I didn’t go to any effort, just answered briefly:
“Nothing… No comment… That’s not true…”
After the interview, I went to my room to rest, collapsed onto my bed as soon as I walked in. I’d been through a lot in the last year and a half, but the Demonic Games were something else. My body didn’t seem to be able to produce hormones fast enough for me to feel proper emotions, and I’d fallen into dull indifference. I didn’t even have the strength to get up and take a shower.
It was all getting to me. I wanted to go back to November last year, when my biggest problem was a talking-to from Mr. Kovac or teasing from the Dementors. Lessons, movies about space, sitting with Eva on the bench outside the Bubbling Flagon… Suddenly I felt an overwhelming desire to see my parents, hug them and hold them. I wanted mom to stroke my head and dad to tell me cheerfully ‘everything will be okay, son.’
I didn’t feel sorry for myself. I chose this path. It would have been very easy to accept Kiran’s offer, or to not resist when the Alliance was harassing all the noobs in the Darant town hall. I’d solved all my financial problems and achieved my initial goal. Only failing my citizenship tests would stop me going to university now, and I wouldn’t fail them. I was sure there was still enough time to make up for what I’d missed out, and there wasn’t even much to make up for — I could cram the material in a month or two. But the ever increasing uncertainty, the feeling of being always suspended above an abyss, the growing dangers — now not only from the Triad, the Cartel and the Preventers, but from Snowstorm itself… It all took its toll.
That was the mood I was in when I heard a careful knock at the door.
“Contestant Michelle Ardi,” the room’s AI helper reported, projecting a holographic dossier of my guest before me. “Select option: open, report your absence…”
“I’ll deal with it,” I answered, rising from the bed.
As soon as I opened the door, Michelle slipped inside. Looking around, she opened the minibar, pulled out a bottle of red wine and offered it to me. I stood there dumbly for a few seconds, then realized I was expected to open it. I took the bottle and went to look for a corkscrew. Only now did I pay attention to the clothes and dirty socks strewn around the room. Blushing, I kicked them under the bed as I walked past.
“So peaceful and quiet here,” Michelle said. “I flew in with my girlfriends, they put us in three adjoining rooms. Every day’s a party! Why’s it so boring here?”
“Well… You usually need friends to have parties. But I’m not bored, you know. I got so carried away last night that I nearly slept through the Games.”
“Oh yeah? What were you up to?” she drawled playfully. “Watching the adult channel?”
“Drawing,” I answered almost honestly, retreating toward the table covered with sketched sheets of paper.
I hid my diagrams and strategies in a drawer, found a corkscrew and only then realized my mistake: the bottle cap was a screw-type.
Throwing the cap into the trashcan, I held out the bottle to Michelle, saw her amused look of confusion and smiled awkwardly. A glass! I found one, half filled it and handed it to the girl. Then I dug around in the minibar, moved aside a bottle of soda and found a few different beers. And now even my sense of caution didn't resist — I grabbed a can of German lager.
“I’m in no hurry,” Michelle reassured me. “Mind if I smoke?”
I shook my head and she took out a cigarette. They used to kill people at the start of the century, but modern filters made smoking safe, fully absorbing all the tar and toxicity from the smoke. Michelle drew on it with palpable pleasure, breathed out the scent of tobacco mixed with herbs.
We talked. The girl spoke of herself — of how she’d always dreamed of singing, but the vocal tutors said her range was too weak, just one octave, her voice and ears weren’t coordinated, the timbre was a little off. She should take up something else, they said. Only in Dis did things start working out for her. And so well that her songs were played on the radio even in real life. A year ago, Sony Music offered Michelle a contract to write an album, and the singer’s career skyrocketed.
It took more than half an hour for her to tell me all that. Michelle Ardi bounced from subject to subject, recounting funny anecdotes from her life in detail. I didn’t have anything in particular to brag about: a schoolkid in an ordinary school, average grades, then a Threat and legate of the Destroying Plague, then my departure from the faction.
“I can’t tell you anything more,” I sighed.
“I get it,” Michelle nodded and got up from her chair. “Would you show me to the washroom?”
I led her to the bathroom door and opened it. Michelle stepped inside, then turned around sharply. She stood up on her tiptoes, threw her arms around my neck and kissed me full on the lips. Before I knew what was going on, she shut the door behind me and broke away from me.
“What was that for?” I cried. “I have a girlfriend! What will she think? How am I supposed to explain?”
“She’ll get it. But let everyone else think there’s something between us,” she smiled. “So why do you need the essence?”
I figured I’d have to answer that question sooner or later, and had prepared, thought long about what to say and what not to. I decided to share what I knew:
“The Destroying Plague. Do you know how it affects non-citizens?”
“You mean the racial bonuses?”
“No. More like hardware penalties. Non-citizens who turn undead get sick with something that causes tissue necrosis. They die, Michelle!”
“What? How do you know?”
“Just believe me. Or don’t, I don’t care, the main thing you have to understand is that the Destroying Plague threatens the lives of real people, not just NPCs.”
“And how will the essence help you?”
“I have a quest to destroy the Nucleus of the Destroying Plague. I need Concentrated Life Essence to complete it.”
“Wait, wait!” Michelle turned on the water and lit another cigarette. “You mean to tell me that you entered the Games just to save some inwinova?”
“Yes.”
“Now it all fits.” She laughed nervously, bit her lip. “We’ve all been wondering: what the hell do you need the Games for? Really, Alex, you’re a star already! With your Threat abilities… Well, what could you get out of winning? Judging by what you offered all of us, you aren’t in dire need of three thousand stat points. Demon Fighter? Well… I don’t know. The rewards are good for us, but for you? The risk of getting Hell’s Curse is high! And you knew what you were getting yourself into! That you wouldn’t have your imba abilities, that people wouldn’t want you here… The whole internet wanted to see you disgraced!”
“Believe me, I would have rather not entered. This whole place is a pain in my ass! I have so much to do back in Dis! And the citizenship tests are coming up!”
“I believe you.” Her French accent cut through again. “Because your tale of the Destroying Plague is the only explanation. Or are you a masochist, like Mogwai?”
“No, I hate pain!”
“I didn’t mean that exactly, but okay.” Michelle took a long drag, breathed out a cloud of smoke and threw the butt into the toilet. She flushed the filter off on its journey, then washed her hands. “Thanks for sharing. It’s terrible! The inwinova are a burden to us all, of course, but they’re still people! I have relatives in the Marseilles Ghetto, and I really wouldn’t want any of them to get hurt… I have to warn everyone!”
The girl’s eyes flashed like those of a soldier ready to attack or a fighter preparing for a match. I mentally rubbed my hands — just what I’d been hoping for. Michelle was impulsive, with an acute sense of justice, and she had a huge audience of fans…
“I’ll write a song,” she said, as if that was that solved. “And now, my dear friend, let’s go have some fun!” she began to sing. “You’re only sixteen, time to go dancing in the sun!” Apparently, she liked how it sounded. She repeate
d the lines of her future song, adding: “Talking! Walking! Singing life’s song! Not worrying about righting society’s wrongs!”
Michelle took me by the arm and led me decisively out of the bathroom, then out into the hallway. But I dug my heels in at the door to my room:
“No! I don’t wanna! It’s night already, I need to sleep!”
“Either you come with me or I’ll tell the whole world that you and I did stuff! Hee-hee! I’ll tell them all that you didn’t know what to do and that you’re… heh heh… too fast!”
Chapter 17. Boom Boom!
MICHELLE’S THREAT worked. I didn’t care about her insults and implications (sure, I was at level one of rank zero in that skill, it would be dumb to deny it), but I really didn’t want to hurt Rita.
“At least tell me where you want to take me.”
“To the club, of course! Where else? We’re going to drink, dance and cut loose! Maybe we’ll meet one of our allies — you did want to discuss strategy, right? And it’s so loud there that the viewers won’t hear a thing…”
It seemed she was no longer worried who thought what. In the corridor, Michelle stopped by one of the camera drones, looked straight into it and waved.
“I’m talking to Scyth’s girlfriend now. That kiss in his room, in case you saw it, that was all me. You have a great boyfriend…” She turned to me: “What’s her name?”
“Over,” I answered, deciding to use Irita’s old game nick as a codename she would understand. “Just Over.”
“What a curious name…” Michelle looked back at the camera. “So anyway, Over, I just had to surprise him, it was for business. Alex will explain when he gets back.”
Finished, the girl led me to the elevators. By this time, the corridors of the living quarters had emptied: the contestants were either in their rooms or partying on the recreation level. I couldn’t get those three gankers I’d be meeting tomorrow out of my head.
“You don’t happen to know Smoothie, Phobos and Riker, do you?” I asked as we walked into the elevator.
“The Ditch champions? I know them, they’re cool. Why? Oh, right! The ones who attacked you in the forest, that was them?”
“Yeah. We were kicked out of Dis in the heat of a battle I was losing. After dinner they came over and invited me to their place. To discuss something, they said.”
“Oh, Alex, who haven’t they invited over?” Michelle took on a mysterious expression and snickered. “Do you like them? You find them attractive? Non? Then you have a problem. You haven’t been farming exp, you’re on your last life. You’re at level one still… Those three are what, level twenty? Can you fly away as soon as you log in tomorrow?”
“Only if the penalty allows it…”
“Oh Nether, yeah, you’re the worst player of the day too!” Michelle emitted some complex French curse word that the comm immediately translated, toning down the particularly juicy parts.
“There’s another problem too.” Smoothie has this Ephemeral Web of Pacification. If she manages to get it over me…”
The elevator doors opened and we walked out onto the recreation level, which shattered my concept of the word. The idyllic landscape had changed, transforming the floor into something more reminiscent of a downtown street at night, the lights of animated billboards and holographic adverts gleaming down on swaying crowds of people. The floor shook with bass vibrations. There were fewer than three hundred contestants left, but each of them had flown in with a support group, and they had plenty of time on their hands to kick back.
“How about this? If we don’t find our guys in the club, I’ll tell them about you in the morning. When they find out you’re in trouble, they’ll be forced by the contract to help,” Michelle said quietly, smiling to someone.
Acquaintances greeted the girl warmly and looked at her companion — me — with surprise. She kept leading me down toward the end of the ‘street,’ exchanging greetings and funny in-jokes as she went.
“That’s Boom Boom,” she said, although the club’s name was already lighting up the sky with all the colors of the rainbow. “Anything goes inside except violence, but even that’s allowed if both sides agree first.”
“How’s that?”
“It’s the only place in the hotel where you can fight without getting thrown out of the Games. Ever been in a club like this? Non? Then stay close to me, or else… Well, if anyone takes a shine to you, don’t agree to a fight, just call a guard…”
Michelle pulled me forward, the doors opened and I found myself in some cauldron of hell — a giant room with a rectangular bar at its center, a dance floor and several stages surrounding it, with comfortable tables and sofas by the walls. Deafening music beat against my ears, the bass shaking my teeth and sending shivers down my spine. Bright flashes of light gave way to pitch darkness intersected with laser beams, the people wreathed in clouds of smoke.
Strippers danced on special platforms. Waitresses walked through the hall in holographic costumes of various races. Long-legged elves elegantly strolled with trays full of wine glasses. Some goblin girls, fairly attractive for their species, darted around the dance floor with some smokey strange mixtures. Fairies on rollerskates flitted by with cocktails. A cute orc girl danced along, serving tequila and letting contestants lick salt off her; a nymph-like gnome girl invited all comers to drink up, offering a tray of vodka shots and pickles.
I decided not to mix my drinks and took a glass of dark dwarven ale from a short and shapely dwarf girl. Michelle opted for red wine.
The place teemed with life. Light flashed, transforming human figures into two-dimensional black shadows. Colors changed, beams shot down from all angles. It was hard to make out anyone in the crowd, and I wasn’t really trying.
Michelle opened an app on her comm, exchanged messages with someone and asked:
“What is your relationship with Hellfish?” she had to shout into my ear. “You’re both partners with the Travelers and Modus, right? You know, even if we’re in time to help you, Smoothie, Phobos and Riker won’t be alone. They’re in Destiny’s group! That old bitch won’t miss her chance to get back at you.”
“Hellfish’s group can help… But where do we find them?”
“You’re like a little kid, Alex! Come on,” she glanced sideways at a fairy drone offering a ‘wide assortment of relaxing, invigorating and accelerating potions,’ pressed herself against me and spoke into my ear: “Have you even used the demonic comm yet? You see the minimap? There’s Hellfish’s marker, he’s right there, on the second floor. And put your arms around me, damn it! Why are you so stiff?!”
I obediently put my hand on her waist and we made like a couple in love, walking past the sofas where contestants smoked shisha pipes, then past the striptease area where girls spun on poles, also dressed as Disgardium characters.
The largest audience was gathered around a gigantic orc girl with melon-like — both in color and size — breasts. She was impressively flexible, and the pole impressively strong to hold her weight. It must have been reinforced. Among her fans I noticed the drooling jockey Frankie. He was furiously showering the dancer with phoenixes, waving them onto her from his comm. I nearly tripped — I never would have suspected his tastes!
Michelle led me upstairs, and the music grew even louder. Now the bass didn’t just vibrate down my spine, but all through my body, and the melody — it was amazing! It seemed to be at just the right frequency, calming, driving away anxiety and dark thoughts.
On the second floor, we reached a table surrounded by sofas and chairs. Hellfish and Anna were seated there, overlooking the dance floor. They were kissing. Filex and Olaf sat on another sofa unmoving, their eyes closed. Koba snored in one chair and Alison Wu slept in another, her feet up on an armrest. Drool trickled from the girl’s open mouth. The other group members were nowhere to be seen.
Approaching, I turned my head in confusion: the music suddenly seemed dulled in some mysterious way, as if playing somewhere far off. Some re
al-life equivalent of a Dome of Silence?
“Hey!” Michelle said, getting their attention. “Vito, Alex needs to talk to you.”
Hellfish raised his head, casting a dim, uncomprehending gaze my way. He didn’t even look at Michelle. I’m going to walk round the floor, see who else is here, she whispered, disappearing into the darkness.
The Traveler finally recognized me.
“Oh, you’re here too…” he muttered disappointedly. “Celebratin’ your… your miracle r-rescue, buddy?”
He was close to Yary in age, and because he didn’t hide his gray hairs, he looked very old, especially now, drunk and high. And he barely moved his tongue as he spoke.
“We need to talk, Vito. I’m going to need your help tomorrow…”
“What? “H-h-help?” Hellfish echoed me, tripping over his own tongue. “You gone nuts, kid? Your limit f-f-for h-help is… maxed out!”
The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series Page 27