Raze realized he was falling backwards through time, his life literally flashing before his eyes. This was the worst sign of all.
The playback shifted into slow motion and a series of disjointed memories of his childhood resurfaced: riding his bicycle with the warm, spring wind at his back; his father lifting him to his shoulders to better see the dolphins at the zoo; and his mother bending over him, kissing his forehead as she tucked him into bed.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too,” he heard himself say back in a small boy voice.
A sharp jolt of the emotion punched him in the gut with the force of a prizefighter and he doubled over in pain. He’d never heard himself speak such things and now he felt them with a vengeance.
Grief and loss regurgitated from the depths of him as the incapacitating blow continued to work its tempest through him. When the sickness made its way up to his heart, Raze felt it rip apart and, suddenly he had names for every emotion he had never allowed himself feel. The alien feelings of joy, hope, tenderness, and love were all there, let loose like an infection.
The tunnel broke open and Raze was violently ejected out into a dense and infinite blanket of stars. His somersault in the void offered a momentary respite from the emotional deluge, but then a vision of Aislen appeared before him. Dressed in only a blue flamed nimbus that licked and caressed her body, hinting at the bare skin beneath it as she danced across the cosmos. Her face was tranquil and angelic.
Another slew of emotions spewed forth. Raze had become increasingly familiar with these the past few days and he had been completely undone by them, rendered useless whenever he found himself in her presence. He knew their names now too: longing, desire, and passion. They ached in his soul.
As he watched her travel across the galactic expanse, something more, a compelling déjà vu, tormented his memories. She seemed familiar to him, like he knew her from somewhere—from before Demesne—from before life itself. And he felt like he’d been looking for her for eons, yet had forgotten all about that until this moment.
The nostalgia overwhelmed him. How desperately he had missed her! Yet here she was, in front of him the whole time. How had he not realized that?
He tried to call out to her, but his tongue was thick and useless, and she continued drifting further into the infinite.
“Game accessed,” he heard a woman’s voice say from a far-off distance behind him and a force began dragging him in the opposite direction that Aislen traveled.
“But I just found her again,” he protested, though no one was there to hear.
Raze willed himself to swim after her, but the empty space around him felt like granite rather than air and every muscle in his body cramped with the effort. No amount of strength could break him free.
“Game accessed,” the voice said again and he began to recognize what that meant. But Aislen seemed more important. He had to get her back. He reached toward her fading presence.
“Game accessed,” he heard again and he was snapped backwards violently.
“Noooooo!” Raze heard himself cry out, but the unrelenting force reeled him in at warp speed until he slammed back against a surface so hard that it knocked the wind out of him.
“Game accessed,” the woman repeated, closer now, just beyond the ringing in his ears.
Raze could feel his flesh encasing him again and an excruciating pain at the back of his head. He opened his eyes. The black expanse of the universe was still there, but Aislen was not. Few stars remained and those that did were distant and slowly fading into a mist of fog.
“Game accessed.” The voice was insistent.
The twinkling lights of the night reemerged from their backdrop and Raze could now see they were the lights of the skyline that towered above him. He began to hear the sounds of rushing and squealing and sirens blaring; and he recognized the sounds of the waterfall melodically tickling his ears. He was still alive.
“Game accessed.”
His mind cleared as he realized he was back on the rooftop of his warehouse.
“Game accessed.” The Womb called out and Raze was instantly and fully alert. He leapt to his feet with a desperate urgency that was his own now.
Mathis was in the game and if Aislen was still alive, Raze had to stop Mathis from sending her to her destruction.
CHAPTER 38
As soon as he entered Base Camp, Mathis went on the prowl. His first hardcore stint in Demesne had taught him more than a few lessons. He knew that in order to begin his journey through the Octaves he needed a partner. A clan would be even better.
Ichiban wasn’t going to come hold his hand this time. That egomaniacal superfreak was sure to make him work for it; expect Mathis to seek him out, prostrate himself at his feet, hand over the info on Aislen, then grovel to be taken to where “the action happens” as promised.
Well, it wasn’t going to go down like that. Mathis didn’t actually have a plan for how it was going to go down, but he knew he was going to get what he wanted without leading the virgin to the sacrifice. Aislen and Sabine would be kept out of all this and Mathis would get his answers.
Rather than audition for the pros, Mathis decided to scope out the newbies. They’d be grateful for a mentor and wouldn’t have an agenda of their own yet. He had even learned a tad bit of geekspeak to help him blend in with the goobers. Not a fact he was proud of, but there was no way in hell he’d be getting ganked this go around.
He marched into Base Camp with all the swagger he could muster and did a quick once over of the fresh meat. A half dozen n00bs postured about, each a clone of the next, looking like what every new player looked like—a buffed and badass mercenary. There was no way to tell which one of them actually had any skill. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“You!” Mathis yelled, punching his finger at an exceptionally beefy one, “and you!” he barked at another who was fucking the air with a sword. “Come with me!”
The two newbians fell in line with him, no questions asked. Mathis considered that a win, although it also proved how stupid they were. He took one last glance around the room at the remaining pool of players. It would have been nice to have more expendable bodies on the team for any combat scenarios they encountered, but Mathis didn’t want to be hindered by all the inexperience he saw loitering about. His not-so-fearsome twosome would have to do.
Just as he turned to march them toward the door, a player spawned out of thin air into Base Camp: a squat troll with a sickly green tint to his skin, dressed in what looked like nothing more than a burlap sack. He waddled directly up to Mathis and looked up at him with eyes that protruded three inches from his head and spun like whirligigs in their sockets. The only thing remotely attractive about the hideous creature was the massive, semi-automatic weapon strapped on his back.
“Hey, dude. I need a lift,” the troll said, fixing one telescopic eye on Mathis, while the other one rotated around, scoping out the other players in the arena. “Can I join your little clan, here?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Mathis thought to himself, but before he could be so rude as to actually say it, the troll continued.
“I know what you’re thinking, man. But I get a lot of action lookin’ like this, if you know what I mean.” He gave Mathis a grotesque wink.
Mathis opened his mouth to protest, but the troll interrupted him again, getting serious.
“Look. I’m an original playa from back at Beta. I know my way backwards and forwards in this joint...and,” he thumbed a crooked stub toward the weapon on his back. “I got Big Bertha here.
“I need to get back to the 9th Circuit so I can use her on the whore that just fragged my ass. And since this game doesn’t let you go Lone Ranger ’til the 5th, I need a team to piggyback on.”
Mathis ears lit up at the mention of the 9th Circuit. It was right where he needed to be. He sized up the whole three thick feet of the varmint, discouraged. He really didn’t need this shrimp slowing him down, bu
t if he was really that good, it would save Mathis from having to waste time grinding his way through the Octaves.
“What’s your name?” Mathis asked.
“I go by Dookie.”
That didn’t help.
“Don’t hate,” Dookie said, reading the look on his face. “Like I said, it works for me.”
Mathis sighed with resignation. Without the troll along it would be the blind leading the blind. “Alright...Dookie. If you can help us get to the 9th Circuit as quickly as possible, you can join us. I have some business to take care of there myself.”
“He, he. I’m sure you do, big guy,” the troll smiled slyly, revealing one, rotten tooth. “I’m sure you do.”
Mathis made a mental not to himself not to look at the beast lest he gag. “Let’s get goin’ then,” he said.
The troll weeble-wobbled out the door, leading the way, which was fine with Mathis.
∞
Raze fumbled his way into the house and stumbled like a drunkard across the catwalk toward his room. Not being completely assimilated back in his body, he misjudged the position of the doorway and slammed hard into its metal frame. A sharp spasm ripped through his shoulder and he had to prop himself against the wall to catch his breath. The pain actually helped him remember the boundaries of his flesh. Here was his arm. There was his neck. He found his fingers and wiggled them.
“Game accessed. Game accessed. Game accessed.” Though it was her usual serene voice, on repeat, The Womb sounded maniacal.
Raze rested his face against the cool concrete, letting it soothe the throbbing in his head. He couldn’t let his sense of urgency turn into panic or he would be even more useless. He pressed himself off the wall and shuffled into the bedroom, making it safely to the soft cushion of his bed.
“Game on,” he said to The Q as he grabbed his gear off the nightstand.
“Find Mathis,” he commanded, after the console powered up.
The target icon zipped across the screen and through the Octaves, pinpointing the sergeant in the 5th walking with three other players, none of which appearing to be Ichiban. Raze had to wonder how Mathis could have made it this far without him.
The game did not allow players to level up without earning it. It was designed to maximize the players grind time, making them engage in repetitive, boring tasks. Once they were used to the game, players were like little rats, not wanting to figure out a new maze to get their hit. They didn’t want to try new things or take on harder challenges. Instead they would rather repeat a familiar scenario again and again to get to their desired goal.
It took even the best players several hours to make it this far when they started a new session and Infinium raked the bucks off them in subscription fees. Mathis had made it too far, too fast.
Using a gloved finger, Raze selected the soldier bringing up the rear and accessed his stats. He went by Neo4253, which meant he was the four thousandth, two hundredth and fifty third Neo in Demesne, which was four thousand, two hundred and fifty-three too many. Not only did the tag prove he was an ubern00b, so did his stats. This was his first time in the game; he had no assets, no kill count, and no skill points. The poor kid hadn’t even popped his cherry yet. He brought nothing to the team.
He selected the soldier hoofin’ it in front of Neo The Zero next. GrimGriever had a better name and smidgen more game, with three kills and a pouch of gold in his belt. But that wasn’t near enough to have gotten this clan this far.
Finally, Raze selected the green dwarf that was leading the league of losers and he found his answer. Dookie was an Alpha player, a tank with so many experience points racked up, he never needed to waste his time grinding through the Octaves. He had almost as unlimited access to the game as Raze did—and Raze was the Puppetmaster. There was a rare cast of characters that made it to the Master list, and Dookie was not a name Raze recognized from it.
“Player profile,” he told The Q. He wanted to know the Real Life details on this cat; like what his real name was and where he was from.
“Access denied,” The Q display read.
Really? Again? Raze stared at the screen, almost disbelieving, and yet, all too accustomed to these high speed curveballs now.
Raze wondered if Grant, fearing Mathis would not trust his Ichiban character anymore, reinvented himself as this harmless looking ogre.
“Locate Ichiban,” he told The Q.
The scope icon flew across the screen, skipping to Octave 6 and the jungles outside the 9th Circuit. Standing in nearly the same spot he was the last time Raze saw him, was Ichiban. So much for that idea. Raze contemplated the scene for a moment. If Grant and Blake were still as one in Ichiban, than who was the little gnome?
Raze fought the urge to enter the game. He so wanted to phase in and fucking blast them all back to Base Camp, but what good would that do? That was not a permanent solution. It would only delay the inevitable. Grant would eventually find his way to Aislen—and to Preston Reed through her. If he interfered at this point, Raze wouldn’t be protecting Aislen or Infinium’s interests. He needed to play it wise, remain behind the curtain and bide his time until he had a real opportunity to change this game.
He continued to sit there, watching impotently as Mathis and his clan entered the teleport tube and slid into the Octave 6.
∞
The doors opened and Mathis followed Dookie into the jungle scenario he remembered from his last visit. If he was right, Ichiban would be waiting in the clearing just beyond the first grove of trees.
Now that he was nearly there, Mathis needed to figure out how he was going to ditch the clan. He didn’t need them anymore and it would be best if he confronted Ichiban on his own. He wouldn’t be able to play bad cop to its full effectiveness with an audience and there was no way Ichiban would take Mathis where he wanted to go with the tagalongs.
He wasn’t worried about the troll. Dookie just wanted to exact some revenge on a ho in the 9th then maybe knock naughties with another, but the other two geeksters needed to go.
As if on cue, Dookie turned around. “Here, let me take care of that for you.”
He whipped Big Bertha around his body, grabbed ahold of it with both nubby hands, and lit up the two players standing behind them with bullets of electric blue light. Mathis watched, in shock, as they both exploded in a rain of blood, guts and pixels. Mathis stared speechlessly at the chunky, gut puddle.
“Works for me. Does that work for you?” Dookie asked.
Mathis turned back to face Dookie and stared down the barrel of Big Bertha, now pointed at him. Dookie pulled a pair of shades out of his pocket. They matched the pair Mathis wore exactly.
“So this is how it goes,” Dookie said, matter of fact, sliding the visors over his bulging bug eyes. “You are going to take me to this Ichiban character. You are going to get that motherfucker to take us to this secret level of his. Then I am going to handle the rest. Comprendez?”
No. Mathis did not comprendez. How did this squat fuck know about Ichiban? How did he know about the secret level? And what exactly was he going to handle? With the deadly end of Big Bertha in his face, Mathis was not on the asking end of those questions. “Do I have a choice?”
Dookie frowned and rotated one eyeball in the direction of the gut puddle in the dirt. “Not unless you wanna end up like them. And trust me, you don’t.”
“Who are you?” Mathis asked against his better judgment.
The troll snorted. “Who is anybody?” He flicked the muzzle of the gun toward the jungle. “Get moving. I got some shit to take care of.”
∞
Raze sat at the edge of the bed, immobilized by shock. What had just happened blew his mind.
Besides slaughtering the two n00bs without warning, the troll had just taken Mathis hostage and was now demanding that he get Ichiban to take them both into The Stratum. Most disturbing, was he had a pair of visors that, even in two-dimensional CGI, looked like the missing pair to Raze’s set.
That
explained why Raze didn’t find them in the Parrish house. Someone else had them! The question was who? Who was this green, little shit?
“Take the visors off, Mathis,” Raze said to the sergeant through the television. “Get out of this while you can.”
But Mathis was too caught up in the game to think of such a simple solution, and began walking into the jungle with the troll trailing behind him.
∞
Reluctantly, Mathis slogged through the thick vegetation of the primeval forest toward his rendezvous point with Ichiban. The troll tailed him like a shadow, using his girth for cover. He stepped out into the clearing and immediately spotted Ichiban standing in the distance, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently.
“I was beginning to wonder whether or not you would show,” Ichiban said as Mathis approached.
“Uhhhh...yeah...uh, sorry. It took me a while to find what you are looking for.”
“So you found her? You know where the girl is?” Ichiban lost his normally cool disposition, his excitement causing his voice to tremble a bit.
“Uh...yeah. I guess I did.”
“Well, let’s have it. Where is she?”
Mathis stalled. He didn’t understand what kind of game these fools were really playing, but he knew that if he told Ichiban where Aislen lived, there would be no incentive to take him to the hidden level, which was the only reason he was here. Ichiban would just take the info and run with it. Then Aislen and Sabine would be in a world of hurt.
It crossed his mind then that he could just take the damn visors of his face, turn off the cube, then burn it like a Ouija board in his back yard and forget he ever ventured here. But that wouldn’t solve a murder and it wouldn’t protect Aislen or Sabine from these freaks. No, Mathis needed answers first. He had to go to that hidden level.
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