Keuketon seemed to have realized this, because he threw himself at Xenatlas as soon as the glow had faded from Xenatlas’s horns, lashing out with his stinger wings. I watched their fight out of the corner of my eye as I sped around, destroying more and more of the city. We didn’t have to defeat Xenatlas, we just had to destroy the city first, and Keuketon seemed to have accidentally found the best way to do that.
The avian kaiju’s stingers did more damage now that Xenatlas’s HP pool was lower, though not a whole lot. It wasn’t their damage, though, so much as the position they put him in. Xenatlas was undoubtedly more powerful than either of our kaiju, but he was slow, and his weaponry was designed for close range. His special attack was also catastrophic, but it took some time to launch. Keuketon’s mid-range weaponry and speed kept him running circles around Xenatlas.
When the gigantic kaiju’s horns and rage meter flashed, Keuketon struck with his stingers. They both struck Xenatlas’s shoulder and the attack went wide. I felt myself grinning.
The grin died an instant later.
Xenatlas twisted and struck with his digging claws at Keuketon’s segmented appendages just above where they sank into his own body. The bone-wings snapped like twigs, spraying viscous ichor as their tips came away and the feathered kaiju staggered back, shrieking.
Xenatlas closed, struck, and sent Keuketon sprawling across the wreckage of what remained of a city block. His HP dropped down to a sliver.
I struck.
Not because I was trying to save Keuketon. The reward of my own off the books bank account was too important to risk just to keep his feathered ass in the game. No, I attacked because Xenatlas was distracted. His HP was low and still dropping. If I could eliminate him, the rest of the city would fall to Halira in no time. My future would be secured.
“Die you oversized cockroach!”
Xenatlas predicted my attack.
He spun as I rushed him, bringing his horns around to gore me.
I slashed with Halira’s less wounded set of scythe-claws. Their crystalline edges struck the incoming horns, slicing through them even as they shattered. Her two talons severed two of the horns, spraying ichor. That still left one and it caught Halira low in the thigh.
The force of it sent her, airborne and she spun, but our speed was such that we kept spiraling forward. We still had one talon left.
I used the momentum of our spin and lashed out. The claw cut deep, biting through his exoskeleton to lodge in his body where it broke off.
Halira crashed to the ground and tumbled. Her HP bar was a red sliver and that damn music began chiming over and over.
I looked up.
Xenatlas was down on one knee. The horn on his head and one shoulder were bleeding stumps and Halira’s claw stuck out from his side like a sword. He glared at me. His HP was in the red and falling. The venom was still working. There wasn’t time for him to fire off another energy attack.
“I won’t forget this,” he said through a rumbling snarl that made Halira’s crystals vibrate.
“You better not, dickhead,” I snapped back.
His HP hit zero. He fell over and vanished as he hit the ground.
I laughed. We’d done it.
Congratulations, Miss Church, Mr. Australia said. You have leveled up.
There weren’t a lot of alien defenses left after Xenatlas died. I almost wished there were more. Just knocking everything over quickly grew tedious.
Wrecking the rest of the city was harder without claws. I had to resort to lashing side to side with Halira’s tail as she ran past the buildings. She was too low on health to risk ploughing through them like Xenatlas had done, and without her claws, she was limited to extremely close-range weaponry. I liked her Desiccation Ray, but it definitely would have been nice to have something that actually dealt damage to speed up this whole process. I mean damn. Fighting Xenatlas had been way more fun than going around kicking over buildings and trying not to get bombed while Keuketon laughed in the background.
The laughter was contagious, and I found myself joining in as the last building collapsed.
Another chime went off. You have leveled up again, Miss Church. You appear to be…on a roll.
The AI’s stuttering use of slang had me laughing harder still.
I was a giant fucking dinosaur-lizard thing covered in salt crystals and bleeding from dozens of injuries. I had actual smoke curling from my body and blood weeping from my gored thigh which made me limp as I stepped out of the destruction to rejoin Keuketon. I was a monster, I was a mess, and I’d wrecked some serious mother fucking shit.
“If Daddy could just see his little treasure now,” I said through my laughter.
Keuketon cocked his head, looking as thoughtful as a creature like him could be. Something shown in his eyes that I didn’t care for. “Treasure, huh?”
His voice was slimy when he said it and I immediately regretted my slip. Playing a game together didn’t make us friends.
“Forget I said anything,” I replied, my laughter dying away.
His kaiju looked at me like a rooster would look at a beetle it was thinking about plucking up.
“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think I will…Lusitania.”
Chapter Nine
I don’t know what I expected to happen after that.
I logged out of the game, spent about twenty minutes hyperventilating, then said fuck it and unfriended Keuketon. It didn’t matter that he’d recognized me in the game. He couldn’t prove it was me, and so what if he could? There wasn’t a lot he could do with the information. Or so I told myself.
A week went by, and life went on. I played twice more, at first with trepidation, and then with relief. Isabella commented that I wasn’t being nearly so bitchy, which I actually laughed at. Like a real laugh. The game was working. I had my emotions under control, and I had the promised bank account in the Caiman Islands. Admittedly, there wasn’t anything in it, but I promised myself that would change soon.
The real change hit unexpectedly and was a lot less welcome than a boatload of money.
I walked out of the English building after a morning class to find Irwin Collier waiting for me, leaning against one of the huge white columns that contrasted so sharply with the red brick of the building.
He was dressed simply and elegantly. Polo shirt, slacks, a Rolex. It was the kind of look that screamed casual money and had plenty of my fellow female students giving him surreptitious glances. The hyper-casual attire of the students made him stand out even more.
I hoped that it would allow me to blend in. I’d forgone my usual sundress in favor of shorts and an oversized t-shirt that all but covered them. Falling behind a trio of giggling brunettes, I tried to get around him unnoticed.
It didn’t work. Irwin’s dark eyes found and followed me like a compass needle pointing north.
“How you doing there, Princess?” he called out, freezing me in my tracks.
A chill swept over me. It started in my stomach and flowed through my veins. I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. My fingertips were icy against my palms. He’d called me Princess. He’d called me that before, at Daddy’s fundraiser. He said it this time with a different intonation, one that I couldn’t help but recognize from somewhere else.
A moment later, the other students had departed, and we were left alone in the walkway up to the building.
“Irwin,” I said, making my voice pleasant. “How was prison?”
His warm grin turned cold. “Like the Shawshank Redemption. You would not believe the shit I had to go through to get here.”
“Seems like a lot of trouble,” I replied sweetly. “What’s it all for? You didn’t come all this way just to see little old me. Don’t you have school?”
“Actually, I dropped out. Found a much better way to make money and get what I want than wasting time studying.” He pulled away from the column and closed the distance between us in
a few long, easy strides. In a heartbeat, he was inside my personal space. “We have some unfinished business.”
“We do?” I could knee him in the balls. He was close enough. I could knee him in the balls, and then claw for his eyes. Or maybe I should run. I hated that idea. What would I say I was running from when asked? For that matter, how could I justify attacking him? He was close but not doing anything threatening.
I met his eyes, and I saw something there I was too familiar with. Desire. He wanted me, but it was more than lust. It was a sense of…possession. Irwin wanted to own me. He looked at me and didn’t see a person, he barely even saw a woman. He saw a trophy. Something he could claim as his own and use at his leisure.
The urge to gouge out his eyes grew. If I hadn’t been playing the game, I don’t think I could have maintained my control nearly so well as I did.
“Oh yes, Halira,” he said. “We definitely do.”
Damn it. “Hal-what?”
His grin widened. It made me think of a shark. Sharp and hungry. “I wonder how Daddy will take it when he learns what you’ve been up to.” He shook his head. “You were using some pretty crude language in that game.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You came here to tell me that you’re going to tattle on me to Daddy for being a potty mouth?” I shook my head. “You’re really not making any sense, Irwin.” I lowered my voice and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did you take something before coming here?”
“It’s funny,” he said, “you really do have to watch out. Some people will just slip things into your drink.”
You’d know, you creepy bastard. Someone really should have castrated him before now. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. Some creep actually tried that on me at one of Daddy’s parties.”
“It’s funny, how you keep mentioning your father.” Irwin reached into his pocket and produced his phone. He fiddled with it for a moment then held it up, revealing a video on the screen. “You think he, or maybe his supporters, would be interested in seeing this?”
It was me. The video was taken through my bedroom window. I was in my sleepwear and thrashing about on my bed. Spittle flew from my mouth as I snarled and snapped. My phone was in my hand, but I wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore. My eyes were glazed over and unfocused. It looked like I was having a fit.
I’d only thought my insides were cold before. They were frozen now. I’d have given anything to have Halira’s claws, so that I could slice open this fucker’s throat.
I pulled my eyes from the phone screen and as I did, I noticed something. A pale scar at the base of his palm, barely a centimeter long. It was identical to my own. I’d already suspected that he was Keuketon, but that sealed it.
Irwin hadn’t gone to jail. He’d been approached by Dr. Warden, or someone like him, and made an offer just like mine. Your problem goes away if you play our game and give us data. Also, we’ll reward you for doing random shit with tons of money.
Or you could ask for something else. “What did you ask them for?”
He grinned. “I knew you couldn’t be as vapid as you pretend. You’re not as smart as you think you are either, but nobody’s that dumb.”
He reached up and stroked a lock of my hair with his finger. It took everything I had not to recoil, and then I had to fight just as hard to keep from biting that damn finger off. We were being watched. There was no way we weren’t.
“It wouldn’t take a lot of digging to find some evidence of what you did to my parent’s house.” His voice turned cold and cutting. “You psychotic bitch.”
He trapped my lock of hair in his fist and squeezed but was careful not to yank. He couldn’t look improper. Only I could see how his knuckles turned white and a vein bulged in his neck.
“I’m a man who knows what he wants, and who’s not afraid to take it.” He stepped in close so that our bodies were almost touching. “I asked them for you, Lusitania Church. And now you’re mine.”
I narrowed my eyes and felt my upper lip curl. “The hell I am, you date-raping needle-dicked pile of shit. Does it do something for you when the girl’s unconscious?”
I hadn’t thought his grin could grow. It did, becoming downright toothy. His eyes took on a far-off quality. I’d made him remember something. “Like I said, I know what I want. I want control. And now I control you.”
He gave my hair a gentle tug and let go, stepping away. “You’re going to re-friend me on Kaiju Wars. Then you’re going to go shopping for a nice new dress. We’ll have our first date this weekend. No need to wear panties.”
I crossed my arms and glared at up him. “You seriously think you’ve got enough to fucking blackmail me? Your dick might make a maggot laugh, but you’ve got a pair on you.”
“I know I’ve got enough on you,” he said with a smirk that made me want to take a shower. Or a thousand. “You’re Daddy’s little princess after all.”
That shit sucking piss stain!
My thought must have shown on my face because he laughed. Laughed. One day I was going to rip his throat out, and I’d savor the sound of him gurgling while the light left his eyes.
“I’ll see you Friday,” he said. “Or should I say, you’ll see me? Cause I’ll be watching you. Like fucking Santa Clause. I know when you are sleeping. I know when you’re awake.”
He turned and walked away with a little wave. “See you in Monster Land!”
Chapter Ten
I stood amidst the wreckage of the destroyed city and roared.
The act was almost as therapeutic as destroying the city in the first place.
It wasn’t just Halira who roared, although she did. I screamed too. Somehow my screaming melded with her own bellow to become the sound of fury incarnate, so forceful it disturbed the smoke billowing up from the burning piles that had once been buildings.
I’d logged into the game and found Keuketon’s friend request waiting. I’d accepted. It made me sick. Destroying this city had helped a little. The happy chime of leveling up again helped more.
Congrats, Miss Church, Mr. Australia said. Halira is now level four. Would you care to review your stats?
Why the hell not? I logged out of the game mode and went to Halira’s special window.
Halira
Level 4
HP 6
Attack 22
Defense 6
Special Attack 13
Special Defense 6
Speed 22
Balanced, my baby was not. That was just fine by me. Especially if the new record with which I’d demolished this level was anything to go by. I noticed that I’d gotten a slightly larger boost to my girl’s stats at level three. From the look of things, we hadn’t gotten so much this time around. I’d have to keep track of the progression over the next few levels.
I’d been right, though. The stats that had been more heavily focused into were growing faster than the rest. Halira was definitely locked into a specific playstyle. Fortunately, it was one that complimented me. My baby couldn’t take a hit to save her life, but damn if she couldn’t bring the pain. I wished that I could.
Playing helped. So did seeing Halira’s growth. There was something deeply rewarding about both that I couldn’t properly explain. It must’ve been how gardeners feel when their plants grow healthy and give a big harvest. Maybe. I’d never gardened, and that wasn’t about to change.
All in all, when I logged out a short while later, I was feeling significantly better. My problems weren’t solved by a long shot, but at the very least, I no longer felt the urge to simply hurt things. When I’d gotten home, it had been all I could do not to claw at my own skin and smash the furniture through the walls.
Say what you will about those creepy fuckers, the dickheads that made this game knew what they were doing. The wound inside of me was no longer bleeding and raw. It was still a wound, but the agony of it had been muted to a dull, manageable ache. The power of more or less rational thought had been re
stored to me.
Then the fucking phone rang, and I saw my mother’s face beaming at me from the screen.
I was still hurting from that shit she’d pulled ditching me at Daddy’s fundraiser, and in my current mood, that hurt welled up into a quiet, seething fury that somehow jolted me back from my situation. I’d been too angry before to fully appreciate just how terrifying my situation with Irwin was. The bastard had a video of me that he’d recorded from my bedroom window. Daddy might be willing to trade me around like a commodity, but Irwin didn’t even appreciate that—he wanted to destroy me.
I should want my mother. A normal girl would. A normal girl would have called her first thing and done whatever mother-daughter shit usually goes down over tearful phone calls. The idea of calling Mom hadn’t even crossed my mind. Why would it? Mom wasn’t a mom.
I had to talk to her now, though. If I didn’t, it would become a massively dramatic thing. It would take her months to get over it, and the fallout would be more than I had any desire to deal with.
I wiped my eyes dry—I hadn’t cried exactly. They were tears of rage that had begun to leak from me as I’d let everything go in the game. There wasn’t a lot of moisture left, but I felt more human without the little salt trails. I answered the phone.
Mom’s voice was shrill with excitement. The force of it so powerful that I felt my mouth turning up in a grin, caught up in her enthusiasm until her words registered.
“You’re dating Irwin Collier!”
My stomach dropped. So did my grin.
“No,” I said flatly. Too flatly. It was rude.
I forced a smile back onto my face. It’s an old trick, and it works well. Smiling makes you sound happy. It can also improve your mood. Theoretically. I have a sneaking suspicion that what qualifies as a “good mood” for me isn’t healthy.
“What made you think that?” I asked, tone more appropriately cheerful for a puzzled inquiry.
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