by Noah Barnett
"Only with the purest of intentions…" he repeated more weakly.
Grace finally relented and said. "I only half jest. He comes by almost daily to visit. Charlie has become something of a nagging nanny, which really was tiresome."
"Traitor. You just squashed your chances at getting accepted into my harem."
"Thank you, Sir. I mean that from the bottom of my heart."
Charlie was not one for soul-searching gazes. He sought a change of subject to more neutral topics. "Tell me more about your trip through purgatory."
"A sad, unfortunate tale. It took a week to arrive by ship, but at least the place was as advertised. A transient hotel for people ascending to digital form. I could barely afford the price of admission, but they took my money and slotted me in at the bottom of the list. I assure you, that it was a long list," Monty said holding out the thermal cup again which Elva quickly refilled.
He drank about half before continuing. "Old people complain a lot, especially those standing at heaven's door. If it wasn't the hot weather, it was the rain, or lack of imported mineral water." Monty sighed and quickly drank the other half of his mug.
"Everyone there was a tech boom baby or a wealthy executive… or the wife of one. However, it was the truly rich that bought premium tickets. They got on the short list, and each one pushed my name lower and lower."
"It wasn't as if I was left in a room to rot, though I sometimes felt as much. Miguel was my ward. A nice boy who was handy at getting hard alcohol. I'd run out of my prescription pills about a week into the sojourn. They didn't give out meds, nothing stronger than aspirin anyway, so alcohol was the only alternative. I'd slip Miguel extra cash to bring me the good stuff."
"Miguel and I spent hours watching the local football team. He was a fan, and I wanted anything to distract myself from the pain." Monty admitted. Grace suddenly clutched at his arm like Monty would blow away in the wind. He reached up patting her hand.
"Two days ago, I was hauled from bed—still half drunk—and tossed into a wheelchair. I was halfway to the Gates of Heaven before I realized what was going on." He said pausing again to pat Grace's hand.
To the woman, he whispered, "It's what we jokingly called the Dive Rooms." Grace's deathlike grip loosened marginally, so Monty continued.
"My ascension to digital avatar came at the cost of another. The wife of an Indian diamond tycoon had passed away minutes before her dive. I suppose the thought of it was too much for her old heart. As you can imagine, they don't put much effort in saving people. Usually, they'd have just moved down the list, but Miguel had bribed the technicians with the money I'd been slipping him.
"It was a good thing too. I do not think I would have lasted another week. Without treatment the cancer was running rampant, eating my body alive." Monty paused again to get his cup refilled. He grinned to himself looking down at the mulled cider. "So there I found myself—blubbering like a child—as they pulled the dive helmet over my head."
"It worked, and that’s what matters. How was Paris?" Charlie asked, and Monty laughed.
"That pathetic attempt at historical Noir didn't appeal to me in the slightest. I pleaded with Alex to let me go. Not only did he give me his blessing, but he also returned my money. He said he wouldn't beggar a man to enter heaven."
"Did that also come with a change in appearance."
Monty laughed again and said, "When I logged in and looked at my face it seemed wrong. I didn't feel old anymore, so I took what little credits I had and altered my appearance."
Finally, he turned to Grace. "I looked for you at the Armory all day yesterday, but no one had even heard of you. I finally ran into someone who said they'd seen a statue in a fancy dress near the competition center."
She blushed and pressed her face to his chest. "Monty," she breathed. "Monty, I…"
The man stopped her with a kiss. Her fingers tightened on his gray jacket before Monty picked the woman up off the ground. She clung to his neck as he half turned. "If you'll excuse us, Grace and I need an hour to be properly reacquainted."
"It's good to have you back."
"I do declare; I am glad to ‘be’ back."
Monty started away toward a set of apartments with Grace still wrapped in the wool blanket, but paused after twenty steps. He half turned and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "We'd best make it two hours—for lost time."
"Don't be late for the event. It promises to be a good one." Charlie called after the man.
"That was the most romantic thing I've ever seen," Elva said sniffling. After a second she added, "nyan." Her cat whiskers were smudged as she wiped at her tears.
"I'm just glad it wasn't a romantic tragedy," Charlie replied.
"Should have just handcuffed the girl to his bed. That would have shown his love." Remy said from nearby. The short girl came out of the bushes and dusted herself off. Ivy leaves covered her small chest and groin. A wreath of flower blossoms crowned her head, and she held a star-tipped wand in her hand. On her back was a pair of flapping gossamer wings. Her innocent pixie costume was marred slightly by the heavy hardware she was carrying.
"I don't think you quite understand the word," Charlie said moving to the bench.
"I do too. It's when a man and a woman make googly eyes at each other. Then a stork comes and delivers a baby." Remy answered definitively.
"That's not love, or even romantic."
"Those two pretend to be all chaste, but as soon as the door shuts, they'll fuck each other's brains out." Remy countered.
Charlie shook his head and walked with his troop into the competition center. A display over the reception desk showed a countdown. In a little less than two hours, the Halloween event would start. Jen and Tobias were already waiting nearby. A flock of tuxedoed males surrounded Jennifer, who regally sat in a chair while they offered her drinks, fanned her, and massaged her bare shoulders. Tonight, she was dressed as a succubus in a red corset gown. Two horns stuck out from the sides of her head and curled back behind her ears. A red whip hung at her waist.
"I am not happy with you," Jennifer announced as she neared.
"And I haven't even opened my mouth yet," Charlie replied sitting in the second chair. The girls settled themselves about him, while Remy leaped atop a nearby console and kicked her legs.
"Because of you, I haven't logged into Blood and Pride in weeks. My clan barely recognized me when I showed up at the ball tonight."
Charlie laughed and said, "I can see why. Four incredibly handsome men to satisfy your every whim… and desire."
She glared at him again, and he laughed.
"I am glad to see you, Brother," Tobias said turning toward them. The man was wearing his heavy armor covered in Scripture. Gadreel was next to him, and had acquired a pair of miniature angel wings. They flapped and fluttered slightly as she hugged Tobias's arm. Two exquisitely beautiful and frocked nuns knelt next to the Crusader in prayer.
"At least someone is," Charlie said.
"I wonder if we’ll fight demons again tonight?"
"I didn't see any news on the Roth Channel, so it could be anything." Jennifer added touching the man's hands at her neck. Sebastian stepped back, and she relaxed in the seat.
"I forgot to mention, Monty is back. He should be joining us."
"Monty?" Tobias asked.
"A friend who was absent due to illness."
"We are a full squad, finally!" Remy cheered from nearby.
"Very true, and after the event, we can register as a clan," Charlie said sitting back. Elva climbed into his lap and started to purr. He reached up scratching her behind the cat ears while the conversation meandered back and forth; mostly about the Roth.
A little after an hour Monty showed up with a fully dressed Grace in tow. Introductions were quickly made. Charlie led his squad into the elevators and they found a relatively quiet place to wait for the Halloween Event.
[Event Starting]
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Halloween Pt
2
In the darkness, an opaque window appeared, "Please select a weapon." The list that followed consisted of his five contracted girls. Without a clear objective, the event could bring anything, so he selected his most versatile weapon—the M16.
Charlie's vision returned in a wash of sepia tones. It was as if he were looking through the lens of an ancient 16mm camera. Worst of all was the fact he couldn't move a muscle, and there was a moment of intense disorientation from the lack of control. He felt strange, as if his body had been reassembled into an unnatural configuration. Pieces locked together in a disjointed mess. Against one side there was a sensation of body heat which was accompanied by the sound of a beating heart. Charlie's other side felt as if it were freezing cold. His point of view blinked and looked around.
They appeared to be in a long concrete hallway, somewhere deep underground. Ice formed thick crystals along the walls and ceiling. The door nearby had an image of two circles, one dark grey with a smaller blue ring on the lower right side. Next to it were the words, "Svalbard Global Seed Vault." Finally, they looked down, and Charlie saw it was a female dressed in arctic combat clothes. She touched the fur-lined white jacket and slid the zipper up more tightly. Hanging via a fuzzy shoulder strap was a heavily modified M16a4.
"What's going on?" A voice asked. Charlie heard it as one listens to the chest of a lover, and he recognized the speaker.
"Fara," he said. The person jumped slightly and looked around again. Charlie wanted to laugh as understanding finally dawned. Their positions as Meister and weapon had suddenly flipped. It was no wonder he couldn't move—for tonight he was the M16. Elva had said they couldn't see or hear in weapon form, but the developers had obviously bent the rules a little for Charlie and the other players.
"It seems you get to do all the dirty work this time."
"I don't like this," Fara admitted in a whisper.
"You're always watching the Twilight Zone. This event is something strange and thought-provoking, so it should be right up your alley?"
Fara grabbed his grip, and it felt like someone was shaking his hand. Her pulse was steady, but already climbing with nervous anticipation. Breath exhaled from her in a bloom before she sucked in a biting cold lungful of air. With gloved fingers, she pulled back on the charging handle just enough to verify the chamber was loaded. Then it slid forward hard.
"Maybe when we get home I'll be the one that gets to bite you," Charlie said with a smirking voice.
"Shush."
"I'll bury my face between your legs and make you cry out in orgasmic bliss. Then I'll turn and sink my teeth into your thigh while you writhe in pleasure. It's only fair I take an equal portion." He said in a sly voice.
"I will disassemble you and scatter your pieces across the room."
"Feisty," He cooed. Their banter was cut short by the squalling blare from a nearby speaker. It warbled like an air raid siren before cutting off abruptly.
"Unknown ships attacking the earth. I repeat extra-terrestrial vessels are attacking the island. Gather together and defend the seed vault at all cost. We must save this agricultural stockpile for future generations."
"Well, at least you're defending," Charlie mused more to himself.
"What do I do?" Fara asked, and he laughed.
"You are the Meister; I am the tool. In this form I have no eyes to—" Charlie was interrupted by Fara shaking him violently, and he laughed again.
"If there's no one around, you might try looking outside." He suggested in a voice dripping with irony. Even if Charlie couldn't move, he found this situation highly entertaining. Although, if the Halloween event aimed at scaring him it was doing a poor job.
Fara turned back to the doorway and pushed down on the ice-covered handle. A shower of white crystals fell to the floor as it opened. Inside was a short circular airlock. She crossed to the second door and passed through. Just on the other side, several people turned pointing their guns at her. Grace was immediately recognizable via her complicated hairstyle, though she too wore arctic-camo. The southern belle was also carrying a heavy Kentucky rifle, and sighed audibly after realizing who Fara was. All of them appeared unnerved, so maybe this Halloween Event wasn’t for the players. Next to Grace was an unfamiliar woman with short brown hair and carried an MGL 32 grenade launcher. She had thin framed glasses perched on her nose which made her appear bookish.
Sebastian raised his massive Barrett M107, and casually rested it against his shoulder. Like the others, he wore a fur-lined camo outfit. Standing halfway up the ramp was a white-haired woman in heavy armor. Gadreel was half turned toward the entrance and aiming at it with the GAU-19B at her waist. She had no harness for the weapon but carried the cannon with ease.
The new girl—Missy, shook her grenade launcher and said, "For the last time, I will not lick you!"
"That weapon is defective. It should be dismantled and buried where it can’t hurt anyone." Fara suggested.
"If it weren't for the threat of painful death, I'd be highly tempted," Missy said letting the weapon fall against her on the sling.
"Toby says the demons will seek to burn our grain silos as they did in Jerusalem."
"They might not know what exactly is here, but they'll come. There is no cover to hide behind along this hallway. Hopefully, there's something resembling a defense perimeter outside." Charlie said to Fara.
"Charlie suggests going outside." Fara related. Everyone seemed to agree, so Fara took the lead. She shouldered the M16 and pushed the huge metal door open.
It was night, but an Aurora Borealis lit up the rocky landscape in shifting green hues. Tonight the weather was calm and clear. Everything would have been picturesque except for the alien apocalypse descending upon earth. Thousands of objects were streaking down into the upper atmosphere and leaving long contrails. There were so many ships it was impossible to take them all in at once. Somewhere in the direction of Russia dozens of ICBM missiles were launching skyward to meet the intruders. Red flashes licked out from the descending fighters, and one sluggish rocket faltered, skewing sideways, and fell back to earth. More were shot down as they converged together in a cluster. Suddenly there was a brief, brilliant flash of light and three massive round mushroom clouds formed in the air. A few unlucky alien ships were vaporized in the nuclear fire. More dropped like dead birds into the arctic ocean.
Before tonight, Charlie couldn't have imagined how America had fallen in days. That had seemed impossible to his patriotic mind, but now he understood. This was how it had been. The Roth had come with an armada vast enough to blanket the world in fighters and dropships. Even the success of Russia's nuclear ICBM's was little more than a token gesture. It made the four vessels Charlie had fought a paltry weekend skirmish. Nearby Missy shuddered at the sight, and her grip tightened on the grenade launcher.
"I'd like to go back inside," she said in a small voice.
"That's sadly not an option," Grace said pointing back. The bunker they stood before was purposefully designed to be seen at a great distance. A reflective installation caught the green aurora light and broadcast it out. The aliens would come at some point, and hiding inside would only bring their doom all the sooner.
High above Russian, Canadian, and American fighter craft were desperately battling the aliens. Lasers and missiles filled the sky in a violent, but brief orgy. From across the water, heavy lift Chinooks approached carrying tanks and anti-aircraft carriages. Smaller blackhawks carried American and Canadian troops. They flew low over the ocean waves attempting to avoid notice, but a dozen alien fighters aimed in their direction. A large dropship also turned toward the island. Barely a mile out from land the sleek black fighters caught up, and four escorting apache helicopters turned to confront the oncoming attackers. Air-to-air sidewinder missiles fired in smoking contrails, while lasers lanced out in return. The red beams sliced apart the Cobra gunships in a sizzling crackle. Most of the fighters dodged the missile attack, but two were caught by the Aim-9 missiles.
&
nbsp; Without protection, the troop transports were easy pickings for the two remaining fighters. Most crashed into the waves just short of the airport. Four Blackhawks dropped toward the rocky shore, and men threw themselves down the rappel lines. The more massive Chinooks had to slow first before dropping their heavy payloads. One twin bladed helicopter took a glancing hit. The rear engine caught fire, and it began to corkscrew. The Chinook overshot the airport heading toward the seed vault. Underneath the helicopter, the attached tank flailed on its tow cables. They strained, then snapped apart from the forces, and the M1 Abrams tumbled across the rocky ground toward them. It came to a steel splitting stop just below.
The Chinook spun again, and for a fraction of a second, desperate marines could be seen inside the open loading bay. It twisted overhead, passing them, before slamming into the mountain a hundred meters away. A fireball rose skyward as men and women were tossed free like broken GI Joe's.