by Reapers
Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to take in the netherworldly glory – a series of frozen avatars in front of us make it abundantly clear that a battle is underway.
“Still turn-based?” I ask, although I already know the answer.
Sophia says, “It’s the OMIB associated with Polynya, so yes.”
A scroll appears in before us: JOIN THE BATTLE?
I press the golden YES button and a fanfare sounds.
Veenure is the first to acknowledge us. She’s badly wounded, her life bar down to 25%. “What took you so long?”
“It took us a second to get the word from Rocket, who was monitoring your progress.”
Sophia turns to Zedic, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, his avatar not matching his optimism. There’s no bleeding in Tritania, but if there were, Zedic would need a liter or so of O negative right about now. His life bar is down by three-quarters, too.
I focus on the group of Reapers across from us. Seven in total and they look predictably reaperish with their bulging muscles, tribal tattoos and carved skull masks. Sure, they’ve got world appropriate armor that is filled with ‘oh-look-at-how-tough-I-am’ Spawn spikes and chains, but having finished off Rollins in the real world, I’m feeling mostly pissed that I’ve been called to the parallel Milky Way to deal with more angsty dweebs and brainwashed orphans.
“Can I go first?” I ask.
“Use your hack,” Sophia says. “We need to get their RL positions.”
“Oh I will,” I say, my hand coming up to my inventory list, “but I got a point to prove first.” I scroll to my disco mirror ball, item 149. It appears under my free arm as if it were a basketball.
Sophia shouts, “What the hell are you doing?”
“How much is the penalty for using a gun-based weapon here?” I ask the sky.
No reply.
“Rocket?”
“Nope,” says Frances, “he can’t get feeds here either.”
“Well, I suppose this will have to be worth it.”
Before Sophia can protest more or Frances can stop me, I toss the mirrored disco ball into the air. It stops directly above the Reapers and hovers there like my own personal Death Star. The Goosinator hack spreads up my arm and forms a barrel that could fit a supersized wack-a-mole. I aim the weapon at the disco ball and fire.
Le boom. The blast hits the disco ball and light sprays everywhere, hitting each Reaper, and just like Doc programmed, forcing them to immediately log out.
My life bar flashes red and the battle is dunzo.
~*~
No trumpet, no nothing, and if Doc’s Goosinator is working as it should – and it is – the Skull and Crossbones rejects are attempting to log back in right now, only to be presented with an image of Granny Weatherwax whipping a Reaper’s tookus with a cast iron skillet as their real world locations are logged and saved to Doc’s system. The point is: we got the bastards.
“Let’s blow this pop stand; all this space is giving me the willies.”
Sophia is the definite bearcat of the bunch, and she goes out of her way to brush past me with more brusqueness than is really called for. She kneels next to Zedic, who sits on the non-ground with his knees pulled to his chest. “It’ll be okay,” she tells him.
“This sucks,” he says. “SUCKS!” He hammers the non-ground with his fist. I could swear I see the continuum wrinkle around his fist just a bit, but it could be my imagination or the aftereffects of my real world concussion.
“What’s gotten into you, man?” I ask.
“They blasted me!”
“So? I blasted them back,” I tell him.
Veenure’s eyes shine under her hood. “No, they zapped him with some weird weapon.”
“A hack?”
“Assholes,” he says, “I almost dodged it, but like, someone cast something on me and I froze midair.”
Veenure walks over to Zedic, holds her hand over his head and says something in Thulean pretend-talk.
“That won’t work,” Sophia says. “Besides, even if you were twenty levels higher, you still wouldn’t be powerful enough to cast an algospell. They start at level ninety-five.”
“An algospell?”
“An advanced spell that has the ability to modify a Proxima algorithm. These have various names, depending on the Proxima World you’re in. FYI: a mutant hack is a weapon with an algospell as its core component.”
Veenure snorts. “We’re all impressed with your big brain, I’m sure – but what about him? We can’t just leave him here!”
“Hold the phone, Malone! What do you mean leave him here?” I ask.
“I can’t log out!” he shouts, tapping his finger against the air. “Look!”
Veenure turns to me, flips down her hood. Her eyes seethe with an inner fire; fury distorts her features. “Who the hell were those guys? How do they have weapons like that?”
I give Frances a should we spill the beans look. She shakes her head.
“Those guys are part of highly organized group who sow misery and unhappiness everywhere they go. They’re serious bad guys whose actions have serious repercussions in the real world. We’ve run up against them a bunch of times in other worlds as well, and we don’t, um, really know who they are yet, to be honest.”
“They’re a bunch of teenage dirtbags,” I add.
Veenure shakes her head. “How’s that even possible? And how long have they been after you?”
“We call them Reapers,” Frances says, eying Sophia carefully to make sure we’re all on the same page. “That’s about all we know about them.”
“I don’t care what you call them – we can’t just leave Zedic here! He’s our guild-sibling!”
Frances asks, “Did they get you too?”
Veenure raises her hand and the logout button appears. “I thought they did, but I guess I’m good to go.”
“Assholes.” Zedic raises his hand to logout – nothing.
My heart skips a beat; I do the same and the logout button appears. “Whew,” I say under my breath.
“And it gets shittier,” he says, flaring his nostrils. “I’m not stuck in Tritania proper; I am stuck out here in BFE.”
“You don’t know that,” says Sophia.
“Try to forceport me to Tritania.”
She raises her hand, the red sphere forms around Zedic, and it bursts like a soap bubble.
“How did you know it wouldn’t work?” she asks.
“Why would they have taken us to the OMIB if they didn’t plan to utilize the setting? They didn’t have any other advantages aside from their numbers.”
I give the place another gander, imagining how shitty it would be to be trapped here. Sure, The Loop had its ups and downs, and the rainy days and daily assassination attempts were taxing, but there was always something to do. This place is akin to being stuck in a void, the embodiment of the Empyrean. Yeah, you can move around, and it seems as if you could walk towards the horizon forever, but there is literally nothing to do, which gives me an idea.
“Can you access your inventory list?”
Zedic raises his hand and his list appears in front of him, lit by a faint rim of yellow. “Apparently I can,” he says, “but I don’t have anything but weapons in it.”
“Can you use comms?”
“I can’t.”
I grin at Sophia long enough for her to turn away.
“Well, well, well,” I tell him. “Your old buddy Quantum has enough junk in my trunk – that didn’t come out right, but you get the point – to entertain just about anyone. A TV? I got one in my list, item 74. It only plays detective movies, but most aren’t too shabby.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Hey, before everyone starts judging me, let me finish – that’s not all I have. You name it, I got it. A blender so you can make some drinks and liquor for said drinks? I got it. A couch? Check. A set of golf clubs? That could be fun for hitting some balls, you know, getting some stress out. A
pot of hot coffee? You know I got it. A Chicago deep-dish pizza? Got it. Cuban cigar? Bolivar Libertado at your service. A bicycle? Item 180 to be exact. I even have a replica of Hemingway’s typewriter, just in case you want to do some typing.”
“All that stuff is old,” he pouts.
Well, now I’m offended, but not offended enough shut my trap. “How about my Warrick Brown four-piece sectional leather sofa, Item 322? It’s comfy.”
“I don’t want anything.” Zedic drops his face into his hands. Yeah – he’s definitely pouting.
“We’re here for you,” says Frances.
“I’ll hang out here with you as much as I can,” Aiden says. “Same with the other NPCs in our guild.”
“Yeah,” says Veenure. “I’ll visit too, I promise.”
Sophia says, “We have your coordinates.”
“In this?” he says, waving his hand around. “This shithole?”
“This is far from a shithole,” I tell him, The Loop on my mind. “It is more of a vacuum.”
“Yes,” Sophia agrees. “Your coordinates are … well … you. They are you, within you. Any time a human player spawns in the OMIP, their coordinates are tied to their avatar. A human player can’t spawn here directly, but once they’ve spawned in Tritania, they can either be transported here via a portal or if they’re a higher level magic user – like me – they can use a variation of an algospell to come here.”
“We’re here for you, buddy,” I tell him. “We’ll get you through this. Immurement is a bitch.”
Chapter Ten
Sophia twitches her nose like Samantha Stephens and boom, we’re back in the forest where we started. It’s night in Tritania and a mist has settled all around us, giving the place an eerie, Transylvania vibe.
Rocket: What did I miss? Where’s Zedic?
Me: A lot. Zedic is stuck in the OMIB and we can’t communicate with him over comms. Get Doc on the horn; maybe he’s heard of something like this before. The Reapers have new tech that cancels a person’s ability to log out. It’s like what the bleachies had on their necks, but now it’s a projectile weapon.
Rocket: Horn?
Me: Tell Doc what happened.
Aiden says, “We aren’t too far from Waringtla. If we hurry, we’ll be able to make it there under the cover of night … my preference.” He gives me the same wicked grin I’ve seen him give me countless times before he killed me.
“You wanna go, old pal?”
His countenance changes. “Nothing like that, although that could be interesting given our limitations in Tritania. Just thinking of the best way to get into the city.”
“Why don’t we just knock on the big giant door?”
“You would say that.” If Sophia had the ability to blow steam out of her nose, she’d do it just about every time she spoke with me. I get the urge to respond and I suppress it by turning to Frances and winking.
Veenure says, “There will be fewer spiders if we go through the Attla Forest now. They’re daytime creatures.”
Aiden pulls ahead. “I’ll go scope it out.” And with that, he’s gone.
“Eek,” says Frances, her face scrunching up. “Spiders… “
Sophia says, “We’ll do whatever we need to do to stop the giants from attacking during the Griffin Festival, including fighting spiders.”
“We sure do a lot for an NPC empress.”
“Did you forget what happened earlier today?” Sophia frowns at me as she takes the lead, and the rest of us fall in line behind her. “She said she’d give us enough EXP – well not me but you all – to travel to the next continent.”
“To Ultima Thule, I get it. Seriously though, I don’t see why we’re doing her any favors when we could just get levels ourselves. Nothing wrong with getting our hands dirty.”
“You don’t actually get it, do you?” Veenure calls over her shoulder. “EXP is harder to get as we advance in levels. Being instantly awarded enough EXP to move to level 35 is legit. Only an Emperor or the Empress can do something like that. That’s why we’re going to stop the giants.”
“First we do this for her, then we do that. Soon enough, we become her gophers. I can hear her now: Yoo-hoo, commoner scum, go fetch us the Wicked Witch’s broomstick, the Holy Grail, and the Sword of Omens. As your reward, we will give you two-thirds of an EXP level, a five dollar off coupon for Chuck E. Hooters, and an autographed Frog King PEZ dispenser.”
“Don’t you care about Zedic?” Veenure asks.
“What does he have to do with us taking some quest from Empress Thun? I’m logged out for a few hours and little empress Sophia takes over the group,” I say, half-meaning it. I assume that Veenure assumes that Sophia has briefed me on what happened while I was out with pho belly, but you know what they say about assumptions.
“The Empress can likely help Zedic too,” she says, ignoring my wisecrack. “If we aren’t able to solve the puzzle first, of course.”
“She’s right, Steamboy,” says Veenure.
“Plus, we’ll get some friends back in RL working on Zedic’s issue,” says Frances, “including Rocket. He’s kind of a big hacker.”
Rocket: Kind of?
“I figured,” Veenure says. “He seems like he doesn’t go out much. I bet he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks.”
Rocket: Hey! I saw the sun two days ago! Besides it was almost not overcast in Steam last night.
Frances Euphoria: She can’t hear you, I mean read you.
Sophia: Are comms always this ridiculous when all of you are logged in?
“Rocket’s geekiness is to our advantage,” I assure Veenure. “He knows some people that are pretty deep into the Proxima Galaxy. Plus, he … um … lives near Zedic, so he can arrange medical care while we figure out what to do next.”
“The Sage of Gotha might know too,” says Sophia.
“The guy on Ultima Thule everyone keeps talking about?” I ask.
Veenure’s eyes flash from green to yellow and back again. “He’s the world’s NVA Seed; everyone knows this.”
“NPC or commoner?”
“NPC,” both Sophia and Veenure say.
Me: Well Dolly wasn’t much help in The Loop up until the end, when she led me to the logout point.
Frances Euphoria: She kept you entertained.
Rocket: I think she did more than that.
Me: Both of you are on thin ice.
Frances Euphoria: This gives us yet another reason to get to Ultima Thule, which gives us another reason to successfully complete the Empress’ quest. We need to find Strata’s son and we need to free Zedic. It’s not quite a two birds one stone scenario, but it’s pretty darn close. At the same time, Rocket and Doc can work on any hackery ways to free him, if that’s even possible.
“Well what are we waiting for?” I announce to the group. “Let’s do a little spider squashing on our way to Giantville!”
~*~
Easier said than done.
The first Attla Spiders we encounter are nasty little beasts, covered in thick bristly hairs and salivating like rabid pooches. I almost want to offer Frances my airplane barf bag, item 84, but the spiders attack first and damn if we don’t narrowly dodge their venomous fangs.
“Our turn!” I say as I access my Spider-Gwen Web Shooters, item 143, just to be ironic. They appear on my wrists and I give my palms a quick tap. With great power comes great responsibility, and I’m just about to channel the spirit of Stan Lee when Sophia moves forward to attack. “Hey!”
“You’re taking too long,” she says as she lifts into the air.
COMBO LINK!
“I didn’t agree to this!” she shouts, but glorious Proxima AI has taken over by this point. I swing forward, my webs attached to God-knows-what and I start doing Liu Kang bicycle kicks. A haze of light whirls around Sophia’s body and she blasts me with it, multiplying my legs by a hundred and giving me the appearance of a Hindu deity. One hundred legs kicking strong and boy, do the spiders hate the bottom of my stompers.
COMBO MADE!
The words Lance Legstrong Attack flash on the screen.
Rocket: Dope move!
“I see what you did there, Peanut Gallery,” I say as I land back on our side of the fighting field. “Nice.”
Rocket: (ᵔᴥᵔ)
Charlotte’s bastard offspring scatter and the battle ends. No EXP, no trumpet.
“What the hell happened to the creepy crawlers?” I ask.
Veenure presses her hood off her head; the Thulean tattoos running down her cheeks pulsate. “They’re regrouping,” she says as her eyes widen in fear. The foliage around us rustles and Frances practically jumps into my arms.
“Easy, tiger,” I tell her, hoping she gets the Mary Jane reference. She doesn’t.
“I hate spiders! Hate hate hate them!”
“Strange, they always speak well of you!”
She gives me the one-eye-closed-and-the-other-one-squinched-not-very-amused-look.
Aiden vanishes, appears several yards ahead of us with his weapons trained on the darkened forest. The only light available right now is from an orange moon above, which is partially blocked by the tops of the trees. This gives him just about as much concealment as an assassin could need, and he don’t need much. I’d hate to be any fairy tale critter traipsing through this particular enchanted forest with Morning Assassin out there on the prowl.
Sophia does her Glenda the Good Witch act. A map forms out of cosmic dust in front of her, and our party is indicated by small green triangles. The GoogleFace Maps logo appears in the corner.
“You can cast Nakk Legendakh?” asks Veenure.
“Engrish puwreez,” I say.
“Almost racist,” says Frances.
“What is?”
“Making fun of people’s English language skills.”
“Um … it actually is racist,” says Sophia.
“When did that become racist? And whose English language skills am I making fun of right at this moment anyway, Ms. Big Sensitivity Sheriff of the Quest?”
She very carefully explains, in the tone of voice that Diversity and Inclusion professionals use to enlighten the less-evolved, “By an overwhelming majority, the UN Commission on Self-Worth Enhancement and Hurt Feelings Diminishment enacted the English As A Non-Primary Language Antidisembiggenmentarianism Position Paper of 2053, which declares that any citizen, resident, or non-traditionally documented immigrant of a signatory member-nation who mocks, denigrates, pokes fun at, disembiggens, or otherwise disempowers any self-aware entity’s non-standard use, sentence structure, or pronunciation of English as a non-primary language commits a racist act. So yes, it is indeed racist!”