by Domino Finn
Ding!
I got an email. Everchat welcome information. It said I could only use the feature in private zones like my home or media rooms. It said I needed to verify a connection request with a contact before placing a call. Halfway through reading the message, the guide rune I had placed on the altar thrummed ominously.
I closed the menu and looked around. I was still alone. The yellow gemstone bounced and hit the floor. I leaned down to get it but it clattered a few feet farther. The name above the item glitched out. It read [Gu1d3 Rune] but the letters flickered like a countdown timer. The stone bounced and renamed itself to [Recall Rune]. It emitted a large pulse like a sound wave and momentarily covered the area in light.
When it cleared away, I was no longer alone in the rotunda.
0320 Bad Company
The room was quiet again. The rattling stone on the floor had settled.
"What the hell is this?" I asked.
The silver runes on Lucifer's black robes sparkled in the focused beam of electrified light. Ironically, the sunlight of the open dome forced his hooded face into deeper shadow.
"This is the plan, Talon. You did well."
I stared dumbly as Lucifer approached the Oculus console. "The guide rune was a hacked recall rune. It teleported you right to me." Once again I tried to examine his level and class info, but it wouldn't appear. "I thought you said you couldn't enter town."
He went to work at the terminal. "I can't without them noticing. We don't have a lot of time."
His hands were a blur on the keyboard. Various windows and documents cycled frenetically on the flat screen. I was afraid to see what he was doing and unsure I'd even be able to tell if I looked.
"This is what the Fallen Angels were attempting during the last raid. You wanted access to the Pantheon."
His head remained fixed on the monitor. "This is the beating heart of Stronghold, one of nine sainted cities that enforce order in Haven. Access to the Oculus is necessary to effect real change."
"But your men were all killed."
"They were flagged, as I am. I'd thought them anonymous but the saints knew exactly who they were. The Fallen Angels were lured into an ambush and slaughtered."
I worked my jaw. "You used me to get you in. A new player. One who didn't arouse suspicion."
His frantic keystrokes paused and he turned to face me. "Don't make out like you weren't a willing participant. The white robes are the ones who lied to you, not me. Don't lose sight of that."
I didn't immediately snap back this time. My resident record had confirmed I was still alive. I couldn't deny I had a bone to pick with Saint Peter. "How is it you know all this? That you can do the things you do? After the Fallen Angels were killed, the saints wiped the server to protect the Oculus, but you're here a day later."
He turned back to the console. "I can't be wiped."
"How's that possible?"
"You've probably heard about the security of the system. The encryption of our data. Triply redundant, cycling from server to server in continuous obfuscation."
"Yeah. It's what makes us supposedly impossible to delete. Barring interference from the angels."
"The angels are the only exception precisely because they're a facet of the security system. A policing countermeasure. But they're bound by strict rules. The saints can't activate them manually. It's why we should be safe enough for now. But consider what you know about data resets."
I twisted my lips and followed the thought process aloud. "I can understand resetting the game state—the world—but if player identifying data is so secure then how the hell can they wipe it?"
"Bingo. It shouldn't be possible, but it is. It's a special condition of the beta. Kablammy can't rightly give test participants a permanent leg up before Haven launches. Right now, everyone's flagged for temporary progression."
"Except you," I noted.
Lucifer ignored the comment. "Your skills, your level, your experience—everything you've worked for—aren't being written to your redundant profile. All data is being rerouted to a special closed server. A beta server. The encryption is still pretty hairy, of course. I doubt they're able to alter it piecemeal. But nothing stops them from doing a full wipe. The saints can't delete you but they can defeat you. Take away everything you've gained. Everything you've worked for."
It sounded like an insidious plot. On the other hand, it kinda sounded like a harmless beta test.
"Nobody ever said wipes were awesome," I pointed out. "But it's what we signed up for. Aren't wipes a necessary part of testing the game?"
Lucifer smiled. "There's that word again. Game. They call this a digital reality, do they not? Ones and zeroes make up everything we are. Does that sound like a game to you? You're shutting your eyes and believing the illusion."
I snorted. I understood his point, but he was being pedantic about semantics. Once again, the devil in him reared his head.
"So that's the difference between you and everyone else?" I asked. "Manipulation of the temp progression flag."
"Hardly," he said, confirming my suspicions. "That's one difference but there are many more beta flags. I've hacked other modules of the runtime too. Case in point, it's time for you to receive my gifts."
The head of the resistance typed in a few commands and a thrum of energy overtook me. I stumbled in surprise but it was over before it started. I looked around warily. Checked my character status. I was fine. I thought I was. But something felt... different.
"What did you do?"
"I gave you a taste of freedom, Talon. You must earn the rest."
A few more keystrokes resulted in a series of beeps and a loud unclicking of bolts. Lucifer smiled and twirled around, moving to the alcove behind the altar. A shelf built into the rotunda wall bore a few ornamental statuettes. Front and center was a large object covered in a veil. Lucifer pinched the stitched cloth and flung it away, revealing an ornate golden box topped with a cross.
"The tabernacle," he said in awe.
The square box had two golden doors with carved images of valiant knights. Lucifer pulled them open slowly, revealing them to be six inches thick with retracted titanium crossbars. A digital display on the safe read "Unlocked."
Inside was a single relic. A large rough-hewn rock that sparkled dirty red. A ruby painted with blood.
"Uh, Lucifer, what—"
"The Eye of Orik," he said. "One of nine relics the white robes used to found the great cities of Haven."
I recalled my very limited knowledge of Haven world history as explained by my frat-boy roommate. Lucifer had filled in enough blanks for me to get the picture. Nine relics. Nine great cities. The people ended the vicious rule of the pagans by founding cities with appropriated holy treasures. The Eye of Orik had to be one such relic. A symbol of Stronghold's power over the wild.
Except Haven was an MMORPG. Here, unlike the real world, relics had more power than mere symbolism.
"Hold up," I said. "We didn't agree to this."
"Did we need to? This is about ending oppression. Ripping away the bit and blinders and allowing natural order to rise in its place."
My face tightened in dread. "How does stealing treasure end oppression?"
"This isn't loot, Talon."
"I just mean it seems important to Stronghold. If you take it, what'll happen to the people living here?"
Lucifer smiled. "The beauty of natural order is the chaos inherent." He tucked the artifact into his inventory and strolled away triumphantly. The tabernacle was left open and violated.
"I think you should put that back," I said firmly.
Lucifer's smile waned. He considered me as if for the first time. "Resistance doesn't come with a road map, Talon. I understand your apprehension, but trust me. I take care of mine."
"I'm not one of your Fallen Angels."
"That's because you haven't proven yourself yet. But you can be on my side. If you become my apostle, I will welcome you with arms outstretched."
He moved quicker than I thought possible. A blade flashed and bit deep into my forearm. I fell away in shock. A wave of pain, bright and harrowing, flexed through my arm.
Real. Actual. Pain.
I growled and hunched over, cradling my wound.
"One of my gifts," he said slyly. "You wish to continue this charade and play a grand MMO? Well, I've disabled your pain inhibitors and gore filters. Even though this is a digital environment, your brain perceives threats the same as it would in the real world." He leaned closer. "Taking damage hurts. How's that for a role-playing game?"
I blinked through the searing heat running up my arm. It was a damned superficial wound as far as MMOs went—a mere 6 points of damage—but the gash in my arm was deep. Blood oozed from exposed muscle. It fucking hurt.
I gritted my teeth. Various plays raced through my head, but they all ended in defeat. I wasn't sure I could fight him. I didn't even know what level he was, but he'd avoided the wipe. Multiple wipes, for all I knew. Lucifer was bound to be the most powerful player in the world right now.
The entire room tinted red. Chirps blared through invisible speakers. Bip, bip! Bip, bip! Lucifer and I broke away from the standoff and scanned our surroundings.
"They've isolated me," he said. "We need to get out of here."
His eyes landed on the gold cartridge plugged into the terminal. He moved for it.
I grunted. Maybe I couldn't fight him, but I wasn't slow on my feet. I instinctually triggered dash. I streaked across the marble floor and beat him to the Oculus. I yanked the bit key from the slot and rolled away as Lucifer hit the altar.
"That's mine!" he roared.
"Give me the Eye," I said. "I'll trade it for the Eye."
Lucifer's lips curled into a sneer. "My enemies don't live very long, Talon." His long staff appeared in his grip. It was a length of black wood with a fork at the top. A blue crystal was set between the Y branches.
I armed my spear and backed away slowly.
The main rotunda doors slammed open. Muffled shouts came from the plane of white light beyond. Boots and sandals shook the marble floor as figures faded into place. Lucifer scowled and swapped his staff for the recall rune.
"This isn't over," he snarled. Then he vanished in a brilliant flash of white.
All I could do was dive behind the altar. Soldiers spilled into the room and fanned out. The alarm still blared. The room was still tinted red. As I hunched low, I glanced up at the sky through the open oculus. Freedom seemed so close.
"Where are the intruders?" called out a centurion.
"Impossible!" cried another. "The devil is no longer in Stronghold."
They stuttered in place, sure they had backed us into a corner but shocked they had lost us.
A centurion ordered a watchman to summon the saints. Some of the guards filed out, grumbling. I peeked at them from behind the personnel terminal. Staying low, I reached a hand up and typed in the search bar.
SEARCH: Lucifer
No matches found.
I grimaced. The centurions ordered the entire Pantheon secured. The heavily armored lieutenants went back through the door, leaving me with lower-level city watchmen as they established a perimeter. I considered bolting right then and there but tried the console again. This time I used the numeric spelling.
SEARCH: Luc1f3r
A file came up with a match for a known alias. The resident was a Lucille Black, an eight-year-old girl who had died of cancer. At first I thought it was a bad match, but evidence started to line up. She'd been in Haven for over five months. Lots of her info was redacted. There was a warrant out for her deletion. And her real name explained both her handle and her penchant for goth dress.
"The tabernacle!" cried a watchman. Sandals scuffed toward the altar.
Shit. I didn't have the luxury of hiding anymore. I stood and bolted for the staircase on the wall of the rotunda. The guards yelled in alarm and made a beeline for me. For soldiers, they were pretty fast. At higher levels my scouting advantages might have overtaken them, but I simply wasn't good enough yet. As they converged on me, I triggered dash and skidded to the steps. I used vault for a head start and ran up the marble handrail. Stones from slings flew my way but crashed behind me.
In response to their cries, centurions zoned into the rotunda again. The search of the Pantheon was called off in favor of giving chase. I raced to the top of the mezzanine, realizing I'd forgotten one last thing.
While still in the private rotunda level, I accessed my Everchat menu. It was unlocked here. I quickly requested a chat contact and filled out Derek Lonnerman. Just before I slipped through the door to the study, I clicked send.
Back in the monk's chamber, I knew I only had moments before the guards figured out how to work the secret entrance. If I was lucky. Instead of risking my way through the portico downstairs, I wedged open a stained glass window and jumped from the second story to the road outside. I landed in a controlled roll, pain arcing through my shoulder like lightning, and took off down the street.
0330 Crackdown
Disappearing in the chaos was easy. At first I was surprised there were so many people in the streets, but a notification explained it.
City Alert:
The dragon has fled!
Stronghold is safe. Engaging in combat is once again prohibited.
I supposed Lucifer and his black dragon were miles away by now. That left me in the thick of it, in possession of an illegal bit key. Grounds for deletion on sight.
I clutched my bleeding arm and sprinted past the Pantheon, peeking at the golden angels above. They watched me with the omnipresence of statues, but they didn't turn their heads. They didn't leap from their perches and take flight against me. Two of them were still missing, but those were hunting someone else.
I pressed forward into the main Forum thoroughfare. Watchmen lined the streets so I stayed in the thick of the crowd. Ahead, players were complaining. Most of the shops were barricaded.
I groaned in annoyance. I really wanted a healing potion right now.
City Alert:
The saints have evoked security procedures!
Effective immediately, Stronghold is under curfew. All residents are ordered off the streets. Return to your homes and await interview.
I froze, reading the message again. The shops wouldn't be reopening. The city was on lockdown. A commotion swept through the crowd. More complaints.
"Interview?" cried a man. "What kind of crap is that?"
"I have a quest to complete," said someone else.
The townspeople were upset. To them, the curfew was a result of the black dragon attack. With that threat gone, all they cared about was getting back to business. But I knew the truth about the curfew. It was me the city watch was looking for. It was me they wanted to interview.
It was curious that I hadn't received any direct messages about the breach. My only conclusion was that I was still anonymous. Lucifer's stranger's cowl really was protecting me. Maybe I could make a clean getaway.
I hurried through the unrest. It was difficult to weave through the excited crowd but the commotion served my purposes. The city watch did what they could, funneling the mass of players southward, down the Forum road through the marketplace. All the little alleys between buildings were blocked with soldiers. As I pushed closer to the main exit, I saw why.
The city watch had erected a checkpoint. Every single resident was being forced to clear the area, but not before they were vetted. Anyone coming from the Pantheon would be forced to use this route. With the bit key in my inventory, I couldn't afford to be stopped by Stronghold officials.
I also couldn't fight. No combat in town. No ability to damage the guards even if I could. Most of the watch wasn't heavily equipped, but they'd wipe the floor with me. I had to get out another way.
I took my cue from the vociferous pack around me.
"A checkp
oint?" I shouted. "This is gonna take forever!"
The bottlenecked crowd grunted in agreement. Players pushed and shoved.
"Let us use the shops!" I demanded. "My friend died in that black dragon attack. The least you could do is treat me with respect!"
Hoots and hollers joined my demands. A few brash players made appeals of their own. Some asked for free loot or experience for helping defend the town. Others just wanted to get the hell out of the pack-jam. The city watch scanned the crowd for dissidents. That was my opening.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and chanted. "Let us out! Let us out!"
It caught on like wildfire. After the third sentence, complete strangers were reciting along. After the fifth, the entire Forum added their voice. The tumultuous mass spoke as a unified entity, pressing against the fumbling city watch. One of the guards drew a club and swatted an unruly resident.
Then all hell broke loose.
The people surged ahead. Combat wasn't possible, but sheer presence was. The outnumbered guards couldn't stop the wall of players shoving them. The city watch hurried away as their tight checkpoint burst like a failing dam. In seconds the Forum was an absolute madhouse. I spilled out behind a crew of large artisans, no one the wiser.
Amidst the confusion, I made for the noob shops lining the river. Front Street was packed with wild activity. Players scrambled through the Foot, avoiding guards. The watch blew whistles to summon backup, doing anything to contain this before it turned into a riot. I broke away from the horde and slipped to the doorstep of the local apothecary.
I leaned into the locked door and groaned in defeat. Even the noob shops were all shuttered. Apparently NPC shopkeepers were more cooperative about curfews than players were. I slid to a sitting position against the wall and pressed tightly against my wound. The bleeding had slowed. The pressure helped mask the pain, but it was still there, underneath. I grimaced and felt like the worst MMO player ever. Subdued by a cut.