Battlecraft VR

by Linden Storm

  Harold resumes his watching and praying, as the Untouchables begin to stalk the Wizards on a rough mountainside. The Untouchables control the high ground and have found a few poor weapons, but Paul has gotten lucky and snagged himself a decent crossbow and a few serviceable bolts. Harold hopes that’s all the advantage they’ll need.

  Rupert is talking on the phone in the back corner of the owner’s box, while Harold drifts closer to Gemma at her stool in front of the window. Gemma is drinking champagne and eating exotic foodstuffs like almond toast covered with eel roe, tiny glasses of white gazpacho, and raw fish on sticks.

  Harold’s stomach does flip flops. He’s reminded of being a kid, working up the courage to ask Meta out. He has no intention of asking Gemma out, but since hearing about the way she’d taken on the sherriff and his minions—and seeing how the Elven Knights of Zobilla went crazy for her signed poster—he’s become even more attracted to her.

  She’s something.

  He wonders if there’s any way they can be friends.

  “Gemma?” he says quietly, moving down and standing next to her.

  “Yes?”

  “Can I get you anything? There’s some fine-looking sourdough bread over there.”

  Gemma laughs. “Ah, Harold, you’re funny. I don’t eat bread. Except paper-thin slices as structural support for caviar.”

  Harold nods and they go back to watching the screen.

  “They’re doing all right so far, aren’t they?” Gemma says.

  “Indeed,” Harold says.

  They watch as the Untouchables attack the Australian team. In short order, they wipe it out with three of Paul’s efficient headshots, Belle’s arrow to a throat of the Wizard’s flex/healer, and William’s accurate spear throw to the back of their sniper, who has unwisely left his tree and tried to run away.

  Now they’re hunting a dragon. It’s early, but Harold imagines Marina and Bell have their reasons for this unorthodox strategy, even if J.T. and Lane are criticizing them vehemently for it.

  Harold clears his throat. “Gemma,” he says, “I feel as if I haven’t thanked you properly yet. I was thinking I could fill your freezer with meat or send you some of my fresh corn on the cob.”

  Gemma laughs again in that melodic, enthusiastic way that makes Harold want to laugh too—at least when he thinks he’s not the object of her derision. Like now.

  Harold’s crushed, and he knows it must show on his face.

  But she puts her arms around him and kisses him on the mouth.

  On the mouth!

  Her lips feel and taste delicious. Her good arm wraps his back, and her soft hand strokes his neck. The kiss lasts a good long time.

  “I wasn’t laughing at you, Harold,” Gemma says. “Well, maybe I was, a little. I’ve never been offered meat before, not the kind that goes in a freezer, anyhow.”

  Harold feels his face burning, but he manages to laugh along with her. “But let me do something for you. Let me offer you something you need or want. You saved our lives back there. I can’t let that go by without trying to thank you somehow.”

  “Now, if you were offering me something else delicious,” she says, in voice that sounds like a cat’s low purr.

  Harold is confused. She must be joking again. Her arm is still around his shoulders, and she is rubbing and squeezing his bicep.

  Plus, she’s looking into his eyes and blinking rapidly. Maybe she’s excited, Harold reasons, or maybe she’s having a hot flash—Meta had those—or has gotten something in her eye.

  He can feel her ribs against his side, the side of her small breast against his arm. She is warm and smells like cinnamon and tropical flowers.

  He is so attracted and so flabbergasted at the idea that she might be flirting with him, he forgets to breathe, then realizes he hasn’t been breathing and takes a giant breath.

  She laughs at that, too.

  Is she messing with him?

  He doesn’t care. She is close to him and she is not moving away.

  He touches her sling as gently as he can. “Does it still hurt?”

  “Like ten-ton vise, but this helps,” Gemma says, lifting her champagne glass.

  “Careful,” Harold says.

  Gemma nods. “You’re right, and I will be careful.” She pats his hand. “I’m not drunk, you know. I know exactly what I’m doing. And I want to tell you something.”

  “What’s that?” Harold says, excitement and wariness going to war in his gut.

  “I like you, Harold,” Gemma says.

  Harold feels his mouth drop open.

  “You like me?” he says.

  “I like you very much indeed,” Gemma says, nodding regally.

  Harold hears himself laughing out loud with sheer, shocked happiness. “I like you, too, Gemma,” he says.

  “So, what are we going to do about that?” she says.

  “I don’t know?” Harold says, blushing.

  “I suggest we spend some time together, Harold, just you and I,” she says.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Harold says. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to wipe the smile off his face.

  ∆∆∆

  One of Marina’s favorite strategies involves exploiting eccentricities—some would say glitches—of the game. She can sneak through rocky outcroppings that shouldn’t have room for her, shoot through walls that shouldn’t break, resurrect mounts that should have been permanently dead, turn medicine into poisons, and routinely steal spells, weapons, and armor from other players. But her greatest specialty is crafting, and she’s a better crafter than any player in the game because she combines materials in radically creative ways.

  What it comes down to is that she fools enemies in every way that’s possible and legal.

  And the minority of fans who hate her tactics are far outnumbered by the fans who love them.

  Upon landing, they had snagged a couple of small caches of weapons and supplies. Marina is phenomenally good at finding caches, having basically cracked the game’s formula for placing them.

  Marina had then outlined her plan to ambush the Wizards.

  Paul had climbed to the top of an outcropping and quickly taken out their three designated sharpshooters with long-range headshots. Headshots are not always immediately fatal, and sometimes players can be healed from them, but Paul had used explosive bolts Marina had made from a pouch of gunpowder, some mud and magic string, and regular crossbow bolts.

  Early in the game, without particularly good armor, they hadn’t been in a good position.

  But with the help of one of Marina’s quieting potions made from a wild stealth flower, Belle had snuck up on the Wizards’ flex/healer and shot him in the throat with an arrow before disappearing unhurt into a small cave. The sniper had been too far away to help the healer, and the healer had bled out quickly.

  With no healer and down a sharpshooter, the Australians were all but vanquished, but then Marina crafted a spear for William from a tree branch, and he’d hit their sniper in the back as he was trying to flee.

  And the Untouchables scored the first wipe of the game without losing a single player—without suffering even a single wound.

  “What do you suppose J.T. and Lane think about that?” Marina says to her team as they loot the Australian corpses.

  Everyone laughs. But Marina can tell they’re all nervous. They still need that flying mount, and the walls are shimmering not so far away as the map shrinks for the second time. She wants more than anything to win for Gemma and Harold and Rupert, too, and for all their fans.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It Doesn’t Get

  Any Better Than This

  Harold watches the Lords make short work of the Nukes.

  Fortunately, Harold thinks, the Nukes did manage to eliminate one of the Lords’ designated sharpshooters. Still, four Lords of the Imperium Continuum should not be underestimated.

  In the lull while the Untouchables search for a mount and the other two teams hunke
r down for a pitched battle, Harold stands with Rupert and Gemma near the big screen and listens to the commentary.

  “It now only comes down to three teams,” Lane. says. “And only one team will be raising the trophy and taking home the top prize of just over four million bucks.”

  “All I can say for sure right now,” J.T. says, “is that, out of the three remaining teams, the Untouchables cannot possibly win. It’s astounding, really, that with the wipe of the Wizards and the elimination of the Nukes by the Lords, the Untouchables are now in the top three and thus are guaranteed nearly a million and a half, a respectable prize. But to go any farther, now they need a flying mount. They need lucky drops. They need everything.”

  “True, J.T. But to add to their troubles, the rumor is that the Untouchables negotiated a terrible contract with their sponsor, Rupert Jones Jr., formerly the CEO of Spigot Games. They won’t be seeing much of that million and a half.”

  “Yes, apparently the wily Mr. Jones is a billionaire for a reason,” J.T. says, snickering.

  “Whatever the prize, though, the Untouchables have an impossible task ahead of them,” Lane says, staring into the camera and grimacing. “The Nukes tried to take the Lords out early, but that did not work out for them, although they did manage put one of the Lords down. Still, right now the Lords need to have a bad game and the other two teams need to have a great game in order to have any chance.”

  J.T. brays loudly. “That’s for sure, Lane.” He looks into the camera. “I wouldn’t do it. If I was in the money I wouldn’t do it.”

  “I’m with you there,” Lane says. “If the Untouchables happen upon the Lords or M5 in one of the fortified areas where they’re hunkered down and established, I think it’s safe to say we’ll see an absolute massacre.”

  “But what choice do they have?” J.T. says. “The Untouchables are still on the outskirts of the map. They have to flee from the shrinking walls. When they inevitably encounter one of the other teams, they’ll be fighting teams that are much more experienced and hunkered down in good positions, and, well, just…better.”

  “Indeed,” Lane says, “look what’s happening now.”

  Harold turns his attention to the gameplay screen as Lane’s voice drops dramatically, almost to a whisper. “Wait a minute…If we take a look right now, the Untouchables have somehow, miraculously, found their flying dragon and they are headed into the territory currently occupied by the Russian team, a very tough team, the Moscow Five. That’s a huge advantage, having a flying mount.”

  “That’s right, Lane,” J.T. says. “But a flying mount is not a panacea. Right now, M5 is lying in wait, occupying a fortress ruin in good position and undoubtedly with some excellent supplies, gear, and weapons to the ready. Can you say ‘annihilation,’ Lane?”

  “I’ll tell you this. If the Untouchables fly right up to M5 in that fortress, there will be a wipe. I don’t think even the Untouchables’ two devious co-captains have an answer for that type of an advantage. They’ll lose their dragon and their lives.”

  Harold tears his gaze away from the screens and turns to Rupert. “That’s what they’re going to do, though, right? They have to go after M5 first.”

  Rupert nods. “The Wizards and the Nukes are out. Now it’s just the Lords and M5, and M5 are between our guys and the Lords in the center. They don’t have much of a choice but to attack M5, loot their gear, and then move in on the Lords...” Rupert shrugs. “They basically have no chance. We should just be proud that they got this far, Old Man.”

  Harold shakes his head. “Once again, you’re wrong, my boy. Why are you wrong all the time?”

  Rupert grins. “Who has the hat, though?” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the RoadTrek hat, then shoves it on his head. It’s filthy and torn.

  “Give me that,” Harold says.

  “Admit I’m right and I will,” Rupert says.

  “That’ll never happen. The team’s going to win, and I’m going to end up with the hat. You watch.”

  “If they win, you can have the hat forever, Old Man.” Rupert throws his head back and laughs.

  Harold laughs, too, but in that moment, he realizes he’s not kidding about the win. It’s going to take some doing, all right. But if anyone can do it, Marina and Belle can. They’re both amazing players, but Marina is a genius. The both of them working seamlessly together should not be underestimated.

  ∆∆∆

  Marina has been saving several tricks, and she doesn’t think anyone will see them coming.

  She’s sure they’re all legal—she’d run them by the judging committee in advance, a prudent move.

  The fans and commentators don’t always know that, though. They’ll probably get some flak for what they’re about to do.

  Their biggest problem right now is that through their scope they’ve spotted M5 players occupying a castle ruin that is surrounded by a moat. There is no cover within range—even Paul’s sniping range. The Untouchables have one flying mount, but if they lose it, if it gets shot out of the air, they’ll be unable to use it later against the Lords.

  And they’re going to need that dragon against the Lords.

  Marina has given the signal, and now they’re all on the dragon, which is flying low toward M5’s fortress.

  “I’ll bet they’ve already counted us out,” Nick says.

  “But we are not out,” Marina says on a whisper channel that only Belle can hear. “Belle, listen to this plan. We can decide together what to do and then present it to the rest of the team.”

  Belle listens intently as Marina begins to fill her in.

  ∆∆∆

  “We said at the very start that we were going to need someone at the bottom to go after teams at the top and eliminate them, or we were going to have a boring match,” J.T. says.

  “And that’s what has happened,” Lane says. “The Untouchables, a team at the bottom for sure, have so far stepped up for that coveted role of spoiler. The Australians weren’t that tough to kill, but the Russian team, M5, is so much better.”

  “In a completely different class,” J.T. says. “Experienced, battle-hardened, and smart. It’ll be fun to watch them wipe out the Untouchables, and then we’ll get down to the real game, which will be M5 versus the Lords. With the Lords down one player, M5 might just have a chance.”

  Lane shakes his head. “I don’t think so, J.T. the Lords are last year’s champions and they badly want back-to-back wins.”

  “Indeed, Lane,” says J.T., shaking his head and frowning melodramatically. “I wouldn’t want to be M5 right now, but I would want to be the Untouchables even less.”

  ∆∆∆

  Belle pushes a strength dart into the dragon’s neck. It’s difficult for a dragon this size to carry five players such a long distance, but it’s doable. She doesn’t want the match to drag on longer than necessary, giving the other two teams more time to accumulate weapons, gear, and supplies.

  Periodically, William or Nick parachutes off the dragon to raid a cache, and she circles back to pick them up, but other than taking time for those detours, she keeps the dragon flying northeast toward M5’s position.

  Marina’s plan is completely original, and Belle thinks it can work. Belle gives Marina the go-ahead to share the strategy with the rest of the team.

  Belle’s biggest question is why Marina hadn’t told her about the plan before. But then, Marina has shown herself to be a secretive person. Belle has no objection to secrets unless they end up gifting her with a negative surprise, and Marina has already made that mistake. Repeatedly. The hope is that she’s learned her lesson.

  “I didn’t know if I could find the supplies I needed to make it work,” Marina says. “It was just one creative strategy among many, and I set them all out in a memo to the judging panel in advance. I have their official rulings filed.”

  “Then we are good to go,” Belle says. “As long as you don’t have any more secrets up your sleeve.”

  “This is
all,” Marina says.

  “And?” William says.

  “And what?” Belle says.

  “And what do we say?” William says in a sing-song voice.

  “Good job, Marina?” Belle says.

  “That’s right,” Nick says.

  “Thanks,” Marina says. “But I’d prefer it if you all would save your thanks until the trick works.”

  “I wonder what Harold will say when he sees this,” Belle says, smiling wickedly. “I’d love to see his reaction.”

  ∆∆∆

  Harold is pacing back in forth in front of the main screen, which is showing the Untouchables riding Belle’s dragon. They can all barely fit on the dragon’s back, and Nick is hanging on for dear life to the tail.

  “Why so tense, Harold?” Gemma says. “Our team is very good, isn’t it?”

  Harold pats Gemma’s shoulder and she winces.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I’m an idiot.”

  “No, you’re a dear,” Gemma says. “Now, tell me why our team is in such dire straits.”

  “Well,” Harold says, thinking about how to explain the danger to someone who’s not conversant with the game. “They’re nearly to the fortress, where they’ll have their confrontation with the Russians. M5 is a tough team with probably the second-greatest sniper in the game—after Ryu of the Lords.”

  “Better than Paul?”

  “That’s debatable,” Harold says, acknowledging her point. “But M5 is occupying a fortress ruin, which gives them good cover and the high ground. Plus, they’ve had time to find plenty of high-level weapons and supplies as our team makes their way toward the center of the map.”

  “Ah, I see,” Gemma says. “But I thought the Lords of the Impish Cohabiters were the team to beat.”

  “Good one,” Harold says, laughing. “It’s true that the Lords is the team to beat, but M5 is between our team and the Lords. With the map shrinking, there’s not much room to go around. In any case, they really should fight M5 first so they can loot their weapons and supplies.”

  “Ah,” Gemma says, nodding.