Proxima Riven:

by Harmon Cooper

  “I’m not your buddy, buster.”

  We both grin at each other. “Shit, where were we? Steam. We’re going to Steam to do a little poking around in Akrasia, specifically, Tent City. You game?”

  His Hugh Hefner robe and cute cuddly bunny slippers disappear, replaced by his trademark black ninja milspec outfit, only to be replaced again by a steam version of his ninja outfit, this one complete with a slick black jumpsuit and rusted gears where his nipples should be.

  “A jumpsuit?”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  His arm morphs into a mechanical number complete with a small, retractable Gatling gun jutting out of his forearm.

  “Still, a jumpsuit? And what’s with the gear nips?”

  “Am I not cool enough for you?”

  “No, my friend, I’m not cool enough for you.”

  I clap my hands together and a matching jumpsuit forms on my body. I go with a pair of big black stompers accented by chains with skull and crossbones on the upper shaft. From there I go with my classic Deckard trench coat, item 111, and you bet your ass I strap just about as many hidden guns, weapons and knives as I possibly can.

  Aiden shakes his head. “The weapons are cool. The boots are dumb.”

  “Really?”

  “Skull and crossbones? What are you auditioning to be a Reaper?”

  “Dammit, let’s just get there.”

  ~*~

  A spawning point floats into shape and both of us touch it. Vortex my vortex, our avatars take shape in the contraband shop. A gas lamp in the corner fights back the shadow. The sound of rats scurrying in the wall reaches my ears.

  “I was wondering how long it would take for you to return,” Joel says. The bandana-ed better half of Bjurstrom sits on a chair near the lamp, his silhouette towering over the contraband on the opposite side of the room. This place sells everything, from posters of Raquel Welch to artificial legs with hollowed out spaces to stash narcotics.

  He holds a stemless wine glass with a dark, oily liquid inside.

  “I told you we’d be back.” I lean my elbow against one of the shelves. “And here we are, as promised.”

  “I thought you’d be earlier.” He yawns, and takes a sip from his wineglass.

  Rocket: Hey there, Q Rito, I just logged in! My girlfriend and I are at the steam mech. She’s going to try some spells to fix, um, the spell I fudged up earlier.

  Me: Good to know.

  “Rocket is with Bjurstrom,” I tell Aiden and Joel, “to reverse engineer the rust spell.”

  “Excellent.” Joel doesn’t sound exactly like Mr. Burns, but he isn’t far off. “Then the three of us can scope out Tent City. I’d like you to get the feel of the land.”

  The Steam Faun materializes in front of Aiden in his trademark milspec vest and a hunter orange hat that reads CWO. “What?” he asks. “You thought I was going to let you do some reconnaissance alone?”

  “I figured you’d be sleeping,” I tell him.

  “Pfft! That’s what Somnium Skip Boxes are for.” With that, Doc moves to the door, his hooves clomping against the hardwood floor. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get a move on!”

  The air outside is frigid; the denizens of Akrasia are all tucked and ready to go nighty night, their designer prison garb hung and ready to be worn tomorrow. Everything’s in its rightful place, and while I don’t understand the appeal of visiting here for those who aren’t prisoners, I can report back that the place is at least quiet at night.

  That’s gotta count for something.

  Joel takes the lead, followed by Doc, Yours Truly, and MA. Not a lot of flash dancing from MA. His Gatling gun arm at the ready and his tried and true Slice Bang has appeared on his back, Aiden is all business and I pity the fool who casts shade in his direction. We take the next right and find ourselves smack dab in the middle of the drinking district.

  “Sixth Street,” Joel says, “named because, well, it is the sixth street.”

  “You know, Joel, you’d make a good tour guide if the Rebel Alliance thing doesn’t pan out.”

  He shakes his head. “Not gonna happen.”

  I give the place a quick looksee. Sure, there are few boozehounds milling about, but they’re all keeping to themselves, not making eye contact with nobody. The orderliness makes my trigger finger itch. It’s like something bad is about to happen here. It ain’t quite the Upsidedown that is The Loop, but there are some similarities.

  I glance back over my shoulder at Morning Assassin. Our eyes meet and he feels it too, I can tell.

  “Is this place always this spooky at night?” I ask Joel.

  “This isn’t the half of it,” he says under his breath. “Wait ‘til we get to Tent City.”

  “Stay frosty.” Doc’s bonesaw forms in his hands. If he’s feeling anything, he ain’t showing.

  “Up ahead,” Joel whispers.

  I catch what looks like a check point. There’s a single gas lamp hanging from a perch on the wall, moths buzzing around it. As we make our way closer, I get a sense of just how big the Steam Breeds are. They’re not Steam Enforcers, nothing like that, but that doesn’t mean these guys couldn’t move a mountain. Judging by the size of the open gate, these guys would make The Hulk look like a small fry. And that’s the other thing – the gate is wide open. These Steam Breeds can come and go as they please, but they don’t.

  Which gets me wondering. “Say, why won’t the big clunkers leave again?” I ask up the line. “I’m pretty sure someone already told me, but I forgot.”

  Joel stops and turns to me. “They feel safer here.”

  “But they could theoretically bring the wall down themselves, right?”

  He considers this for a moment. “Yes, I believe they could.”

  “But they don’t.”

  “Some people build walls to keep people in, some people build walls to keep people out.”

  “Which one are the Steam Breeds?” Doc asks.

  “Both, and they didn’t build the walls.”

  I shrug. Sometimes I get the feeling that Joel is just bullshitting us, and that this entire quest is to glorify Ray Steampunk and his wowsie-wow creation that is Steam. Old Quantum boils to the surface and I just about equip my Ruger Vaquero action revolver, fire off a shot, and ask for the Breedies just to come out already.

  I clench my fists instead. I’m surprised that I haven’t equipped any weapons, but really, I’m flanked by two of the most dangerous people to ever exist in a Proxima world. Safe company. Doc and Aiden will mow down anything that tries anything.

  “These are the tents,” Joel whispers.

  My BFG 9000, item 100, materializes in my hand as soon as I see a towering, eighteen wheeler of a man slowly let himself in one of the giant circus tents. For his wooly mammoth size, he’s surprisingly light on his feet, and as he slips in, he turns to me and his eyes, small circular portholes, flash red.

  I track him all the way in.

  “Damn these guys are big,” I say.

  “Told you so.” Joel takes one look at my gun and shakes his head. “And what part of ‘don’t shoot at them’ do you not understand?”

  “You never said that.”

  “It was implied.”

  “Everyone else has weapons.”

  “If everyone else sticks their thumb up their ass, will you do it too?”

  Aiden snickers.

  “Well?” Doc asks. “Answer the man’s question.”

  No time for a rebuttal. A Steam Breed steps before us, the gaslight from the entrance giving him just enough light to give us a good look at the big bastard. He’s all sinewy muscle stretched over mechanical parts. Just like the other one, his eyes are circular red portholes. He grimaces, exhales deeply, and steam sprays out of his nostrils. With that, he turns, showing us his back and broad shoulders. The upper part is covered in heavily scarred flesh; his lower half is a collection of winding and grinding gears.

  “Whew,” Joel says after he has moved into one of the ci
rcus tents, “glad he didn’t stomp us. Let’s keep moving.”

  Me: Why are we so scared of these big bozos again?

  Doc: I’m with you there. Your BFG would have given that mountainous misfit a new hole to shit from.

  Rocket: Speaking of new holes to shit from, good news, fellas!

  Me: What’s that?

  Rocket: My super sweet GF and I have cured Bjurstrom of his rust. He’s practically brand new!

  Me: what does this have to do with shitting?

  Doc: Good job, kid, we’re just finishing up here.

  We press forward, into the row between the tents. I hear a bed creak as a Steam Breed sits down in one of the tents. Other than that, the place is spookily silent, which isn’t helped by the fact that the two moons overhead are mere slivers tonight and a mist has settled over Akrasia.

  “The walls not far from here,” Joel says, “just up ahead.”

  “I still don’t get why we are running reconnaissance. I’m not trying to brag here – I have enough stuff in my list to bring this wall down right now. So why not? Let’s do it; rather than creep around like mice collecting data for no good reason.”

  No answer, not even from Doc, which only makes me feel even more annoyed. I’m ready for some kaboomski!

  Joel throws his hands out. “This is as far as we can go.”

  “What do you mean?” I slide past Doc and scoot up next to Bjurstrom’s bonkers operator.

  “This is what I wanted to show you.”

  Doc clicks on a flashlight revealing a series of tripwires that cover the space between the wall and the last Steam Breed tent. He arcs his light left, more tripwires, and right, even more. My BFG materializes again and I take a few steps closer to the first set of wires.

  “Damn, they’re tightly woven together.”

  “Exactly,” says Joel, “and if anything touches the wires … doneski.”

  “Now there’s a word I can appreciate.” I stand catch a glimpse from Aiden. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Long range missile attack?”

  I nod.

  “It’s not quite that easy,” Joel says. “Those tripwires operate on a fourth-dimensional scale.”

  “Please don’t tell me you are about to go into some string theory,” I say.

  “That’s exactly what it’s like. There are other tripwires connected to these wires that operate on a different plane of reality.”

  “We’re in a virtual entertainment dreamworld. We’re already on a different plane,” I remind him. “And what does the tripwire do exactly?”

  “Toss something out there and see for yourself.”

  I equip item 192, my frisbee, and give it a good whirl. Jillions of bolts of electricity lay waste to it as soon as it passes over the barrier.

  “Damn! That’s the kind of joltage that would give Edison an acute case of Tesla envy!”

  Doc says, “So we’ll need to get over that.”

  “Yes.” Joel nods ever-so-slowly, “and this is why I wanted to take you here. I didn’t want you to think this would be a walk in the park. I have a feeling if I told you the wall was protected by tripwire, your group would have strolled in here and had your asses handed to you. The only way to do this is to get in good with the Steam Breeds, and in your forms, that isn’t happening.”

  “Which is why Steampunk Santa had us outfitted for Steamsuits,” I say.

  “Bingo. It took you long enough to catch on.”

  Rocket: REAPERS have spawned at Bjurstrom! We’re taking heavy fire!

  Doc has already zipped away before I can get my finger up.

  “What’s wrong?” Aiden asks.

  “Rocket, Reapers, we need to go, now!”

  ~*~

  A broad with pigtails and a pair of knockers that you could land a helicopter on blasts one of the Reapers with what I would describe as a giant key weapon. She has the head of an over-sized, ornate Victorian key tucked under her arm, and she uses the unlocky-end to taze the hell out of Reapers spilling out of a yellow portal.

  “Get over here!” I shout as I go with Scorpion’s Spear, item 233, which tears into the front of the Reaper’s chest plate and tugs him over to me. Finish him! I greet Shao Khan’s inbred cousin with an uppercut that takes his head off.

  Bullets fly and explosions tear the trees from the ground. Reapers spill out of their portal, armed with a cartoonish amount of firepower. Laser blasts tear through the soil and shoot debris into the air.

  Doc has his bonesaw up and a smoky treat in his mouth; Aiden is flash dancing and back-knifing; Rocket is practically Doctor Strange with all the alchemical symbols twisting around his arms; the kid’s main squeeze is dosing the Reapers with a fine helping of magical fury from her Key gun; and I’ve gone with item 14, my trashcan lid shield, and Hackie set to ice mode.

  Feed me!

  “Yeah, I know, I know,” I tell my mutant hack as I pivot towards some cover.

  AA bar activated, I fire over my shoulder, freezing a Reaperette solid. Doc finishes the job and continues blasting metal unhappiness towards the Reaper’s general spawning point.

  Suddenly the soil shifts.

  I make it just in time to Bjurstrom the steam mech. The ground gives way as I scramble up his body.

  “What the hell!?” I shout as I see the ground caving in all around me. More Reapers, this bunch equipped with jetpacks, fly over us as the ground collapses.

  Doc fires up just as a tree breaks in two, falling directly between Rocket and him. Two Reapers scoop Rocket up by his arms, slap a collar around his neck and …

  They flashdance away.

  “ROCKET!” By this point, I’ve tossed my trashcan lid away and have gone with both hacks, firing willy-nilly towards the Reapers spilling out of their portal. “They have Rocket!”

  Item 567, my steam-powered jetpack, takes shape on my back and I break for the air. A Reaper comes at me and Hackie responds by filleting the wannabe Task Master.

  “Quantum!” I stop just in time for Aiden to save my ass from a collapsing tree. He too has a jetpack, as does Doc, who is now airborne, guns up and cutting down anything with an overabundance of muscles and a skull mask.

  Suddenly the Reapers start logging out or bangtailing it to their portal. I’m still trying to blast them and get a few too as I zip around and try to figure out what has happened to Rocket.

  Me: Kid! Rocket! Where the hell are you!?

  “They took Rocket!” I tell Aiden. I dive through the air towards one of the last Reapers standing, AA full swing, and he dematerializes milliseconds before I can nab him.

  “Doc, Aiden! Cuffs!” Doc, about eight feet away from Aiden, overhands his permalog cuffs and Morning Assassin, disappears.

  Morning Assassin reappears behind enemy lines, frantically trying to catch Reapers before they disappear or get to their portals.

  No such luck.

  The dust clears, the Reapers have disappeared, and Rocket has disappeared with them.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Shit!” I equip item 73, my pair of Halo MC6s and blast through a tree. Splinters and debris spray through the air; the tree creaks and falls. Once it’s smoldering and split in half, I point them at the two moons overhead. “Dammit, Steampunk! Why are you letting this happen! You could have stopped them! DAMMIT!”

  “They took him!” Rocket’s girlfriend stands below me in the newfound crater. She has her Victorian key gun at the ready, the end still charging. Her face is already wet with tears.

  I land in front of her. “Yeah, they took him, just like they’ve taken others! GODDAMN them!” I blast my MC6s into the rock wall. Roots and bits of pebble burst into the air.

  Doc lands behind me and places a much needed hand on my shoulder. “Cool it, Quantum, there’s nothing we can do for the kid from here. Put your shooters away.”

  “Just … those dirty rat bastards. Not Rocket. He didn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve it.” I clench my hands on the grips of my guns.

&nb
sp; “I’m logging out now,” Doc says hurriedly, “Hopefully I’ll be able to get a lead in the RW. Shit. And we have nobody in Baltimore right now either. I’ll arrange for Frances to go first thing in the morning. Maybe there’s a red eye, but I’m guessing it’s a bit too late.”

  “Send Sophia instead,” I grit.

  A grin twitches on Doc’s face. “Yeah, you’ve earned that. Good call, but there’s still the issue of Sophia being the one that is currently monitoring your human avatar and the one who will escort you to Colorado tomorrow. What? You thought we’d let you fly alone after your last breach of protocol in the airport?”

  “Frances can do that.”

  Doc nods. “She can. But does she want to?”

  “If she doesn’t, send her back to Baltimore. If she will, send Sophia.”

  “Deal.”

  Rocket’s girlfriend pushes past me. “What are you two sitting here going on about!?” she bellows. “Rocket, my dear Rudraksh, is gone!”

  “We’re aware of that, Lakshmi,” Doc tells her. He raises his finger to log out.

  Confusion paints across her face. “How do you know my name?”

  Doc jams his finger onto the logout button and is gone in a flash.

  “How does he know my name?” she asks. “My handle is Geariya.”

  I look to Aiden, who has begun picking through the rubble covering Bjurstrom. Even if he wasn’t wearing a mask, the look on Morning Assassin’s face would be indecipherable. It reminds me, very briefly, the difference between our realms of existence and our relationships with Rocket.

  The kid has definitely grown on me and hell, with the amount of people I have either against me, begrudgingly working with me, or generally peeved off that I continue to exist, it ain’t too shabby to have a fan.

  “Dammit,” I say as I turn away from his bosomy girlfriend. I’ve seen a lot in Steam when it comes to ridiculous costumes, but this one has taken it to a whole new level. And now ain’t the time to be staring at cha-chas.

  With nothing to say for once, I move to Aiden and help him move some of the smaller hunks of stone that cover Bjurstrom’s hood. I suppose it’s his hood. I really have no idea where the rogue steam mech’s engine is, nor how it operates. I’m sure there’s some steam involved, which gets me, again, thinking about Ray Steampunk and how he is a good-for-nothing son of a bitch for letting the Reapers take Rocket.