Spy: Reborn

by Angie A Huxley

  Everyone knew the stories about Duke Red. Amongst long term players in Drake Realm, he was something of an urban legend—a rogue player who had managed to hack into the game, wreaking havoc and chaos wherever he went. He played as an assassin, but seemed to have mastered several magical disciplines and could wield most in-game weapons like a seasoned expert. Nobody knew his real life identity, and despite constant assurances from the Over Monitor and its administrator bots that they had blocked him completely from the mainframe, Duke Red always managed to find a way back in.

  He would strike without warning, taking down experienced players with ease and stealing their equipment and sovereigns, and sometimes even wiping a player’s character out completely using a hijacked administrator command. There was a technical term for it, but players simply called it Total Death—a command that would kill a player and prevent them from respawning. The Over Monitor claimed that it patched out the issue, that only legitimate administrators could Total Death a player’s avatar. Duke Red, however, kept finding a way to go over their fixes, and the word was that other players could pay him in sovereigns or equipment to completely erase rivals and players they had a grudge against.

  The assassin though hadn’t been sighted in almost a year, and the community started to think they were finally rid of him. But now he had appeared again and somehow he’d managed to hack his way into a rare, instanced quest that Manticore Crew painstakingly worked to claim as their own.

  “What do you want?” blurted out Argo, though he could readily guess the answer.

  Duke Red’s cold smile was knife-slash thin. “Isn’t that obvious my little Bard?”

  “But you can’t! We got to the Blight Cube first! The reward belongs to the Manticore Crew!”

  “You do have a point old darling, and I must congratulate you on doing an excellent job. Not many Bards have the concentration to play an enchanted melody in one go. I can, of course, that’s why I’ll be taking the lute as well. Be a good boy and put it on the ground next to me.”

  Argo was stunned. He clutched onto the instrument protectively. The Lute of Decimar had come to be his favorite piece of equipment as its magical abilities would give him an edge he never possessed before. The thought of losing it, losing all the magically-tuned melodies he could play horrified him. The muscles in his jaw clenched as he stood his ground.

  “You can’t have it. It’s mine.”

  Behind his delicate mask, Duke Red’s obsidian black eyes danced with cruel amusement. “I wasn’t asking. Put the lute down and then back away. You know you don’t stand a chance against me, old darling. I wouldn’t want to lower your self-confidence even more by having to gut you like a fish… or worse.”

  Argo licked at his dry lips, unable to think properly. He couldn’t take on Duke Red, and despite wanting to run away from the game earlier, he was utterly petrified of suffering Total Death. But to simply give away the lute, to stand by and let Duke Red destroy the Blight Cube and claim all the glory belonging to the Crew… it was unthinkable. His legs trembled and his stomach churned as he fell to pieces, completely at a loss at what to do next.

  Suddenly, at the far end of the hall, there came an almighty crash. Freed from the standoff by the noise, Argo looked over to see that the Abhorrent Scaler had fallen on its back. Henk was already back on his feet—probably surprising the Scaler from behind with a critical Shield bash—while Brier, Aaheli and Kip were attacking the downed monster without mercy.

  “Guys!” Argo called out desperately. “Duke Red is here!”

  There was a blur of red and suddenly the assassin was gone. Argo saw his chance and rushed to the altar to finish setting the timer for the combustible bomb. It took a split second to realize it was gone and another to register the dagger now stuck inside his ribcage.

  “Sorry, old darling,” Duke Red’s voice caressed his ear like silk. “But here’s where you get off.”

  Argo has taken 10 damage from the Dagger of the Shadow-Walker!

  Argo has been afflicted by Poisonfeather Bird Venom! Paralyze inflicted for 10 seconds, receiving 10 poison damage a second!

  Vital organ struck! Critical damage registered, receiving 2x damage from the attack! (20 Damage received)

  Backstab damage registered, receiving 10x damage from the attack (200 damage received)

  Poison damage registered, receiving 10 damage from Poisonfeather Bird Venom!

  Needless to say, the brutal 210 damage Argo received far outstripped his measly 30 health points.

  Sharp jagged pains, like animal bites, sliced through his body as his death registered in his brain. He tried to move, but his limbs felt like they were encased in concrete and he could only stand helpless as spidery, gloved hands carefully relieved his corpse of the Lute of Decimar.

  He tried to call out to the others again, but his death paralyzed his avatar’s vocal chords. Worse still, as he watched the battle, the huge double doors on the far side of the hall were flung open and scores of ice goblins poured through them—all led by the icicle-thin figure of the Siren Spinner.

  Siren Spinner

  Level

  12

  Health

  2,000

  Stamina

  200

  Mana

  1,000

  Argo hovered above his corpse long enough to see the fey master of this dungeon hurl an ice bolt straight at Aaheli. It froze the Ranger to the spot while her savage minions overwhelmed the other three—still battling desperately against the Abhorrent Scaler—before the spirit timer counted down. A familiar violet haze soon filled his vision, and he found himself standing on the respawn point inside Witchstorm Manor.

  Chapter Three: Antelope Number Two and an Ultimatum

  Quilby Montague kept an office overlooking the park in the center of Orchid City’s Bohemian District. This was the oldest section of the city interlaced with narrow twisting streets of blue and red cobbles. Charming crow-stepped buildings of brightly painted brick held dominance, most of them hosting dusty book stores, labyrinthine antique shops and smoky, dark wood coffee shops where intellectuals, musicians, artists and actors congregated en masse. Other, more shadowy figures could also be found in the Bohemian District’s wine cellars and alleyway bars, black marketeers, gangsters, anti-tech dissidents and worse. The line between creativity and criminality blurred here, which intrigued and attracted Argo, though he was too scared to explore the District’s darker places. When he came here, he kept his visits strictly limited to the crumbling grandeur of Montague’s little domain above the park.

  “Argo, my boy,” the talent agent said in his normal jovial manner. “Come and take a seat. Would you like a coffee?”

  “No thank you,” Argo said, settling down in the heavy leather seat opposite Quilby’s colossal mahogany desk. “On the phone you said you had the job opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “Indeed I did, and indeed I do,” Quilby replied, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across his red-cheeked face. “This is indeed a once in a lifetime opportunity and it’ll be your big breakthrough. You mark my words.”

  Argo had heard that before. Quilby had been promising him his big breakthrough ever since he signed up to him, and all he’d delivered so far was one nightmare audition after another. Like Mr. Collaban, Quilby Montague had seen better days. He had once been agent to some big movie stars, but that had been a good forty years ago. Since then, most people preferred to watch simulations rather than real actors, and slick corporate talent agencies had moved in to personally cater for those wealthy patrons willing to pay to watch live performances. Most of the genuine talent in Montague’s stable had retired or died, and couldn’t be replaced. Montague’s contacts dried up and he had been left adrift, taking on any struggling actor he could find. Argo had wanted to leave him a while back and sign up with the same agency Aaheli was with, but he felt bad turning away from the old man. Also
, Argo felt lucky that Montague was still willing to represent him as his number of failed auditions grew steadily. In fact, this was the first time in weeks Quilby had called him in for something. If Argo didn’t have the agent or the Nightingale Theater, he might never work again.

  “Another breakthrough,” Argo said, trying to put some enthusiasm into his voice. “What is it?”

  “Ah, very eager to get on, I like that Argo. That will stand you in good stead. Shows character and backbone,” Quilby said, his eyes darting evasively from Argo’s face. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a coffee, or a tot of brandy? Oh, I forgot you don’t drink. That will stand you in good stead. Drink had ruined many a fledgling talent. Shows character and backbone not drinking.”

  Argo frowned. Quilby was stalling and being complimentary, which meant Argo was not going to like what he was going to hear. “What have you got me into this time, Quilby?”

  “Why Argo, don’t sound so suspicious,” Quilby replied as he nervously fiddled with the aquamarine cravat tied around his neck. “There is no need to be wary, though, I must say, being wary will stand you in good stead. Shows character and backbone. A wary actor is a successful actor.”

  “It’s with Magarito Pasivah, isn’t it?” said Argo, losing what little hope he nurtured that this was the mythical breakthrough he had been longing for.

  The floundering expression on Quilby’s face told him that he was right. The talent agent made a helpless gesture with his hands. “It might be with the person you just named but—”

  “No,” Argo said.

  “Now, now, Argo, don’t be hasty,” Quilby said quickly. “This is a very good opportunity to advance your career.”

  “The last time I auditioned for her, she tried to disembowel me with an egg whisk,” Argo retorted. “How is working for her an opportunity to advance my career?”

  “I agree, Mags can be a little volatile from time to time.”

  “She’s a full blown psychopath,” Argo said. “Nobody wants to work for her. You said you wouldn’t send her anyone else after what happened with the accordion player.”

  Quilby flinched and put his hand to his mouth. “Don’t even remind me about that. I’m still paying off the dry cleaning bill.”

  “Then why are you sending me to her? Surely you’re not that desperate?”

  “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I was on the level when I said this could be a breakthrough, for both of us. I heard a rumor going round the Diamante Club that Lady Ahunja has become Magarito’s patron.”

  Argo looked at him in surprise. Lady Ahunja was one of the richest women in the territory and was also close friends with Argo’s mother. “Are you joking?”

  “It sounds completely mad, I know, but I confirmed that it was true,” Quilby said. “Lady Ahunja is so in love with Magarito’s creative vision that she is going to finance her next three plays and an opera. There’s talk that the Lady is going to set up her own theater company to put on personal performances for her and her friends, your mother included probably. Think of it, Argo. You could be a leading star in the company. It would mean a generous salary and a steady one too.”

  Twenty percent of which would go to you, Argo thought. Working for a patron was every actor’s dream and it would certainly prove to his parents that he could cut it in the business. Still, Magarito Pasivah…

  Argo shook his head. “Sorry Quilby, but my nerves can’t handle another encounter with Magarito Pasivah.”

  “Don’t be too hasty to turn this one down, Argo,” Quilby said. “You’re just right for the part on offer and nobody else wants to touch it—erm, nobody else can touch it because they lack your range. It’s tailor-made for you; you have my word on that.”

  Argo had been with Quilby long enough to know his word meant nothing, and that if he took the audition it would be a big mistake. On the other hand though, it might not be all bad and could lead to bigger and better things. He could certainly do with a break, he thought gloomily. It had been two weeks since the disaster in Crystalweb Cavern, and Argo was still feeling rotten about it. Aaheli told him it wasn’t his fault even though he felt otherwise. The rest of the Manticore Crew didn’t blame him either. The arrival of Duke Red had been completely unexpected and it went without saying that the Bard wouldn’t have stood a chance against him. Argo knew they were right, but he still felt that there was more he could have done.

  He replayed the encounter over and over again in minute detail, trying to figure out if he could have done something different, could have stopped the rogue player in some way. He dwelt on those last dying moments in the game as Duke Red removed the Lute of Decimar and was filled with hot shame that it had been taken from him. That was more humiliating to him than failing the quest. Since then, he had avoided going into Drake Realm entirely, despite Aaheli’s efforts to get him to join her. He couldn’t bear the Crew’s pity or the rest of the community laughing at him behind his back. Most of all, he could not cope with the idea that Duke Red might strike again at any time and cause him more upset.

  Life at the Nightingale Theater wasn’t going much better either. Though Tomi had not quit, mainly because his audition for a big movie hadn’t led to anything, he was completely ignoring Argo and it had created a tension amongst the rest of the cast and production team. Argo hated ever being there now, and was desperate to get away completely, both from the theater and Drake Realm.

  Maybe, just maybe, this was the escape route he was waiting for. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay, Quilby. I’ll consider it. What’s the role?”

  Quilby nearly fell off his chair. “You’ll consider it? I mean, of course you’ll consider it. I knew you would. This is a moment of destiny and a good actor always knows when a moment of destiny is at hand. It’s a very exciting and fascinating part. Full of mystery and intrigue, a little romance as well.”

  “I’m going to be a romantic lead?” Argo asked in surprise.

  “Not exactly,” the agent said carefully. “You’re an antelope.”

  “An antelope? You’re sending me to play an antelope?”

  “Antelope Number Two to be exact. Antelope Number One is the romantic lead from what I hear. I’m not exactly clear on all the details of the play, but, be there at ten tomorrow and Mags will explain all. Mark my words, you’ll not regret it. I have the feeling this is the start of something big!”

  * * *

  “I want it big!” Magarito Pasivah yelled at the top of her voice. “Big I say! No! Bigger than that!”

  “I’m not sure I can go any bigger,” Argo said. “That was the biggest I could manage.” He lifted up the red balloon he had been blowing up in the hope that its size would placate her.

  “It’s not big enough for so majestic a beast as the antelope!” Magarito retorted, stalking towards him. “The balloon is the antelope’s totem, his emblem of power. The breath of the antelope must be full of vigor and vitality. The balloons must be filled with that power. They must inflate with your inner god energy so that they can float away into the ether! Blow up another one!”

  Argo’s heart sank and he picked another balloon out of the box. This was his fifth attempt since he’d gotten here, and he was almost out of breath. It didn’t help that he was sweating to death inside the antelope costume Magarito had made him wear, and its itching material was driving him crazy.

  “Make sure you put all your might into it, Argo,” urged Magarito. “The antelope is fearless and mighty, and his balloons must reflect this.”

  Argo looked at the drooping piece of latex he had picked up and gave Magarito a miserable look. She grinned at him and urged him to carry on. “Blow, Argo! Blow with all your antelope might!”

  Ed the production assistant, who was tying up Argo’s balloons when he’d blown them up, gave him a sympathetic look. “This is nothing compared to what Antelope One has to do,” he said. “Consider yourself lucky.”

  “Quiet Ed! You’re distracting him from the
creative source!” snapped Magarito. “Blow Argo! Pour all your passion, your raging desire into the balloon. Be one with your inner antelope.”

  Argo fell his face go even redder as he blew up the balloon. He put as much air as he had in his lungs into it, hoping it would be enough and wishing this nightmare would end. Magarito folded her arms and nodded approvingly.

  “Yes,” she said in delight. “That’s it. Good, good. Don’t stop.”

  Argo kept blowing, wincing at the pain in his chest. He could not keep going for much longer, but still the director urged him to make the balloon larger and larger. “Don’t turn back now, Argo!” she exclaimed. “Be the fearless antelope I know you can be!”

  Argo was pretty sure that antelopes weren’t very fearless, or that they made a habit of blowing up balloons, but he was in no fit state to point that fact out. In truth, he was in no fit state to do anything right now, apart from keel over dead from a heart attack.