once we transport, he’ll see we’ve gone to the Docks, but won’t know where in the level we are. We’ll still have the element of surprise.”

  “You sure about this?” Chu asked.

  Mitch shook his head. “No, but too late to change our minds now.”

  The team watched as Red Code strolled back to the center of the square, stretching out his wings and picking off opponents with casual, single shots from his pistol, seeming bored with the whole mess. As he approached a body laying in the fetal position behind one of the square’s famous stone lions—the statue’s face now shot off, its back painted with traces of blood-stained fingers—Red Code reached down to palm the user’s head, but stopped short. He stood tall, twisting towards his neck like a golden retriever hearing a bird in the distance, and spun a lazy circle.

  “Oh my,” Red Code said, pacing, each step growing with excitement. “Oh my, oh my. A whole collection of big hitters just showed up uninvited. The five of you didn’t RVSP, which is downright rude, but I’ll let it go this one time. You just made my dance card—now all I have to do is track. You. Down.”

  “He can’t see us,” Dozer whispered, gripping her rocket launcher to her chest. “This might actually work.”

  “We’re out of here,” Mitch said, selecting the team on his admin panel, prepping for transport. “Red Code knows we’re his best chance at user data. He’ll follow us to whatever mission we choose. Once we land, we’ll get our plan together. We’ll just need a little time. And a distraction.”

  “What distraction?” Chu asked.

  “When he lands at the Docks, he’ll be looking for five Skirmish players,” Mitch said, bringing up his contact directory. “So that’s exactly what we’ll give him.”

  “You’re looking for bait,” Punch said. “Cannon fodder.”

  Mitch nodded. “I know just the guys for the job.”

  FORTY

  Fire Everything You’ve Got

  “SORRY, you want us to do what?”

  The Blue Fire team, some still waking up, others scared out of their pants, filed in behind Blue One as he begged for more details. A few team members were checking their gear status, but most just stared up at the Nefarious Five in awe, eyes wider than the zeros that littered their skill scores.

  “Okay, so one more time: this guy is going to show up,” Mitch said, choosing his words carefully. “Right down here, in the Docks.”

  “You’ll know him,” Punch added. “He’ll be red.”

  “Right, good note, Punch,” Mitch nodded. “He’s red. So, we’re going to need you to stay down here on the main level. Distract him. Keep him busy.”

  “I don’t get it,” Blue Four said. “Are we supposed to shoot him?”

  “This is not a good plan,” Chu said, shaking her head.

  “And where are you guys going to be?” Blue Three asked, looking Dozer up and down, ogling her like a swimsuit centerfold hanging from a thumbtack. She snarled back at him, sending him recoiling into a pile of teenage nothing.

  “We’ll be in the rafters,” Fuse said, pointing up. “On the catwalk. We’ll ambush Red Code from up there.”

  “Wait. You’ll ambush … Red ... Code?” Blue Two stepped backwards as reality rushed over him. “You want us to fight Red Code? From the Red Battle? No, no, no. You didn’t say anything about Red Code.”

  “I said he was red,” Punch said with mock amazement. “How did you not pick up on that?”

  “You guys are going to do great,” Mitch said, flipping his admin panel open and switching the stealth function OFF, then ON, then OFF again. “I just unzipped our fly, he’ll be here soon. Remember—just buy us some time. We need him in the middle of the room. After that, we’ll take care of him.”

  “Wait,” Blue Five said. “What happens when you open fire after a few minutes? I mean, we’ll all still be down here.”

  The Nefarious Five stared back in silence. Dozer opened her mouth to speak, but Mitch cut her off with an extended hand. “I’m sure you will be,” Mitch said. “And we’ll be extra careful to not hit you when we start shooting.”

  “This will not be a problem,” Chu corrected. “You will be dead. Red Code will kill all of you like this.” She snapped her fingers in Blue Five’s face.

  Mitch stepped in front of the rest of his team. “Don’t listen to her, she’s just excited about this big opportunity for you to show us how hard you’ve all been working.”

  The Nefarious Five hit the staircase, beginning their long slog up. Their steps tinged as boots hit grooved metal, a chorus of steps, growing in intensity with each turn of the stairs. Mitch’s pulse raced as he gripped his backpack’s straps, the sweat sliding off his palms. This is it. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for. Red Code in a kill box. If you can pull this off, maybe you can save the game. Maybe you can save the only good thing you’ve got left.

  Reaching the top, Mitch brought up his list of new weapons, all begging to be chosen. His eyes flashed with daydreams of mayhem as he scanned the stats for each new item. The possibilities felt endless, but as he held each option, something didn’t feel right. After a full pass through, he ended up right back where he’d started: with his trusty Razor pulse rifle in his hands. The devil you know.

  The viewpoint from the catwalk was perfect—a complete picture of every corner, container, and all three doorways. If they could get Red Code anywhere near the center of the room, and if he didn’t look up before Nefarious began their attack, there was no way they could lose.

  The rest of Nefarious found their positions around each compass point on the railing, signaling their ready state with head nods and hand signals. Chu loaded her sniper rifle, finding the best angle of all, set back deep in the corner. Punch and Dozer were double fisting with pistols and heavy machine guns. Fuse had hidden a series of remote detonation devices below, the controls at his fingertips.

  It was time.

  A bright white flash illuminated the far left corner of the ground level. Through waves of digital green light, a form emerged, flexing his fingers in and out, stretching his neck backwards, flapping his wings. The green faded to red.

  “Okie dokie,” Red Code yelled through the room. “I had a whole gaggle of overachievers pop up on my old scopy scope who have to be around here somewhere.” He tapped at his wrist, checking his scanner with a huff. “Now isn’t this just typical? Still seeing five hits, but the levels are off. You’ve got to be kidding me ... I got all dressed up and arranged for a sitter and everything.” He smacked his wrist screen again with a loud exhale. “Ugh, don’t you just hate technology? It’s like, they update an app, and change everything that was good about the app in the first place? And then you have to learn it all over again?” He brought out a pair of pistols, spinning them across his index fingers. “Well, I might as well kill some people. Came all this way. Who’s up first?”

  Mitch gritted his teeth, waiting for Blue Fire’s first move. A slow realization fell over him—that maybe placing all their hope on a team that had never beat a level—not a single one—might not have been the smartest choice he’d made this week.

  C’mon guys, just live long enough to draw him out.

  Blue One, hidden behind a twice-stacked shipping crate, raised a silent hand from the corner. The team flew into motion. Blue Five duck walked, low and close to the floor, across to a shelter behind a small retaining wall on the far side of the room. Blue Four was busy arranging a series of grenades and trip wires, ready to lay down a layer of supporting blasts. Blue Three took a covered position in the middle, armed to the gills with two machine guns, one balanced in each hand. And Blue Two—God bless him—trekked silently to the stairs, reappearing in a second-floor window in the form of an extended sniper rifle barrel pointed right down at Red Code.

  Holy shit. These guys might have actually been paying attention.

>   “Hey coach,” Punch whispered into the comm link, pointing down Blue Fire team. “Nice work.”

  Mitch shrugged back, as surprised as anyone. After a few more hand signals, Blue Three screamed bloody murder, jumping up from his position, now standing tall and strong on two firmly planted feet, and fired.

  Bullets whizzed through the air as Blue Three stepped steadily forward, sending Red Code scurrying behind a shipping container angled up against the far wall. Blue Three dialed up the pressure, walking the floor for a better angle, keeping Red Code pinned down. The rest of the team joined in—Blue Four began chucking grenades, prepping trip wires around the enemy position. Blue Five lit a flamethrower and howled as he blew Red Code’s cover with a blanket of orange and red. Blue Two stayed silent in the window, waiting for his long shot, careful not to give away his position before necessary.

  Just like I taught them.

  Mitch activated his comm link and whispered into the mic. “Blue Fire team—good work. Now draw him out.”

  Blue Three ceased his fire, retreating to a corner. Red Code now had an out, but only into the middle of the room. Blue One and Blue Five kept their assault coming from the left and right, further inviting a move to the center. Blue Four lobbed a fresh volley of grenades directly behind the shipping crate, guiding Red Code right into their trap.

  “Ra cha cha, now we’re talking ... found me some worthy opponents,” Red Code yelled, scrambling out from behind a stack of barrels as grenades detonated behind him. “But I’m afraid I already know how this is going to turn out. Spoiler alert, suckas—it’s not looking good for you.”

  “Nefarious—do you have your shots?” Mitch asked over the comm. “Hold your fire until we’re all set.”

  “Not from my angle,” Punch whispered back. “Keep driving him out. Just a few more feet should do it.”