“Fuck you, asshole,” came the expected reply. “We have unfinished business.”
Exhausted, Nick just let his eyes roam the distant landscape. He felt a surge of quiet satisfaction as the ravens carried them across a jagged mountain range and into a different realm altogether. A title appeared before him - the Great Sands of Bariz.
The ravens descended, carried by a warm, dry down-draught, and landed smoothly on a serpentine sand dune. Nick rolled off, happy to plant his feet on the ground. He petted the raven appreciatively.
“Who sent you?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. So much had happened in the last hour his mind was a chaotic mess. Even Kain, pacing back and forth on the sand, seemed thoroughly overwhelmed.
“Did you kill The Spiderling?” Nick asked the older pixel runner.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Kain barked. Nick knew the answer from his tone. He watched the ravens rise into the sky, silhouetted against a reddening horizon. There was much to contemplate as the world went black.
Nick was hauled from the Immersion tank and shoved down the side ladder. Shivering and exhausted, he watched Ern approach with a phalanx of suited executives.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the producer screamed, the veins at his temple pulsing furiously. “You farmed an illegal area for XP!”
Before Nick knew what he was doing he had Ern pinned against the wall, his forearm jammed against his throat.
“I could ask the same thing,” he breathed, quivering with long-held anger. “If you guys ever mention my father in-game again, I’ll fucking kill you. That’s a promise.”
“Then you’re done, Stanners,” Ern croaked.
Nick glanced at the executives. One of them shifted nervously on her feet. There was something strange going on here, but Nick wasn’t going to learn more today. A pair of burly security guards dragged him to the street and threw him through the atmos-shell, tossing his clothes after him. Nick dressed quickly against the gathering cold. It was dangerously close to sundown.
The first thing he did was take a flyer to Angel Hospital. He checked his bank balance on the way - over 20,000 credits. He guessed he’d come first in the day’s session. But there was no joy, no elation in the discovery - just a mild satisfaction that Neutron had paid him his due.
Terrence Stanners was asleep. Nick was overwhelmed with immense relief - he hadn’t been sure if The Spiderling was lying or not.
“He’s had a rough afternoon,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.
It was Emily, the young nurse from earlier in the day.
“You,” Nick said, relieved to be speaking to someone normal, someone unrelated to the world of Immersion gaming. He didn’t know what else to say. He was relieved, he was sad, he was shocked, he was utterly exhausted. The world of Oakshield Junction had obliterated his mind.
“You look like shit,” Emily said with a smile. “I’m just about to finish up here. Feel like a coffee?”
Nick glanced at his father. He wasn’t likely to wake anytime soon.
“Sure,” he said. “I can’t guarantee my brain will join us, though.”
Emily chuckled. Nick thought he could get used to that sound.
“I really need a cigarette, too,” she said bashfully. “I know - I’m old school. And it’s a bad habit.”
“Not at all,” Nick said, feeling more human already. “I like old school. You couldn’t imagine how much.”
+3
Nick studied his new lover through a veil of cigarette smoke. He was sitting opposite Emily in the shared atrium on the top level of her hab block. Morning sun slanted in through the glass roof, lending the various ferns and orchids a rare vibrancy.
Perhaps this was a taste of what life used to be like twenty-five years ago. Nick couldn’t remember such a clear morning. Of course, the fine grill above the sloping glass atrium was a reminder of the dust storms that frequently smashed the west coast.
Still, Emily Lambert’s hab block was much nicer than Nick’s crime-ridden slab of concrete. She’d invited him back for a “drink” and Nick was, to put it mildly, happy to accept. He didn’t relish the idea of heading home, as things had ended badly with Helena. Her cousin, a tattooed thug, was no doubt lying in wait to “tax” his recent windfall from the Neutron Syndicate.
But such matters could be dealt with later. Right now Emily was scratching her leg, her blond hair falling over her face. They’d made love three times during the night, an intense, exhilarating few hours. Considering what he’d been through the previous day, he was rather proud of his stamina.
Emily Lambert, the nurse who watched over his dying father, had a knack of reminding him that he wasn’t made of pixels.
“So,” he murmured in his sexiest voice. “You gonna watch?”
“I told you,” she said playfully. “I don’t like games.”
Of course, saying as much in this day and age was strange. Playing games, or watching Nex casts about games, was pretty much the number one leisure activity worldwide. This might’ve had something to do with the broken, polluted natural world, but Nick believed it was an inevitable evolutionary step.
Games were opening doors in people’s minds when so many doors were being slammed shut in their physical lives. If you didn’t have a job, you could at least find work in games. If you hated your job, and that probably accounted for 98% of the population, you at least had your games.
Aside from dust fans and air purification technology, interactive recreation was the most dynamic industry in the 21st century. It was always coming up with something completely new for the masses. Of course, the absolute pinnacle was Immersion gaming. From what Nick had seen so far, it was a complete game-changer.
So Emily’s aversion to games was, it must be said, rare.
“Fine,” he said. “Though you’re missing out.”
“I don’t need Oak Tree Junction,” Emily said with a smile.
“Oakshield Junction,” Nick corrected, laughing.
“Hey,” Emily said suddenly, grabbing his hand. “I know a place we can go tonight, if you’re free. A tree. Not one of those bent, sand-blasted things on the beach, a real tree. You should see it - it’s beautiful.”
Caught by the sunlight, Emily’s eyes were alive with inspiration. She was very attractive, but in a non-threatening way. Which was strangely important to a nerd like Nick. He still couldn’t quite work out how he’d managed to draw her attention. Whatever he was doing, he resolved to keep bringing it.
“Sounds great,” he said truthfully. He’d always liked the idea of healthy trees, even if he’d never actually seen one. “Let’s make a deal. You watch today’s episode of Oakshield Junction, and I’ll come here after I’m done at the studio.”
Emily smiled. “Deal.”
Nick checked his wrist pad - they both had jobs to get to. Emily was filling in at a hospital up the coast. As for Nick, it felt weird to think he had a ‘job’, but it certainly felt that way. There was a chance his altercation with Ern had cost him his position on the show, but something told him he was safe. For now.
Millions of viewers expected BaronFuckAss to ply his trade today. Sure, Neutron Syndicate could give his username to someone else, but it wasn’t as simple as that. Pixel runners were like characters in a sitcom - over time they developed characteristics that viewers grew attached to. Even though he’d only been running for two episodes, Nick was confident he’d developed a recognizable persona. He also hoped he had something of a fan base.
On the way home Nick dropped in at Angel Hospital. Terrence Stanners was unusually alert for someone in his condition. Nick felt a little guilty he hadn’t been around earlier - any time he got with his father was golden.
“Mornin’ Dad,” he said breezily, fussing about the old man and removing the wilted flowers on the bedside table. “Have they started the new treatment yet?”
“I … refused it,” came the labored reply. Terrence was looking at Nick intently, wh
ich was odd. His father was usually a laid-back character with a twinkling sense of mischief.
“Why?” Nick asked. “I’ve already paid for it. It’ll ease your pain.”
“I’m as … eased … as a man can get,” Terrence said, the corners of his mouth twitching in what might have been a smile. “All I … need … is you.”
Nick sat down, realizing he wasn’t giving his father his undivided attention.
“I met someone, Dad,” he blurted, unable to keep it in any longer. He didn’t really have any friends, and he’d been aching to tell someone. His father’s eyes lit up, though there wasn’t much surprise there.
“Emily …”
“Is it that obvious?” Nick asked, wondering if Emily had said anything to him.
“She’s … quality, Nick,” rasped the old man. “Don’t … let … her go.”
Nick’s wrist pad chimed. His long breakfast with Emily had caught him out. He had to be at Neutron in an hour.
“I’ll see you tonight, Dad,” he said, his guilt deepening. He’d never had a such a short, perfunctory stay at his dad’s bedside.
Terrence raised a skeletal hand.
“One … question. Did you … sign … a contract?”
Nick knew exactly what his father was referring to. He’d been a Union man on the western cargo trains for fifty years. He knew all about dodgy management and the unscrupulous nature of big business.
“I’ve gotta go, Dad,” Nick said. “I promise we’ll talk about this tonight.”
“Nick,” the old man said with sudden intensity. “Don’t be afraid … of the outside … world. The games … aren’t everything.”
Terrence closed his eyes, succumbing to exhaustion.
Troubled by the exchange, Nick kept moving. His father was often cryptic, and he resolved to take the conversation further that night. Well, after seeing Emily.
His next issue was a delicate one. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. But now that he’d broken up with Helena, who was connected to the local crime lord, it wasn’t safe in the Sea Eagle hab block. Her thuggish cousin had already stolen thousands of credits from him.
So he needed to think creatively. 20,000 credits sat in his account courtesy of the Duskstar Forest triumph. He had a flyer drop him on the hab roof, where he requested the immediate services of a security guard from a company called Dunne and Co. They seemed reasonably cheap and operated out of the local area.
Nick sat in the shade of a broken air conditioning unit. At least the day was reasonably clear. If it wasn’t for the gale-force wind buffeting the western face of the building, it might’ve even been pleasant. At length a speck appeared in the sky - a lightweight flyer. It landed opposite Nick, its blades sighing with relief. Out stepped a muscle-bound brute with a RD-92 rifle.
“Where trouble?” he said in a thickly accented voice. He sounded like he was from Europe.
Nick pointed feebly to the hab block.
“Go,” came the authoritative command. “I follow. You sudden movement, you get shot.”
Well, at least he was honest. Nick opened the hatch and padded down the stairs to his level. Sure enough, the apartment door was wide open. The card mechanism had been completely ripped out.
“I go,” muttered the sec guard, moving in. Nick figured he’d wait in the stairwell, flinching at every noise. Within half a minute the guard returned.
“Clear,” he said simply. “But your place is …”
“Yes?” Nick asked, anxiety gripping him.
“… mmm … trash.”
“OK,” Nick said slowly. He could work with that for now, as long as he had some clothes left.
By “trash”, the guard actually meant “soiled with feces, vomit, and semen”. Nick wanted to gag as he picked his way through the debris that was his living room. It was as if every gang member at Sea Eagle had gathered to be communally disgusting there.
Thankfully Nick was able to locate a fresh T-shirt to go with his jeans. He paused as he checked himself out in the cracked bathroom mirror. He was officially homeless. He didn’t have dependable work. The true peril of his situation sunk in. What he did have was some money. As long as he wasn’t attacked between his apartment and the roof, he would have more money by the end of the day.
The burly guard was waiting in the stairwell.
“What do?” he asked brusquely.
“How much for the whole day?” Nick asked.
The man’s thick fingers fiddled with his wrist pad.
“500 …” came the belated reply.
“Alright,” Nick said. “I want you to stay inside. If anyone comes, they’re trespassing.”
“I kill them,” the guard agreed. “Before you go, I tell you. If I kill man with national ID, cost 1000. If I kill man with no national ID, cost 300. If I kill anyone from old gang in Slovakia, I pay you.”
The big man gave a snort, which may or may not have been a laugh.
“Right,” Nick said, bemused. “I’ll be back for my things later. I might need you for a few days … what’s your name?”
The guard thought for a moment.
“Mike.”
The Neutron Syndicate studio was, as always, a hive of activity. Nick was allowed past the front desk, which was certainly encouraging. He made his own way to Studio 20, where Ern was waiting. The producer took him by the arm and drew him into a quiet corner. Nick’s pulse gathered pace when he saw all the techies preparing the Immersion tank. His Immersion tank.
“Listen,” Ern said with a frown. “I don’t like you. I think you’re dangerous. You play this game like your life depends on it. Maybe it does. But if you step outside the rules again, I’ll make you wish you never set foot in here. You understand?”
“No, I don’t,” Nick said, walking away. “I never saw any ‘rules’. I don’t have a contract, right?”
His producer had nothing to say to that. If it was OK for Neutron to treat their pixel runners with contempt, Nick would do whatever he damn well liked when he was in-game. Fuck ‘em.
A pair of female assistants stripped Nick of his clothes, though they didn’t look too happy about it. There was an air of hostility in the studio, as if Nick was somehow a threat to their livelihoods.
Whatever. The game was about to begin and that’s where Nick came into his own. He climbed into the tank and eased himself into the familiar gel. The techies checked their instruments and gave Ern a thumbs up.
The producer didn’t even bother briefing Nick on what he could expect in today’s session. But Nick knew enough - 1) the episode was The Great Sands of Bariz, 2) he’d be up against other pixel runners who’d survived Duskstar Forest and 3) there’d be a time limit on the quest.
He hadn’t seen a leaderboard from yesterday’s session but suspected he’d come out on top. After all, he’d discovered the true danger facing the Kingdom of Durandor and had survived a cutthroat battle with both KainDestroyer18 and The Spiderling.
The amount of money he’d been paid also suggested a high finishing position. But at the end of the day, Nick just wanted to survive. He was on course to really achieve something as a pixel runner, and that kept him going.
Wondering what Oakshield Junction would throw at him next, he drifted comfortably in the tank. Yesterday’s bruising session, along with his magical night with Emily, had filled him with a confidence he hadn’t felt for a long time. There was also his newfound ability to hire people like bodyguards. It was such a novel, surreal thing to do that he thought he’d stepped into someone else’s life.
The opening movie to the day’s session began to play.
History tells us that no one crosses The Spiderling and lives to tell the tale. Stranded in the wild, beguiling deserts of Bariz, our hero will not have time to lick his wounds or staunch his bleeding. If The Spiderling wasn’t enough of a threat, Bariz is set for WAR. On one side, the kobold army refuses to be cowed, relentless in their quest to crush humanity. On the other, Prince Jannibar’s exhausted host retu
rns to the desert, riven with dissension and poor morale. Somewhere in the middle lies the entrance to the Tomb of the Fallen. It is here where the Gods will decide whether you are truly capable of standing up in Durandor’s darkest hour.
Nick grinned - it promised to be a productive session. In his experience, wars usually offered vast scope to farm XP. His first goal was to mainline STR points so he could two-hand his Halberd of the Moon. The open sands of Bariz were the perfect place for such an exacting weapon.
The title screen came and went, followed by a spawn screen. Nick elected to drop deep in the open desert, away from settlements and traders. After all, he was after XP, not trinkets. This was probably the most exhilarating phase of the game. A time when a runner’s build would come into it’s own.
There would be opportunities to specialize gear and optimize skills. Today’s session would sort the contenders from the pretenders. Nick planned to farm like crazy until he could swing his preferred weapon. Only then would he begin his journey to the Tomb of the Fallen.
He blinked rapidly as he found himself standing atop a sun-baked dune. There was no sign of life on the sinewy sand ridge. The sun began cooking him in his plate armor. He groaned. As a strength build, heavy armor was his second skin, but would it be a liability in this place?
As he moved north along the dune, every step took more stamina than it should. All he could do was endure his discomfort for now. Perhaps he could forage something more appropriate for Bariz’s scorching climate.
According to the spawn map, the Tomb of the Fallen would be somewhere in the middle of the Great Sands - southeast of his current position. The mountains to the west looked like the jagged peaks he’d traversed yesterday, on his flight from Duskstar Forest. His flight from The Spiderling.
Judging from the opening movie, the Spiderling was still at large. No pixel runner had been able to kill him yesterday. To be fair, the primary objective had been to escape him, not destroy him. No doubt the terrifying boss would make his presence known today. Where, or how, remained to be seen.
KainDestroyer18: Morning, Baron.
Strength Build: A LitRPG Saga (The Complete Strength Build Cycle) Page 10
