Reternity Online : Rescue Quest : DIRECTOR'S CUT : a LitRPG Epic

by Baron Sord

  “You think?” I was still pissed about that. I considered myself lucky I hadn’t pissed my loincloth. I had really thought I was going to die. “Payback’s a bitch, bro. Now we’re even.”

  He smirked.

  Layna laughed at both of us. “Were you two always like this?”

  “Worse,” Jason said.

  “Would you like a demonstration?” I said to Layna without thinking, immediately regretting it. I didn’t want to be friendly with her. Nice and polite, but not friendly.

  She smiled back, as gorgeous as ever.

  I hated that smile. Fake, fake, fake. I tried not to scowl. It would take some effort to be nice and polite without being rude. No problem. I’d build that wall one brick at a time.

  “So,” Jason said to me. “You’re here for a reason, Low.”

  Emily.

  “Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard.

  “Would you like to see her?”

  “She’s here?” I nearly jumped out of my sandals with new hope.

  “Yes and no,” Jason sighed. “It’s easier if I show you.”

  —: o o o :—

  Seeing Emily lying on a cold slab of white-and-black checkered marble punched me in the heart. A long white gown covered her from neck to toe and draped over the sides of the marble altar.

  “Is she…” I couldn’t say it. “Is she dead?”

  “No,” Jason said softly. “Logged out.”

  I stepped onto the marble platform and leaned over Emily’s body. She didn’t look like she was sleeping to me. I lowered my ear to her mouth. No breathing. Her skin was cool to the touch. “She’s dead, Jason.” I fought back tears.

  He shook his head, “No. She’s just logged out.”

  “Can we wake her up?” I desperately hoped we could. It would make all this go away. I’d do anything to get my sister back.

  “Sadly, no,” Jason sighed. “This is just Emily’s avatar. The one she uses when we hang out here in RO. It’s not really her. Unless she logs into her character, there’s nothing there.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is her body here? Doesn’t it disappear from the game when you log out?”

  “Nope,” Jason said. “It stays in a sort of suspended animation. Inert, but still there. Cuts down on processing power for the system.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to disappear it?” I was trying to make sense of this because my senses were telling me I was seeing my sister’s dead body.

  Ty said, “RO Designers did it on purpose. Get you hooked on the game, ya know? Unless you crazy, you ain’t leaving no character you spent 1000 hours leveling up lyin’ around to get ganked. You wanna get your ass back in-game damn quick.”

  “That’s evil,” I said. “And genius at the same time. Whose brilliant idea was that?”

  Jason said, “Steve Brin, the creator of Reternity Online. He’s a legend in the world of Full Immersion VR, a true pioneer. That’s why people build houses and strongholds in RO. To keep themselves safe at night or whenever they’re logged out.”

  “He right,” Ty said. “People don’t wanna logout no more’n they have to.”

  “And the first one’s free,” I scowled sarcastically. “Get everybody hooked on that sweet, sweet Reternity. This Steve Brin douche and all his butt-buddy douches at NeuraSoft are nothing more than high-tech drug dealers.” I shook my head. “And people thought the crystal meth epidemic in the 2020s was bad? If I ever meet this Steve Brin jackass in a crowded bar, I’ll tear his throat out with my own teeth.” I was tempted to yell at Jason right here and now for being hooked on the silicone tit that got Emily into this mess in the first place. Wasn’t Skype3D good enough when you wanted to chat with your sister? I thought it was.

  Jason said, “Brin hangs out in the Skyland Isles quite often. He’s usually in one of the taverns or brothels when he’s here. The Horse’s Head, The Pit, The Stiff Stag, those places.”

  “Show me the way,” I growled, “and I’ll beat the fuck out of him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Jason chuckled. “His character level is Infinity.”

  “Infinity?”

  “Yup.”

  “Figures. Enough about him. What do we do about Emily?” I glanced between Jason, Ty, Qoorie, and Layna. Jason had said we needed all the help we could get. Now I was looking at Layna with total suspicion. And Ty and Qoorie. They’d showed up shortly after I’d dropped in the game. Had the peddlers of addiction at NeuraSoft programmed them to be my in-game buddies?

  KingFarthurT:> Yo, Jay.

  SigurdDärksvärd:> Yeah?

  KingFarthurT:> You think Ty and Q are apes?

  SigurdDärksvärd:> Lemme check. Gimme a sec… Probably not. Hard to say. I wouldn’t worry about it. Their alignment points tell me they’re good people, so it doesn’t matter if they’re AIPCs or not. They’ll help.

  KingFarthurT:> What if they try to fuck us over? I don’t trust AIs, man.

  SigurdDärksvärd:> Look, NeuraSoft may be the crack dealers of the silicone age, but this game is internally consistent. I’ve played it long enough to know, and I’m not worried about Layna or Ty or Qoorie.

  Jason was no dummy. I couldn’t do this alone and it wasn’t worth arguing.

  KingFarthurT:> If you say so.

  SigurdDärksvärd:> You can trust them, Low.

  KingFarthurT:> Fine.

  I took another look at Emily’s body on the white-on-black marble slab. It was uncanny how much it resembled her. “So, Jason, if this isn’t Emily, how do we find her here in RO?”

  Layna said, “Am I missing something?”

  “Yeah, dawg,” Ty added. “Sound like something ain’t right.”

  I heaved a sigh and briefly explained to them what had happened to Emily and what little we knew.

  Hugging her arms, Qoorie frowned, “That’s horrible. Who would do that?”

  I shook my head, “We have no idea.”

  Ty patted my shoulder, “Whatever you need, dawg, we here for you.”

  Layna said, “I’m so sorry, Logan. I’ll help any way I can.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  Jason gave me a quick look before saying to everyone, “The good news is, I already have an army working on it. Let’s head over to the war room. I’ll show you what we’ve done so far.”

  He led us through a series of white-black corridors into a large hall. It would’ve resembled a regimented white-black FBI situation room, except there were no cookie-cutter cubicles and computers. All the tables and benches were white and black lacquered wood, and the computers were replaced by neatly organized stacks of open books, papers, feather pens, and ink jars. At the front of the room, huge cloth maps were hung from brass bars like tapestries.

  “That’s the world of Reternity,” Jason said, pointing at the maps. “I’ve sent scouts all over everywhere to ask questions, follow leads, track down suspects. I’ve also funneled a mountain of gold to Pollotine and her crew at the Divination Guild and they’ve put some of their best seers on it.”

  “Has anybody found anything?”

  “Patterns of behavior.”

  I snorted, “That doesn’t sound useful.”

  “A billion people, Low. Finding Emily is like trying to find a needle in a haystack the size of planet Earth.”

  I tried to picture it. My mind boggled. Frustrated, I sighed. “Hey, wait. Can’t you spend some luck points to find her?”

  “I tried. I spent 50 already.”

  “Fifty?” I blurted. “I started the game with 1. How did you get so many?”

  “You get them for all kinds of unpredictable reasons. It’s kind of like karma. You can get good luck and bad luck depending on the choices you make in Reternity. You can also get them from gods and spirits by praying for them or dedicating yourself to their causes.”

  “Is that what you did?”

  “I got mine from the karmic route and my adherence to the Law.”

  “So,” I sighed, “what can I do? I don’t wanna ju
st sit around doing nothing.”

  “The best thing you can do right now is level up.”

  I shook my head, “Dude, I don’t give a shit about levels right now. We need to find Emily.”

  “I’m waiting to hear back from my scouts about some promising leads they’re investigating in the Dark Kingdom.”

  “Dark Kingdom?” I chuckled. “What’s that? The place where all the emo kids live?”

  “No,” Jason said. “It’s the seat of Evil in Reternity. The home of the Fractured races. Orken, Wolfang, Toadax, Skallig, the Dark Elves, Mordok, the Xallax, and countless others.”

  “Sounds like a Star Trek convention to me,” I snorted.

  Ty chuckled heartily. “Except they ain’t no Klingons, dawg.”

  “Or Romulans,” Jason grinned before continuing. “Like I was saying, the Dark Kingdom is our best bet. It’s the easiest place to hide Emily without anyone noticing. The PCs and AIPCs who live there aren’t friends of Justice. They don’t play by the rules and they don’t care about basic human or demi-human decency.”

  Layna said, “Maybe your sister is hiding in plain sight. Maybe she’s right under our noses. Maybe the kidnappers want you to draw the obvious conclusion and waste your time and your lives by going and getting killed in the Dark Kingdom. It’s a very dangerous place.”

  I stared at her. I couldn’t argue with her logic. I hated that an ape like her, I meant an AIPC, made good sense.

  Jason continued, “That may be true, Layna, but we need to explore all the leads we have. And, whether we go on a raid in the Dark Kingdom or somewhere here in the Freelands, it will be extremely dangerous for a Level 5 like Logan. That’s why you need to level up, bro,” he said to me. “And that’s why we can’t rush into the Dark Kingdom. If my army gets scattered across the twelve continents, it could take longer than we have to regroup.”

  “Right.” I frowned at him, “Wait, you have an army?”

  “Yes.”

  “Seriously?”

  Jason nodded impatiently. “While I’m getting everything organized, the best thing you can do, all of you,” he glanced at Ty and Qoorie, “is level up. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask you to hang back with the chow wagon with the cooks and the potato peelers.”

  “I’m not doing that,” I scoffed.

  “If you’re level 5 you are.”

  “Why? What level are your cooks?”

  “Level 8. And the potato peelers are level 5. You’re level 5, Logan. How’d you like to unlock your cooking skill?”

  “Dude, I’m not hanging out at the ass end of an army with the kitchen staff.”

  “Don’t underestimate the importance of an army’s supply chain. An army marches on its stomach. Or did you not know that?”

  “Did you just make that up?”

  “No. Napoleon Bonaparte did.”

  I was reluctant to admit it with everyone staring at me, but I was proud of my brother, even if all he did was play a FIVR game. He certainly wasn’t wasting his time in here getting high or chasing girls. He was building something.

  “Okay, Fine,” I sighed. “How long do you want me to go leveling for?”

  “We should hear something by tomorrow. That gives you all afternoon and this evening to gain some XP. I’ll even assign you a quest. Something with some juicy challenges, medium risk.”

  “You can assign quests?” Ty asked, surprised.

  “Do it everyday,” Jason said with pride. He tapped his lips with his index finger. “Hmmm. What sort of quest would be good for you? I know. You can help out with a minor chaos uprising I’ve heard rumors about. Down in the valley. Shouldn’t be too tough.”

  Quest: Arrest the Chaos Incursion. Do the bidding of the Law and bring the nearby Agents of Chaos to justice. If possible, return them to the Stronghold of the Law to await trial.

  Difficulty: Hard.

  Reward: 2500 XP, earn +10 Law points and +10 Fame points. Bonus XP for apprehending the agents alive.

  Do you accept? Y/N

  “I thought you said it was medium risk,” I said to Jason.

  “You scared?”

  “Nah.” When I saw that everyone else had finished reading the same status message that apparently floated in front of them like mine had, I said, “Ty, Q, you wanna go kill some bad guys?”

  They both perked up.

  Jason said, “Bring them to justice, not kill.”

  I suddenly remembered the horror I’d felt when I’d killed those harpies back in the jungle. “Yeah,” I said mildly, “good point.” I glanced at Layna, not sure what to say.

  She hiked an expectant eyebrow. When I didn’t say anything, her brows started to furrow.

  I heaved a sigh, “Layna, you wanna come with?”

  “You sure you want me along?” she pouted.

  Shit. This was what Jason warned me about. Be nice, he’d said. I forced a smile, “I’d be honored to have you along, Layna.”

  “Sure.” She smirked and folded her arms across her glorious cleavage.

  I hated that I could stare at her cleavage all day. It was fake cleavage. Actually, it was the most incredible all-natural cleavage I’d ever seen. No breast implants looked this good. But she wasn’t a real person. But I still loved to look. I tore my eyes away, trying to forget how attracted I already was to her. “Okay, shall we?”

  Jason led us out of the war room and walked us down a corridor. A random man approached from the far end. Jason said, “There’s someone I’d like you to take with you. As a chaperone.”

  “Chaperone?” I spat. “We don’t need a—Dad?”

  Smiling, my father strode up to us wearing a suit of rugged leather armor with a double-bladed battle axe slung at his side and a dark green cloak on his shoulders. Also had a bow slung across his chest and a quiver of arrows on his hip. He wasn’t wearing a back brace, he wasn’t grunting in pain, he wasn’t putting on a brave face, pretending his backbones weren’t crumbling to dust. He walked tall and moved like an athletic man in his prime.

  My heart broke.

  SigurdDärksvärd:> Dad doesn’t know about Emily, so don’t tell him.

  KingFarthurT:> Got it.

  “Logan,” Dad said, “I hope you’re being nice to your brother.”

  I nodded, still speechless.

  “If Jason tells me otherwise, I’ll have to take you out back to the woodshed and remind you of what’s what.” He broke into a soft and joyful chuckle before throwing his arms around me in a powerful bear hug, just like he used to in the real world before his back injury. “Good to see you, son.”

  He hadn’t hugged me like this in years because he couldn’t do it without severe pain, and I couldn’t hug back without fear of hurting him. Now he squeezed me hard. Both of us got a little misty.

  For just a second, it felt like family game night.

  Then I remembered Mom was gone and Emily was still missing.

  I hugged Dad as hard as I could.

  He didn’t mind one bit.

  —: Chapter 14 :—

  Tuesday, March 17th, 2037

  1:51pm

  The Real World

  Bangkok, Thailand

  Emily sat in front of an old steel police desk in a dilapidated and grimy police station. Her hands were cuffed in her lap.

  The Bangkok police official in the green military style uniform with the red shoulder tassel sat across from her. He tossed a bag of orange pills onto the grimy blotter. Not the little baggie of two the officers had planted on Emily at the market. This bag held at least fifty.

  “This you drug, lady?” the official asked in accented English.

  “No,” Emily insisted with shocked disbelief.

  “Is you drug,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Is you drug.”

  Emily was stunned. Although her wild days were behind her, she had been arrested a few times in her life for underaged drinking. Never for drugs. But that was in America where nothing remotely like this had ever happened to her or any of her fri
ends. She couldn’t believe it was happening now, but it was.

  The police official slid a clipboard across the desk. On it was a sheet of paper covered with printed Thai writing. Emily couldn’t read a single one of the squiggly characters.

  “What’s it say?” she asked.

  “It say you sell drug.”

  “I’m not signing that,” she growled.

  “You sign!” The police official jabbed his finger on the paper and the clipboard rattled on the desk.

  “No!”

  “You sign,” the angry official warned, “or you go to jail forever. Pretty girl like you no good for jail.”

  “Those aren’t my pills. And I’m not signing anything I can’t read,” Emily said, trying to stay calm and strong. The stifling heat was pressing in around her. She hadn’t been allowed to drink the bottle of water she’d stolen and they hadn’t given her any here at the station. Although an old steel fan on the desk blew a sputter of air toward the police official, none of it touched her. Even if it had, she was too dehydrated to sweat.

  “Sign it!” He stared her down, his upper lip quivering around his side-leaning teeth.

  Emily’s cheeks twitched with defiance. In a calm low voice she said, “I want to talk to a lawyer.”

  “You no get lawyer! This Thailand, lady! No American lawyer for you here. You break law. Ya-ba class 1 drug! No lawyer for drug dealer. You prostitute! You criminal, lady!” He stared at Emily, waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t, he calmed slightly. “Lawyer do you no good. You sign paper.”

  The two officers who’d framed Emily with the first baggie of Ya-ba stood behind her. She wanted to turn and run out of the office, but they’d tackle before she took a single step. She needed to calm down and think. Stalling, she said, “Can I have some water? I’m dying of thirst. Please. I can’t think.”

  The official tipped his head back proudly, staring down his nose at her for a long time. Eventually, he reached under his desk. A metal drawer scraped as he opened it and pulled out a bottle of water and sat it on the desk. He took out a 2 ounce paper cup from a small stack and filled it half way before sliding it across the desk.