by Domino Finn
I decided it best to get out of there. This was a moment of defeat. I wasn't up for public appearances. I picked my way through the raucous crowd, dejected at the state of affairs and my rapidly dwindling options.
Today had started out so promising. Well, except for the dying-in-a-car-accident part. But after that, today had started out so promising. I'd been getting the hang of Haven. Leveling and looting like a pro. But somewhere along the ride the wheels had shaken off the axles. Everything good around me was burdened with baggage. Friends. Saints. Even my adventuring successes with the pagans. This fantastical afterlife was smacking into hard, inevitable reality.
"That was amazing!" beamed Kyle as he rushed to my side. I was surprised to see him here.
"You caught the duel?"
"Bro, I know you said to do my shopping first thing, but when you hear your roommate's taking on Izzy the Master Duelist, you drop everything except the popcorn and watch."
"I suppose." I continued scuttling away from the hungry eyes of the people. "Sorry for coming up short."
"Is that what you think happened?" Kyle waved at the groups of players following us through the streets. "Don't you get it, man? Izzy's never lost a duel before. She's never been held to a draw. This is the very first time she ever fought where she didn't outright win."
"I died first."
"Doesn't matter. Against her, a draw is just as good as a victory. It's something the people have never seen. That shield was amazing."
I managed a smile. "It kinda was. You should've seen her face when her ice lightning bounced."
"Must've been something."
"It's not just frost mages, either. I deflected a legit fireball back at a goblin warlock with this thing."
We laughed and I held my head a little higher as we walked. I wasn't really into the groupies that trailed us like hungry puppies, but I had to admit Kyle's enthusiasm was infectious.
Until that moment, I hadn't decided what to do with one notable piece of loot. It was cool. Had to be worth a lot. But it didn't really suit me. I pulled up my inventory and offered Kyle the mirror shield.
He stopped cold in the street, staring at the trade notification in shock.
I shrugged. "I'm not really a shield kind of guy. I prefer dramatically leaping from the path of danger. And I wanna apologize for being so hard on you before."
Kyle frowned. "I can't take your shield, Talon."
"Seriously, it's yours. Hunkering down for a big hit isn't my idea of a good time. We're party members. I need you to be protected. Besides, it's my fault the pagans are on our asses anyway."
His eyes were hungry, but I could tell he didn't want charity. That wasn't what this was.
"Look, Kyle, as far as I'm concerned, you earned this shield. You're putting a lot of work into this. I wouldn't be where I am without you." I stopped short of telling him: fuckup or not, I appreciated his friendship.
Kyle took the shield and gaped at the reflective surface. It had a rounded shape with a flat top and bottom. It made for a good crossbow perch, discounting the fact that it reflected light and attracted attention. I supposed some things were worth magic deflection.
"This is by far the coolest gear I've ever owned," he said. "Thanks, Talon."
"Don't mention it."
For a second I was worried the conversation was about to get sappy. Luckily we lived in a terrifying fantasy world. A piercing screech echoed through the town. It was a long, howling cry that demanded the attention of anyone in earshot. Hundreds of eyes shot upward to the perfectly cerulean sky. It was a beautiful cloudless day.
A serpentine streak of black blemished the firmament like a rivulet of oil. It snaked through the sky high above town leaving a noxious trail of smoke. A flying creature with a wingspan three times the length of its body.
"Dragon!" yelled the people.
A wave of fright struck me as the beast swooped toward Stronghold, growing in scale as it neared. A black dragon. Its head was all pointed horns and chomping teeth. The rest of him writhed behind like a snake with four muscled legs that ended in razor-sharp claws. The beast was the length of a school bus, but much slimmer. A sleek thing. Speed and power. It roared and a dreaded shadow fell over us.
"I thought you said dragons were extinct."
"They are," he assured me as his eyes bulged.
My face displayed obvious disagreement.
"Okay," he hedged. "Maybe not extinct. Just asleep... Hidden. Banished!"
"You keep saying words but I don't think you know what they mean."
We ducked as the dragon flew over us. Massive wings buffeted sheets of air downward.
I looked at him pointedly. "Still think dragons are lame?"
He didn't answer.
I tried to pull my spear from my inventory but I couldn't. Weapons were banned in Stronghold.
"It can't actually attack in town," I said. "Can it?"
In response, the beast stretched its mouth agape. A stream of hissing venom spurted out like from a fire hose, blanketing the park grounds of the Foot. The acidic substance boiled and smoked, melting anything it touched.
Kyle pulled his mirror shield to his face. "What do we do?"
I surveyed the screaming hordes of residents. Most of them were scurrying home. That made a good deal of sense. Zoning into safe quarters kept them out of the fight. I wondered who that left for defense.
City Alert:
A dragon flies above!
Stronghold is under threat. All residents may engage in combat. While within the walls, all watchman and residents are immune to friendly fire.
Oh, man. This wasn't good. I desperately scoured my inventory for something that would help.
My spear blinked into my hands. Just as I was worrying that Kyle and I were in this alone, the city watch flooded the streets.
Most of them were lightly armed. Swords and slings and other unimpressive weapons. I wasn't sure they were up for this. Breaking up drunken arguments was a far cry from slaying dragons. Then again, it was possible Stronghold guards had unbelievable bonuses when defending the city.
Rocks and arrows volleyed into the sky. A few patriotic players joined the fray. It was a hasty response, haphazard and improvised, but it was a response. More guards and players spilled into the streets and attacked with anything they had.
The weak projectiles glanced off the dragon's scales. Even the occasional magic didn't harm it. The beast screeched again. Then, as if taunting the very institution of Stronghold, the dragon beat his wings and whirled to the top of Dragonperch. He belched acid onto the statue of Magnus Dragonrider: the hero on the tower, holding the dragonspear triumphantly to the heavens. The old stone steamed and buckled. It crumbled under the boiling substance. The black dragon landed with a crash beside it, bathing in its own sticky destruction.
"Where are the saints and angels?" I asked.
Kyle shook his head. "Saints don't engage in combat and angels only go after players. Angels are balancers. They don't deal with in-game threats."
More watchmen hurried past us in orderly units. Centurions with gleaming helmets and red body shields led the charge. These troops were equipped with heavy crossbows. A follow-up unit pushed a ballista on wheels over the cobblestones. A set of long steel spikes were ready for loading. The army of Stronghold was getting serious.
Ding!
I almost ignored the inbox notification outright. Then an uneasy feeling seized my stomach. With nothing but dread, I checked the message.
Talon,
I believe you have your distraction.
- Luc1f3r
My breath caught in my throat. My eyes ran over the destruction. The crumbling statue. The bubbling land. The immolated players in the Foot.
All this was for me.
"Talon, what should we do?" asked Kyle.
I groaned. I didn't have time for a crisis of conscience. This wasn't my doing. Those players weren't dead-dead. And I wasn't getting anywhere with Izzy or tech support.
Lucifer's plan was my only hope.
"Get to the shops," I said. "Outfit yourself as best you can. Pick up extra potions for me." I tossed him some silver.
"I mean about the dragon."
"We can't do anything about the dragon until you get your glasswork supplies."
"Okay but what are we gonna—"
I grabbed his shoulders to focus him. "Don't worry about it. The dragon's too strong and the city watch is on it. Just get your gear and get back home. I'll meet you when I'm done."
Understanding crept into Kyle's face. He knew I was going for the Pantheon. I waved him off before he offered to help.
"Get the gear," I repeated. "Before the shops turn to dust."
He nodded and rushed off in a sprint.
I scanned the area. The streets were a riotous flurry, but none of the attention was focused on me. Flavor of the minute was right. My new fan club had bigger things to worry about now. That left me with plenty of privacy to operate.
The dragon was conveniently terrorizing the outskirts of Oldtown. The neighborhood was empty and remote, against the southwestern wall of the city. I raced north across the river, toward the Forum. Centurions in a rush to defend the city passed me without a second glance. The fancy shopping district was mostly abandoned. I approached the Pantheon, amazed at the quiet that had grown over the bustling capitol. I had to hand it to Lucifer. Dude knew how to make a distraction.
The facade of the Pantheon was a portico of Corinthian columns. Six freestanding pillars lined the walkway toward that entrance. Four golden angels towered high above, two still absent. The seventh golden angel perched on the pointed crest of the portico itself, hands thrust heavenward.
I shuddered as I passed beneath the celestial protectors of Stronghold. Kyle's assurance that the angels would remain inert didn't comfort me. They were activated by rogue players bent on unbalancing the game. I was merely seeking information. Was that enough to sign my death warrant?
I pulled the guide rune from my inventory. The yellow gemstone gleamed in the sunlight. The metal cross inlaid in the face held a dull shine.
"If you're gonna do anything," I said, "now's the time."
A digital map flickered into life a few feet ahead of me. It was a 3D layout of the Pantheon, horizontally overlaying the ground at an offset from my position. As I moved, it moved with me, and so did a blue "You Are Here" dot within the map itself. A green line extended from that position and traced the path I should take.
"Slick."
I followed the guide line. It had me step between the second and third columns and approach a side door. An internal lock mechanism clicked when I held the guide rune close. I pushed in with nervous anticipation.
The portico was a squared building with several subrooms, but it was just the welcoming face of the Pantheon. The heart of the structure was the round room under the dome, in the back. That's where the green line was taking me. First, however, I had to jump through hoops.
As directed, I took a pit stop behind a central indoor column. Once in place, a pair of centurions marched into view from the back hall. They briskly paced the room and exited through the main open doorway, where several other guards were posted.
The guide rune wasn't just a map and a key. It showed a live play-by-play of active security. Not only were the guard positions noted on the map with red dots, but the green guide line adjusted to roving threats. This thing had taken some serious programming.
I continued to a small staircase along the wall that led to a balcony. Another door lock clicked open and I pressed into a private chamber. A monk's study. Parchment was laid out and scripted in beautiful cursive. Colorful illustrations ornamented the margins. The title read: Haven Terms of Service 1.0.
The finalized release-day terms of service. Haven was nearing its public launch. I couldn't be sure of the timetable, but I certainly hadn't seen a lot of bugs. This game was ready for prime time.
The guide stone flared. I wanted to stop and look around but time was short. I followed the guide line to the back of the room, frowning at the bookcase inset in the wall. Tomes lined the shelves. A Brief History of the Nine. The Cleansing of the Old Gods. The Scourge and the Crusades. I stared stupidly at the library until it clicked, just like the locks on the other doors.
I felt around the backing of the bookcase until I brushed against a secret handle. I opened the door into the inner Pantheon with a smile and stepped inside.
Everything went black.
0310 Left 4 Dead
For a second, I thought the whole plan had gone to hell. I couldn't move. I couldn't see anything. Not the guide rune map. Not even my body.
Then I realized I was just streaming into a new zone. The inner sanctum came into view. I was in a separate space. A separate level.
The rotunda was a huge circular room. Marble tiles with intricate runes spanned the floor. Columns and alcoves and statues hemmed the wall. At the far end of the circle was a small altar.
I was above it all on a balcony that spanned the near half of the circular room. I'd need to go downstairs to reach the altar.
Above my head was a giant dome of squared blocks—impressive in size, beautiful in precision. The dome culminated in a round opening. The oculus. A thick shaft of sunlight beamed from the sky to the altar below. Ones and zeroes buzzed through the electrified energy.
The guide stone had led me true. I was here and, thankfully, the rotunda was empty.
I didn't need a green line on a map to know the altar was my destination. I descended the marble staircase against the wall and followed its curvature to the raised platform. I stepped lightly to the altar. A charged current thrummed over my body.
The table was set with a rich white cloth. Several computer terminals sat on top. This was Stronghold's control room, the Oculus, with access to all the secrets of Haven. I couldn't help but stare in reverent silence.
The guide rune flared again. The digital map zoomed in on the terminal. An open slot on the holographic display prompted me.
The real thing had the same slot on an elongated computer console. There were a few machines, actually. Slick white, with the Apple logo. Forbidden fruit. I considered the various terminals and monitors. One of them was labeled "Resident Records."
That was the one. The flat screen was running an old-school screensaver of a scrolling star field. I wiggled the mouse and was presented with a database and a search bar. I typed out a name.
SEARCH: Talon
My file immediately came up. My picture, occupation, signed documents. The record was separated into several tabs, some concerning my previous life and some concerning my new one. The summary page showed a flag on my account. Capital red letters read: NOT YET DECEASED.
I went numb with shell shock. My knees almost gave out. I couldn't believe it—Lucifer was right. I mean, I'd known something was off. Ever since I spawned in Haven I'd been plagued by unsettling urgency. But this truth was both glorious and terrible.
The possible implications flitted through my head. I was badly injured. In a hospital or convalescent home. In a coma, or paralyzed as Lash had been. Dying, but not dead.
But what if I wasn't beyond saving? What if I was stuck in this simulation while my body was fighting? Recovering? I had to believe it was still possible to go back home.
I typed a new name into the prompt.
SEARCH: Derek Lonnerman
The only result was my file again. He was listed as a living relative. In a known-associations section. Haven players were listed as well. Kyle, Lash, Izzy. I wondered what triggered inclusion in the list. Dune wasn't on it. Lucifer, thankfully, wasn't either. I bit my lip and mulled over looking through other people's personal data. I knew I didn't have the right, but I couldn't think of a better option. I clicked through to Izzy's file.
She'd been uploaded to Haven almost eight months ago. That was a hella long closed beta period, even if it was almost over. I confirmed she was deceased, just to make sure we
weren't in the middle of some giant Matrix-like conspiracy. Nope. We weren't batteries for spider robots. Her file said she was a twenty-two-year-old living with her father. Isabel Sakata had swallowed a whole package of cold medicine.
I cursed and looked away, certain I'd crossed a line and violated her privacy. Izzy had killed herself. That nugget of information explained a lot about her. Doing something like that, she couldn't have been a happy person. Even if Haven was everything she wanted it to be, I doubted it could cure her, no matter how much magic was in the world.
Gritting my teeth, I pressed onward to her benefits page. She was on the Everchat white list. The bitch wasn't bluffing. She had the feature. And she probably didn't even use it. If her aim was to escape her old life, she wouldn't likely reconnect with it.
I wondered if I could add myself to the white list. I went to the same section in my file and tried a quick edit. No go. The document was read-only.
The guide stone flickered. The display of the console slot urgently blinked.
The bit key. That would give me write access to the data.
I pulled the gold cartridge from my inventory. It sparkled with a royal glimmer. I slipped it into the slot and pressed down.
The terminal screen blinked and went black. Digitized static froze across the display. I furrowed my brow. At first I thought something had gone horribly wrong. Then I pulled the cartridge out, gave it two sharp blows to clear away dust, and re-inserted it. The screen flashed white and gave me a command list. I was in.
I smiled and went through the feature list until I found Everchat. From what I could tell, at least thirty players across Haven were white-listed. I added myself. Make that thirty-one.