by Arthur Stone
“For me, the problems aren’t with the bow, but with pumping stats.”
“I don’t know what kind of problems you’re talking about, but what you’re looking for is a hard thing to come by. Weapons with those properties are quite rare.”
“Right. And no one wants them.”
“Ah, there you are mistaken. If no one wanted them, merchants would not ask so much for them. I don’t have any bows or crossbows that fit your description.”
“Too bad...”
“Don’t leave just yet, though. There is one option. It’s a complicated option, but it’s there.”
“If by ‘complicated’ you mean ‘expensive,’ I might not be able to afford it,” Cheater warned.
“No, don’t worry about that. I’m not about to fleece a hero! A friend of mine happens to have a bow like the one you seek, but he’ll be reluctant to give it up. You’ll need to bring him something to change his mind.”
“What should I bring him?”
“You probably know we’re not like you. Not like players. We still have all of the memories from our past life, or at least most of them. And we come here in our houses, with our families, our friends, our cats and our dogs. Then, we lose them all. You can’t imagine how hard that is.”
“My condolences.”
“I don’t need condolences, actually. I was lucky. I came here without any family. The cluster boundary was between me and them. I do hope my family is doing well. But my friend was not so fortunate. Because of his loss, he has become a recluse, and dares not even approach his home cluster. He is afraid that doing so will break him. Break down the walls he has built. But I know that such a visit is exactly what he needs. He needs to remember who he was. After all, sometimes, in order to go forward, you must look back. Even if there is nothing but pain in the past. You are a winner, a warrior, and a hero. This favor will be easy for you to do for him, and for me.”
“What do I need to do? Kill someone?”
“No, no killing is necessary. Six weeks ago, cluster 349-91-36 rebooted. Few infecteds remain now. The place is clear. You must reach the cluster and find building number 47 on Chemist Street. That’s where my friend once lived. One of the apartments inside contains a family photo album. Bring it to me, and I will give you the bow right away. For, say, four thousand spores. For a weapon like this, that is a mere pittance. Basically free.”
“‘Four thousand’ and ‘free’ have very different meanings where I come from...”
“Even in an honest stable, you won’t find a bow like this any cheaper than seven or eight thousand. And that’s if you’re lucky. This is Pyramid, so here there’d be a fifty percent premium on top of that. I mean it when I say four thousand is a token price.”
“How will you give me the bow immediately if your friend has it?”
“I’ll deal with him myself. Your only task is to bring the album.”
“Perhaps the bow isn’t worth it. I haven’t even seen it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Cheater chuckled. “Do I really look like a man who cares about bling? Maybe you can throw in some hair products and eyeliner while you’re at it.”
The merchant looked up at the ceiling, rolled his eyes, and murmured in a monotone voice:
“Bow of Depletion, from the Black Castle. Rare weapon of the Former. Visible properties: Guileful Speed (up to 50% of experience points earned for bonus stats in battle are transferred to Speed progress points). Lesser Guileful Endurance (up to 10% of experience points earned for bonus stats in battle are transferred to Endurance progress points), Guileful Despair (5 to 15 experience points earned for bonus stats in battle are transferred to base stat progress points, but never to Willpower), Weak Fatal Shot (arrows from this bow have a 25% chance of piercing obstacles 2x stronger than can be pierced by a normal shot). Unstrengthened. This weapon has no owner. You can become its owner and change its name.”
Cheater nearly fainted. Three modifications with the exact properties he needed. An amazing bow for pumping his level, which he urgently needed. Even the fourth property was decent.
He was in luck.
“You’ll give it to me for four thousand?”
“I always keep my word.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve had a similar weapon before. It wasn’t as good, but it was similar. So I have a good idea of what this should cost. It really is worth at least twice as much as your price.”
“That’s what I said. But you’re forgetting that I also need the photo album.”
“So what’s the catch?”
“I’ve tried to send others before, to retrieve the album.”
“And?”
“They took a long time to return. Actually, only one of them ever returned. And he didn’t come to see me—I happened to run into him on the street. He showered me with vulgar insults, saying I had sent him into a trap. But that wasn’t true. I had told him the same thing I told you. Not a word more. I don’t know why he thought I intended to betray him.”
“Hmm. Is it possible that the place you sent them to is the most dangerous location in that city?”
“Anything can happen in a city long ago seized by infecteds.”
“What level were these players at?”
“It was higher than yours.”
“But you did not hesitate to send me on this quest.”
“You need a good bow, and I know how to get you one at a bargain price. And how could I refuse to help a hero like you?”
“So the catch is some possible unknown threat.”
“Perhaps.”
“Do you know the IDs of the people you sent after the album?”
“Only their nicknames, not their IDs. Do you want me to write them down for you?”
“Please. I would like to find out what the danger was. I’ll look for them. Perhaps one of them is available in local chat.”
“Good idea,” the merchant nodded, writing with his pen.
“Please write the address down, too.”
“OK. Here you go.”
“You write fast.”
“I’m an old hand at it.”
“What’s the apartment number?”
“What apartment number?”
“Huh? I asked for the address.”
“And I wrote it down.”
“But you said this was an apartment building.”
“Sorry, but I don’t know the apartment number.”
“Could you ask your friend?”
“That would be difficult to explain. The album must be a surprise, or everything will be ruined.”
“Do you know anything about the building? How many floors, how many apartments?”
“It’s not really a building. It’s three buildings in one, but they look like one, since they’re joined. The address I gave you is for the middle one. Each of the buildings has sixteen floors and two ways in, with four apartments on each floor.”
Cheater wasn’t very good at math, but he managed to multiply the numbers mentally.
“Three hundred eighty-four apartments.”
“That’s right.”
“And several rooms in each one, filled with furniture. There could be hundreds of photo albums.”
“You will know it when you see it. On its cover, there’s a laminated photograph of two twin six-year-old girls in pink dresses, with a golden retriever between them. The girls and the dog are all wearing white bows.”
“Huh. Got it.”
“Do you accept the quest?”
“Seems simple enough. All I have to do is go to a place where multiple powerful players have gone before, each of which found the experience so maddening that they can no longer speak to you without cursing your birth. I’ll search three hundred and eighty apartments, which will take a week, if we’re excluding sleep, toilet, and lunch breaks, and then give you the album I find plus four thousand spores to get a bow that nobody really wants. Is that r
ight?”
“You knew right from the outset that there was a catch.”
“Can we come to some other agreement? What if I bring you more than four thousand spores?”
The trader shook his head.
“The spores are worthless without the album, as far as this bow is concerned.”
“Could you refer me to someone in your network who might have a similar bow? I need a bow or crossbow urgently, without taking unnecessary risks. Even if it’s a worse bow. As long as I can get it faster.”
“It’s just too rare a weapon. You should ask the player merchants. They might have something. No nearby merchants from our circles have what you need.”
“Alright. I’ll think about it.”
“Of course. But if you decide to go get the album, you must let me know first. That is one of the conditions.”
“Got it.”
* * *
Only one of the nicknames Cheater received was active. The rest were grayed out in the chat, which meant Cheater had no way to contact them.
His only lead was the player with the most embarrassing nickname.
“Hi, Manure. Sorry for the trouble. We don’t know each other, but you’re the only one I can ask. I encountered an NPC merchant named Barrels. He says he sent you to a cluster to retrieve a photo album, but you say it was a trap. He wants to send me to the same place. I’m interested in the quest, but not in a respawn. Could you tell me what happened?”
Manure replied in an instant.
“It was a shithole, man.”
“I figured. Why?”
“That damned digi devil sent us to a huge building to look for a shit photo album. The city was basically free of ghouls. We arrived without incident. Then the shit started flying. It’s a trap. An elite lives there. Turned the place into its lair. It’s punched passageways through all the walls, so it can easily move around all three buildings. We only figured this out when we were inside. We tried to escape, but a few minutes later, we were all at respawn.”
“Just an elite? One? It’s probably not still there, then.”
“Are you a newbie?”
“Close enough.”
“I can tell. Look, these digis are all screwed up. They give you quests that look great, like no brainers. But remember, there’s always a pile of hot shit somewhere in the deal, waiting to dump on you. The quest may smell like French cologne, but the scent is just masking a big, filthy ass. You can’t just slip in and grab the album. Something will stop you. Some great trial you can’t avoid.”
“Got it. How strong was the elite? Did you see it?”
“Average, I guess. Didn’t see its panel. But I’m guessing two tons, level 80. You could try to kill it if you had a squad with you. As long as you don’t go inside first. The place is a labyrinth. You’ll be lost, but the elite knows the whole lair like the back of its paw. The walls and floors have holes in them, and everything is rearranged, and even a sensor won’t be a great help since they’re not good with up and down. Understand?”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
“I suggest you stay away from the place. Doubt you’ll listen to me, but I gotta say it.”
“Thanks again.”
Cheater closed the chat and then his eyes. Did he really need this bow? Was it worth the nightmarish quest? It was an amazing weapon, just what he wanted, but getting it would take a lot of time, and possibly cost him a life.
But perhaps it wouldn’t waste time, in the grander scheme of things. Cheater’s primary task was to get to Kitty. But rushing headlong to reach her would end in disaster, especially when his level was so low. So he had decided to reach level twenty first. Once he was there, he would probably decide that he was ready. Until then, his plan was to make slow progress towards the eastern border and earn progress points at every opportunity.
Killing an elite would earn him a nice chunk of experience. He had just recently happened to leaf through the local publication for newcomers, and there he had read about interactions with NPCs. It had focused on tasks, or “quests,” as immunes usually called them. They seemed rare and unpredictable, if the pamphlet was correct. Quite out of the ordinary. Players valued them highly for the prizes and significant stat boosts they provided—including boosts to stats that were difficult to pump otherwise.
If Cheater pulled this off, he would certainly come out ahead. The cluster was nearby. All he had to do was travel there, get the album, and get back to this stable in one piece. Besides the whole part about searching nearly four hundred apartments haunted by a hungry elite. That elite could be stronger than usual elites of its level—which also meant its sporesac could be richer. Including bonus trophies never dropped by ordinary monsters.
The memo did say players wouldn’t likely run into a quest until at least level 30. Cheater had a long, long way to go till level 30.
Did his Hero title have a part to play here? Perhaps. Or maybe it was his Luck.
Whatever the case, he was fortunate to have this chance to boost his stats and his arsenal.
How, though, would he claim the damned photo album? Searching the apartments could take weeks, and according to the map he had managed to purchase and add to his database, the cluster in question was due for a reboot in thirteen days.
He might already be too late.
* * *
Even small settlements are good for getting lost in. Cheater spent about an hour searching for the person he needed. In the end, he had to enter the red zone, which he had been categorically opposed to doing.
He even had to pay for entrance to the building marked on his map as the Coliseum, though it didn’t look one bit like its Roman namesake on the outside.
Inside, there were a couple of similarities. It was a huge room with no windows, rows of chairs on all sides, and steps descending to a square central arena. Noisy spectators sat around, alone or in groups, though they filled less than a quarter of the hall. Two knights struggled in medieval armor, complete with swords and shields with colorful coats of arms.
Cheater sat down next to Titty Tat and watched the fight with her. He evaluated the Strength of one of the warriors, whose sword knocked a deep notch into the opponent’s shield.
“Hey, Tat. Why didn’t you answer my chat message?”
“My bad. I didn’t think anyone would try to get a hold of me that fast. So I hid my menu and disabled notifications. Wanted to avoid distractions.”
“I didn’t take you for a gambler. Have you lost a lot?”
“Just a few dozen grapes. I’m here to watch, really, not to bet.”
“But you do bet.”
“Small amounts, just out of curiosity.” She was drinking pricey Scotch straight from the bottle. “So what happened that drove you to wander around looking for me? Couldn’t it just have waited till morning? I thought one night alone wouldn’t be enough to change your mind about me. Or to have any new plans crop up that need me. But you’re in luck. A drunk woman is cheap, and easy to get.”
“The fact that you’re a woman has nothing to do with it. I haven’t changed my plans, and I don’t intend to, no matter what your appearance or personality might be.”
“Oh yeah, I remember. The mysterious, eternally silent Kitty. Hey, I think the guy with the red rooster on his shield is going to crush the other guy. How much you willing to bet on it?”
“That’s not a rooster. It’s a dragon, in mid-flight. And go take your bets to the bookie. I’m not gambler.”
“I don’t have to go anywhere. A snap of the fingers, and they come running. Smooth operation. But I don’t want to bet money. How about this: if the red rooster loses, you tell me why Kitty hasn’t said a word, and why her icon’s always gray. If he wins, though, I’ll agree to whatever your proposal is, no questions asked.”
“What if my proposal is to sacrifice you to the ghouls?”
“Eh, what’s one life anyway? YOLAHT.” “Er, what?” “You only live a hundred times.”
“Right. Look, what makes you
think I have some important proposal for you?”
“You’re telling me this is a social call? I know you better than you think. Gladiators are definitely not up your alley. So, is it a bet?”
“Alright, I’ll shake on that. So gladiators are your thing, eh?”
“I’ve fought here before. Novice women’s bracket. And I even saw some success. But this kind of thing requires, shall we say, other talents. I had to change my profession before long.”
The warrior with the red dragon held up his shield, which was nearly broken, and reeled from another blow. He started to lose his balance. Inspired, the enemy charged, swinging his sword as if his plan was to cleave the opponent clean in two. But somehow the uncertainty of the target’s movements vanished, and the man dealt a lightning-fast counterattack from an impossibly awkward, non-standard position. His blade entered his opponent’s armor in the hinge just above the knee.
A cry of pain and powerless fury echoed through the hall. It was all over in a matter of seconds. The wounded man had lost all mobility and so could not defend himself against the ensuing series of swift attacks. A jab from behind was the finishing blow, right under the back of his head, again in a joint in the man’s armor. Blood gushed out, a red fountain washing the armor of loser and winner alike.
“You lost,” Tat announced coldly.
“I did,” Cheater nodded. “I didn’t think that was a fight to the death.”
“Well, only a fight to the 1% of deaths, really. This one is used to fighting ghouls. That killing blow was right where the sporesac would’ve been. Alright, come on, then.”
“Kitty is too far away to chat. In a different region, in fact.”
“I know.” Her voice was still without emotion. “West Coast.”
Cheater’s head whirled, and in his mind, Tat was turning on him and he was surrounded by her accomplices.
But she grinned, without even looking at him. “Calm down, I’m the only one who knows.”
“Knows what?”
“You used to be called Rocky. There are some people out there who really don’t like you. Bad people. They’re looking for you everywhere. They suspect you managed to change your name, but they’re not sure. So I guess you were transferred to a new region, but Kitty stayed in the old.”
