by S. R. Witt
The axeman squealed and thrashed his legs in a panic. Too bad for him they weren’t cooperating from the knee down and all he accomplished was making the damage to his joints much, much worse. I almost felt sorry for the guy, and if he hadn't splattered my brother across the alley, I might've let things go at that.
But I'm not a very forgive-and-forget kind of guy when it comes to murdering my relatives.
I grabbed the axe from where it had fallen and hoisted it up onto my shoulder. It was heavy and unwieldy and there was no way I could handle it in a fight. Good thing I wasn't looking for a fight.
The axe's owner watched me with wide, frightened eyes. Shock and his damaged legs left him too weak and crippled to do anything but watch me adjust my grip on the axe.
“It must really suck to be a monster in the beginner area,” I said. Then the axe fell and the thug screamed and my blood sang.
Vengeance feels pretty good.
Even when it's not necessary.
Congratulations! You have completed Against the Bloody Brotherhood, Part 1. Continue your investigation to begin Part 2!
Chapter Thirteen
My brother looked like he’d had much better days.
The axeman hadn't killed him, but he’d certainly worked him over in the attempt. Bastion grinned at me and tried to shoot me a cocky wink, but his swollen eyes and bloodied mouth made his expression sad and grotesque. He coughed, then said, “At least we survived our first encounter.”
I chuckled, but I wasn't feeling so great, either. A red exclamation mark flashed in the corner of my vision. I focused my attention on it and a message panel snapped into view.
Warning, you are near death. You have suffered 80% of your maximum wound threshold. Should you die before reaching level 5, you will re-roll as a new character in a new starting location.
CAUTION: Any Personal Bonds are severed should you perish before reaching level 5.
That didn’t sound good. “You getting this message about character death?”
Bastion mumbled to himself and I realized he was reading the same warning. My brother’s great at games, but he was never much of a reader. After a few seconds he blinked and groaned. “We're going to have to be a lot more careful. I didn’t expect them to start throwing lethal challenges at us right out of the gate. If we die, it’ll be a long time before we find each other again.“
A cold chill trickled down my spine. The thought of being alone in the Game without Bastion’s guidance made me want to puke. I'd only been in the game an hour and had nearly died. How many times would I get snuffed out if I didn't have my big brother around to keep an eye on me? “Then let's be careful.”
Bastion laughed at that, and winced in pain. “You want to use that potion on me?”
I rooted around in my pouch and came up with the potion. “Here. Drink up.”
Bastion took the flask from my hand and popped the top. “Cheers.”
He guzzled the potion and the effect was immediate and miraculous. The swelling in his face deflated like a time-lapse photo running in reverse. Blood on his chest and arms dried and flaked off, leaving strips of fresh pink flesh visible through the tears in his clothes. “Nice.”
He got to his feet and looked around. “You see anything leading to the next part of the quest? I’m ready to get this thing over with before we run into a dragon.”
I laughed, but it was more hysterical than amused. After that last battle, I wasn’t selling the Devs short. They were devious and unpleasant people and a dragon raging through the newbie area would give them laughing fits, I’d bet.
I looked around, but didn’t see any obvious clues to the next phase of the quest. The alley was sheltered from the wind, which ruined my trick of following the standing snow.
There had to be some clue here somewhere. The Devs wouldn't go to all the trouble to create a game no one would ever get to play. They might be tricky, but they wouldn’t make a game that defeated the players during character creation.
Would they?
What if there wasn’t a game beyond the newbie area? What if the starting zone was the only thing they’d completed? It was so lavish and impressive because this little village was all there was to see.
Shaking off the paranoid thoughts is hard. I’m frustrated and annoyed that the puzzle is so difficult. While I’m freezing my virtual ass off, my mother is out in the World, in pain, wondering how we’ll make rent, how we’ll afford the rent on her ventilator, how her boys will survive when she is gone. What if our plan fails? What if—
Stop, I told myself. If I didn’t have faith that we could pull this off, then we were doomed from the get go.
I looted the last thug’s corpse and came up with another 30 copper coins, more twine and some clay tiles.
Those looked familiar. I tugged open my belt pouch, dropped the new coins in on top of the old ones, and pulled out the tiles I’d looted earlier.
There were different symbols on all the tiles. Hash marks, diagonal slashes, and rows of X’s were prevalent. But on the opposite side, all of the tiles were the same. There was a C and an A right next to each other, and a sideways S above them. I hadn’t seen anything like that anywhere in town.
I turned one of the tiles upside down. Nothing. But when I flipped it onto its side, I couldn’t help but grin. It was a stylized mug of beer.
“We need to find a bar.”
Congratulations! You have begun Against the Bloody Brotherhood, Part 2.
“You think we should go back to the tavern where we started?” Bastion asked.
“Too easy. Plus, I don't remember seeing anyone there who looked like these jerks. I'm guessing somewhere there's a dive bar where guys like this hang out.”
Bastion took a deep breath and stood up straight. His wounds were closed and his face no longer looked like he’d gone a few rounds in a murderbrawl cage. “I need a couple more minutes. And you are not looking great, either. Might as well relax until we heal up. I think we’re getting a bonus for being in the beginner area. Wish I’d have known. Could have saved that potion.”
He was right about the speed healing. The little red bar at the bottom of my vision had turned from red to yellow and was growing wider by the second. It took less than five minutes for it to change from yellow to green and completely cover the bottom of my line of sight.
It took Bastion another minute or two, which meant he had more hit points than me. Getting beat up must've improved his stats in a different way than my sneakiness had improved mine.
As if reading my mind, Bastion put a hand on my shoulder. “We need to be careful with our choices here. Let’s just stick to the plan. I'll handle the physical stuff, you figure out the healing stuff. Every choice we make will determine the types of character we play from here on out. We can't screw this up.”
“I get it.” I grumbled. I understood Bastion’s plan, but I still wasn't fond of the fact that he was going to get to be the knight in shining armor, the kind of hero who gets all the glory and the chicks, while I spent my time stitching up his wounds and mopping up the spilled blood. I was annoyed, but didn’t have any better alternatives. Bastion needed a healer to make the money we needed, which meant I needed to be a healer.
I had to stop thinking about myself and remember why we were here. This wasn't just a game, it was our only chance to get our mother the help she needed. That was our edge.
Other people might be here to have a good time or forget their shitty day job or ignore their kids, but we had a purpose. We were here to make bank.
Bastion stretched and his joints creaked. He was good as new, and so was I. It was time to go looking for trouble.
And it didn't take us long to find it.
Chapter Fourteen
The town was smaller than I’d thought. The tavern we started from sat near its center, and there were buildings a hundred yards in every direction. Its buildings were thrown down in a haphazard mess, and other than the wide thoroughfare through the center of town, the roads were not
hing more than rutted paths. We saw most of the village in less than twenty minutes and found the bar we were looking for on its eastern edge.
The place reminded me of the Unruly Thugs we’d encountered earlier. It was rough and dirty and looked like it wanted to hurt someone. The windows were shuttered and dark, but we could hear loud voices coming from within the rickety shack.
Bastion tilted his head toward the crooked front door. “I'm going in that way. You go around and see if there's a back door. If we catch them by surprise, coming at them from two different directions will keep them off guard and make it easier to clear the place out.“
“Sure,” I said. Of course, you take the front door. I’ll be your unseen right hand as you create the Legend of Bastion, the Shining Hero.
I know it's childish to think like that. Guess what? I don't care.
No one saw me walk to the back of the bar. They hadn’t posted a guard and the streets were empty, which was convenient. The door wasn't barred or locked, so it took me no time at all to get it open and slip inside.
The place was loud and smelled like the inside of a trashcan, and the guttering torches mounted on the walls provided more smoke than light. I crept around the edges of the little storeroom in the back and through the next doorway to the kitchen. The cook had her back to me, which was a relief. She was huge, easily twice the size of the Unruly Thugs, with green skin covered in bulbous warts.
Ogre? Troll? I couldn’t tell, but whatever the cook was, she looked mean enough to rip me limb from limb. Fighting her was out of the question, so I did what I was learning I do best. I hunkered back in the shadows and pretended I didn't exist.
The cook raised her flat face and sniffed the air with her prodigious nose. She glanced back over her shoulder and for a moment I was sure she had spotted me. Her beady eyes probed the darkness where I was hidden and snuffled a great lungful of air once again.
Her nostrils dilated and she sniffed again. What was she, the world’s ugliest bloodhound? I held my breath, sure things were about to get very, very unpleasant.
After a few more sniffs at the air, she shrugged and went back to chopping up a grisly and unidentifiable hunk of meat.
SSUCCESS! You have increased your mastery of the Hide in Shadows skill. (Rank 2)
Cool beans. If I kept hiding like a big chicken, I'd be a master of stealth in no time at all.
Which would almost certainly piss Bastion off. Sneaking around in the dark wasn’t the kind of thing a healer would do. Good. It would serve him right for trying to push me around all the time.
The front door opened. That had to be Bastion. Time for me to move.
I timed my footsteps to coincide with the unpleasant thunking noises coming from the chef's cleaver as she hacked apart the ingredients for the world’s nastiest stew.
A few steps later, I made it to the door separating the kitchen from the bar’s main room. There were no shadows where I was standing. If the cook turned around, there’s no way she could miss me.
It’s okay, I lied to myself. A few more steps and I’d be in the bar, where I was sure it was nice and dark.
Oops! Your hiding check has failed. Enemies will be alerted to your presence.
The alert message stopped my heart. The chef roared something in a language I didn't understand. I reached for the door, and the heavy blade of her cleaver bit into the wood inches from my face.
Oh. Crap.
Chapter Fifteen
The chef's powerful attack did me a favor by knocking the door open and making so much noise it drew attention away from Bastion.
Which was no mean feat, considering that he was trying to set the place on fire.
I stumbled through the open door and ducked my head to avoid another brutal swipe of the chef's cleaver. Her meaty fingers tangled in the rough cloth of my cloak for a split second, but I twisted away before she could tighten her grip.
Did I mention Bastion was trying to set the bar on fire?
He held a torch in his left hand and a bottle of something alcoholic in his right. He gulped a swig from the bottle and spat it across the torch’s crackling flames to create a roaring cone of fire. The flames licked at the faces of the enraged bar patrons before they could reach my brother.
The stink of beer and vomit gave way to the bitter aroma of burning eyebrows and beards. The patrons’ angry grumbles became screams of panic and howls of pain. Getting to Bastion was no longer their top priority. The mob turned and fled from the fire.
Right at me.
The cook shouted something, but her exclamation was drowned out by the rushing tide of burning, hollering thugs.
I threw myself under a nearby table and wrapped my arms over my head and tucked my chin down to my knees. I wasn’t trying to hide, I just didn’t want to be trampled.
“Where are you going?” Bastion shouted. He punctuated his taunt with another blast of fire. This one was big enough to light up the whole room and reach my hiding spot. The flames curled around the edge of the table and set the old wood alight.
Great. Thanks, Bastion.
A burning thug collapsed and tried to crawl under the table. His wounds were too severe for him to last long, though, and his last breath left his lungs before he could get more than his head and shoulders under the table.
I pulled him closer and rifled his pockets and belt pouches. It wasn’t a lot, but I took the coins he had and shoved his body out of my hiding place. Good enough.
The cook was still shouting, but the thugs weren’t interested in what she had to say. The fleeing boozehounds shoved her back through the kitchen door in their mad scramble to escape my pyromaniac brother. She put up a brave fight, digging in her heels and pushing back against the mob of unwashed bodies, but another gust of fire turned the tide against her.
The mob shoved the chef back into the kitchen. The door slammed and it sounded as if the fleeing bar patrons were in the process of stacking anything and everything they could find in front of it.
I waited for a handful of moments and, when no one came looking for me, poked my head out from underneath the table.
Bastion was looking around and I realized he couldn't see me.
SUCCESS! You have increased your mastery of the Hide in Shadows skill. (Rank 3)
Apparently skill increases accrued even when you weren’t actively trying to hide. Nice.
I slid out from beneath the burning table, keeping my head low so I didn't set my luxurious locks aflame, and scrambled to my feet.
“Nice job, pyro,” I snarked.
“Call me Bastion Firebreather,” he said with a victorious smile, “scourge of villains everywhere.”
I hated to admit it, but he did cut quite a dashing figure. Standing there in the bar with his chin held high and the torchlight playing across his features, he looked mighty impressive.
He was definitely going to get all the chicks.
After a few seconds of posing, he lowered the torch and placed the alcohol on the bar. “That's weird. We didn't get a quest complete notification from the Game.”
That was weird.
But not nearly as weird as what happened next.
Chapter Sixteen
A tongue of blue-white flame flared to life in the far corner of the bar, revealing a tall man with a huge sword. The fire burned along the weapon’s length and dripped off its point like blazing venom.
“You boys are in a world of hurt,” he said.
Bastion grabbed the bottle of alcohol again and stepped in front of me. “I got this.”
The man with the blazing sword laughed at my brother. He hefted the blade and shifted to a one-handed grip to point his finger at Bastion. “You come into my place of business, you set fire to my tables, you upset my customers, and you don't even say you're sorry?”
I heard the smile in Bastion’s voice as he quipped, “Sorry? Not sorry.”
He took a swig of booze and rushed the man with the sword. A few steps away from the new threat, he unleashed
a blast of fire that rolled forward onto his opponent.
I decided the better part of valor was hiding. So I did.
SUCCESS! You have increased your mastery of the Hide in Shadows skill. (Rank 4)
I’d be a master of sneakiness in no time.
The flames poured over the swordsman. I braced myself for the stench of burning hair, and plugged my ears so I wouldn't have to hear him get burned alive. I was going to have enough nightmares without seeing that.
But neither of those things happened.
Instead, the swordsman laughed. I looked up in time to see the fire dissipate and leave him untouched. “Want to try that again?”
I didn't know much about these games, but I knew enough to feel dumb. Breathing fire on a guy holding a flaming sword probably wasn't the best move. His immunity to flame made Bastion’s ace in the hole worth approximately zero.
The swordsman raised his weapon and rushed at Bastion, swinging the blade at my brother’s head.
Chapter Seventeen
Bastion was too stunned by his attack’s failure to move. The booze fell from his nerveless fingers and shattered on the floor at his feet. The torch in his other hand illuminated his wide, staring eyes.
My stomach lurched into my throat. I was about to watch my brother get cut down. If he died the whole plan to help our mother would come to a screeching halt.
Not on my watch.
I grabbed a heavy clay tankard off a table and whipped it at the charging swordsman's head. If he hadn't been so fixated on Bastion, if he hadn't turned his head slightly to the right as he raised his sword, if I wasn't hidden, there's no chance that mug would've landed on target.
Fortunately for me, all the stars were lined up just right. The tankard shattered against the swordsman's face, drenching him in beer and blood. He bellowed in pain and staggered to a halt with one hand clutching his wounded face. He clung to his sword with his other hand and leaned against it as his legs turned to rubber.