Syndicate Slayer

by Mars Dorian

  “Nerdy bad boy image?”

  “Isn’t that an incredible positioning? You either have the bad boy a-hole or the super-nice nerd. I believe we can create a golden middle here, which is a combination that has never been featured in the Crystal Crusade before.”

  “I—”

  “My assistants are creating a digital avatar of your brand profile. We’re already looking for sponsors that fit your nerdy bad boy positioning.”

  “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

  “I’m going to send you a digital media course to improve your public performance. We have to eliminate your stutters and brain farts between statements.”

  I wanted to say something but Cohen was on a roll. “I got another client call. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  Talking with Cohen was like shouting at a whooshing bullet train. Breathe and you’d lose her. But thanks to her marketing expertise, I was finally making money, so I decided to stay open to her unconventional ideas. As Ben Zoma would say: Who is wise? One who learns from every man.

  I walked away from the backstage and found a young woman with a blond pony-tail coming my way. Her lips glowed in a mint-cool blue and shot upwards.

  “What’s up, Syndicate Slayer?” Yumi-D asked.

  33

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was invited, dude, I told you.”

  She probably did, but with all the things buzzing around my mind, I was too busy.

  “By the way, I just watched your interesting stage performance.”

  “Don’t hold back now.”

  Yumi-D grabbed my arm and dragged me to the bar on the same floor. It was past six, so alcohol was allowed again. Yumi-D ordered two White Russians with the creamiest white I had seen since last year’s blizzard. She handed one chilled glass over to me. “You drink alcohol, don’t you?”

  “Rarely, but I’ll make an exception today.”

  We both sipped at the cold edges of our glasses. Yumi-D’s eyes sparked. “You’re a bad, bad boy, Boltzmann.”

  “Because I defended myself?”

  “You just trolled the most famous Crystal Crusade player on the planet.”

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  “‘Cause Holland deserved it. Every little dart of snark you fired at him.”

  “At least I got one supporter around here.”

  My glance traveled around the bar. The tables filled up with guests who either returned from our session or another game-related event. The sound of chatter and background music allowed me to speak freely. “I just don’t know why he attacked me like that. I never met the guy in real-life, and I can’t remember saying anything negative about him.”

  Yumi-D swirled her White Russian and stayed awfully quiet. She casually glanced around when her pose stiffened, eyes set across the room. “Uh-oh.”

  My head followed her eye direction. Holland Pax himself pranced around the tables in the bar. Folks looked up at him and called his name, ready to meet the so-called legend. But Holland’s eyes focused on me, irises set to stun. My mental defenses leveled up. He halted in front of me and ordered a Sex On The Beach and burned the eye contact. The air tasted like fire, but maybe it was the White Russian speaking.

  “Long time no speak, Yumi.”

  She simply nodded with an eye roll. Was there a history between the two? I had no time to make assumptions. Holland’s eyes turned back to me. “You’ve got a pretty big mouth for a noob.”

  “Sounds like you’re projecting.”

  “I was pointing out your desire for joining criminals and you got overly defensive.”

  “That’s because you acted like an asshole.”

  “Say what?”

  People around us flicked suspicious glances at us. The noise of chatter and music failed to swallow our heated debate. I didn’t care. Not this time.

  “I watched your streams, Holland. You were the reason why I got into pro gaming in the first place. And then I met you for the first time and you’re full of attitude. Just what the heck, man?”

  For the first time since the conversation, Holland lacked a counter-attack. He just stared at me with pressed lips before he marched across the room. Visitors craned their head after the star player with invisible question marks on their flabbergasted faces. I wanted to F-bomb the crap out of Pax but managed to keep my ego in check. Beside, a part of me still respected Pax’ accomplishments, no matter his vitriol. Why did celebrities often turn out to be assholes? Was it a curse?

  “Take another sip,” Yumi-D said and finished her White Russian. The white cream lingered on her lips and drew me in. I wanted to lean in and…

  A strange idea dawned on me.

  An idea so ridiculous it had to be mouthed.

  “What?” Yumi-D asked.

  “Do you think Holland is Rokkit?”

  “Wha-at?”

  Her mouth flapped open like a trap door. Like I uttered the most ridiculous sentence known to mankind. “He even talks like Rokkit, and he commands a Lancer.”

  Yumi-D cracked up and almost dropped the half-emptied White Russian glass from her manicured hands. “Yeah, you know what, maybe Holland is Rokkit, and he plays the Lancer to get close to you and up the bromance.”

  “You think?”

  Yumi-D almost face-palmed herself. “I can assure you Holland Pax is not into bromance”

  That was such an odd remark coming from her, it put me off. “How do you—?”

  Then it dawned on me. After all the hints and subtlety, the missing piece of information trickled down to my membrane.

  “You had something going with the Pax?”

  “Wow, look at your face. You’re genuinely surprised.”

  “You never told me.”

  “It’s all over the web.”

  Of course it was. But the last thing I looked up were player relationships. My life was busy enough and my world became stranger by the second. Everyone I knew seemed to be somehow related to someone else. It almost felt like the parallel version of Fourlando, where all the NPCs were linked to each other.

  “Hey, ease up, dude. You were thrown into the limelight and survived the crossfire. Pat yourself on the back.”

  “Don’t really feel like it.”

  She patted me instead and sent the warmest of all smiles. We sat down in a quiet spot near a wall-sized motion banner that showed 3D images from the event. Pictures from my heated encounter with the Pax played. Some folks glanced at us, but I didn’t care. I only cared for her.

  “You still don’t think Holland is Rokkit?”

  She chuckled again, but I was sure the second White Russian helped. Yumi-D even covered her mouth to avoid the liquid from bursting out. “What’s with that obsession about Pax and Rokkit?”

  “I still can’t believe how similar they are. Attitude, word choice, it all fits. Can’t be a coincidence.”

  Yumi-D played with her straw and stirred around the creamy ice cubes in her glass. They clang to each other like dwarf icebergs. “Maybe Rokkit is played by someone copying Holland’s attitude?”

  “Copy him? Holland is decent, even charming in public. I doubt many people know how he behaves in reality.”

  Yumi-D shrugged and rolled her eyes toward the neighboring tables. A not-so-subtle sign that she was done talking about the Pax. Me too.

  “Ahh, the world is full of mysteries, isn’t it?”

  “Just like Fourlando,” she said.

  “Just like Fourlando.”

  I finished my White Russian. “Talking about the magical land—have you checked out Fatebeater’s new VR set? I got one in my room, even though it’s not out on the market yet.”

  She shook her head but kept the intense eye contact. The lights of the chandelier reflected off her green iris. Just like that time back at the Austin game event, when we were dancing together to Aeonsmith.

  Zoning out the moment.

  Zapping into unity.

  “Sounds interesting.
Do you want to show me the VR suit?” Yumi asked with her head tilted.

  For the first time, I felt the sweat under my suit.

  Felt the heat sizzling through my body.

  “Sure.”

  We got up and left the bar. Walked out the VR expo building and passed the reception of my hotel. Strolled to my floor where few people walked by us. The two White Russians left their mark on me. I was still in command, but the feelings buzzed. Yumi-D pressed my right arm and I loved it. Electric fireflies whizzed through my body. Inside my room, I headed straight for the VR suit and showed her the composite-carbon-baby. Yumi-D sat down next to me and skittered close to my body. I could feel her heat pulsating through my shirt. Concentrating on the VR set proved tough, but I handed the gear over to her. “You wanna try it?”

  Her head brushed my shoulder.

  The smell of rice straw floated into my nose as Yumi’s gentle hand crawled into my crotch.

  “I want to try something else.”

  34

  Best. Night. Ever.

  Yeah, I sounded like a desperate teenager, but the sex department of Dashiell Boltzmann had been severely lacking funds lately.

  I woke up on my king-sized hotel bed and found the right side empty. The cliché chick flick moment, making me wonder if the magical night had really happened. I touched the warm bed sheet and recognized Yumi-D’s coconut scent. Sweet goodness. A deadwood print note with beautiful handwriting waited for me on the nightstand.

  Dashiell,

  Had to leave early for a session at 9 am. Loved yesterday, I hope you did, too. Don’t worry about Pax. He’s ten percent the man you are.

  See you later at the conference.

  Triple kiss,

  Yumi-to-the-D

  Yes. I pictured my own mission update:

  Quest: Woo Yumi-D

  Type: Love/romance

  Reward: Contextual experience, amazing sex (+1)

  I hit the steam showers and snapped a fresh Phoenix Up! lemonade from the room fridge. My body felt like a special attack charged to the brim. Ready to take on the world, and the moon, for that matter.

  According to the schedule, I had another three and half hours left until my next session. I took the occasion to test out the new Fatebeater VR suit. If the company spent a fortune on developing their own gear, I could at least try it out. Besides, I had to keep my fans happy. With so many pro players out there, crusading every single day, I had to hustle. If I didn’t, my audience would easily lose interest and check out the next stream. So I applied the gloves, put on the chest plates, and used the adaptive helmet that wrapped around my skull like artificial wax.

  The haptic sensation already ruled.

  The face shield scanned my eyes and logged me into the system. I followed the virtual instructions and calibrated the color, hue, and vibrancy, as well as the shock vibration levels. I tested the hand-to-eye coordination and adjusted the synchronicity. Unlike the other older VR gear, the new calibration took only a couple of minutes. A neuter voice even welcomed me into the system.

  “Welcome to the DeepDive full-immersion gear, Dashiell Boltzmann. The first VR hardware ever created by Fate Beater. I suggest you play for a maximum of two hours and fifteen minutes before your next event session starts.”

  Hold on a minute. Did the AI just lecture me on keeping a deadline?

  “You know my schedule?”

  “The DeepDive is connected with the mesh of the Fate Beater net. All timetables and event-specific dates are synchronized.”

  “That isn’t scary at all.”

  “We just want to ensure a fine transition between the VR experience and real-life.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She ignored my snark. “If you need any help, feel free to ping me.”

  “Right. I’d like to play now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Your wish is my wealth.”

  The game menu of the Crystal Crusade wrapped around my vision. Thanks to the quick biometric scan, I warped into the game world.

  Fourlando, here I went again, now better equipped than ever.

  35

  For the first time in a while, my character woke up in my favorite inn of the Cloudkiss mountain village. The infamous wooden-planked room with the iconic blue banners promised a clean future purged from the Reepo and the Syndicate. Basically the same propaganda from Sunblood, except in blue. Both factions wanted to defeat the enemy and promised a glorious future full of wealth and technological advances.

  I took my WarTech down the stairs and greeted the blue-haired NPC at the reception. My body cooked with so much passion my arm almost ripped off the torso.

  “A great day to you.”

  “Mmm,” the girl said while keeping her eyes locked on the reception book. I waited for another response, but it never fired. An awkward pause slipped into the moment.

  “Do you have a note from Balzac?”

  “What?”

  The girl seemed to awake from a distant dream. “No, nothing.”

  I walked up to her desk and tried to steal a glance from her pages. She planted both of her small hand palms on the notes. “Hey now, that’s private information for personnel only.”

  “Are you sure there’s no message from Balzac for me?”

  “I’m positive,” the girl said with a twang of annoyance rising in her voice. She wasn’t even trying to hide her passive-aggressiveness.

  “Maybe you haven’t searched thoroughly,” I said.

  “I’m pretty sure there’s not a single message waiting for you, Dash.”

  She stressed the ‘not’ part. Her words brimmed with a level of aggression that I had never seen before. Did my actions on the Western Crescent still impact the behavior of minor NPCs in the village? But why would an inn girl be concerned about my quests?

  Too many questions.

  “All righty,” I said and left the reception. The girl dove her head back into the book as if the conversation had never happened. Didn’t matter. While I had enjoyed her upbeat character in the past, the girl played no role in the grander scheme of things. She was an entertaining side-NPC. And instead of waiting for the message, I bolted straight to the observatory tower and tried to open the door.

  It was closed.

  “Balzac, it’s me, Dash,” I said to no avail.

  I waited for almost fifty seconds but no response echoed. I rang the bell again and knocked multiple times, hoping for a beep. Hoping for a message that told me everything was going to be all right. Well, I hoped in vain. So I stepped back from the door and craned my head toward the top dome ceiling of the observatory tower. Maybe the leader of the Blue Flame left one of his windows open to hear my pleads for attention. “Balzac? Can you hear me?”

  I called his name many times. The only answer came from the nearby trees as the winds whistled through the leaves. Weird. I slotted back to the central village and looked for any NPC that could help me out with my dilemma. As last time, most of the locals ignored me. I visited the newest buildings, which looked like a mix between a military training center and a craft workshop. In the fenced backyard, I found Balzac Spinoza lecturing a group of tinkerers. Mostly villagers, two pilgrims, and two Preshaar. I didn’t recognize them, but then again, they did all look alike. I had to call Balzac’s name again to demand his attention.

  “Sir?”

  He turned his head in slow-motion. “Dash.”

  “I was staying at the inn and waited for your message.”

  “As you can see, I’m still involved in a lot of meetings. We’re planning a new strategy to help our new allies fight back the Syndicate on their homeland.”

  “Need help?”

  The two Preshaar observed me. Couldn’t tell whether they were hostile or neutral. To me, it sounded like they were grounding their sharp teeth, but maybe I was hearing things.

  Balzac said, “I think it’s best to keep you away from the Crescent, at least for a while.”

  I read between the lines: you’re too
much of liability. We’re looking for someone else.

  “However, your help is greatly appreciated. Our Aeonlight allies need assistance with spreading their influence. And given that their relationship with you is still unstained, I’ll suggest you aid their ventures.”

  “Why do you want their help so badly?”

  “They’re powerful allies, Dash. Some of them are talented mages with incredible knowledge and abilities. Skills that complement our alliance’s portfolio.”

  The Preshaar nodded, like they were in favor of aiding the Aeonlights. Did Balzac want to help the Aeonlight followers in exchange for troop support back on the Western Crescent?

  Quest: Led by the Aeonlight

  Type: Rendezvous

  Description: Blue Flame leader Balzac wants you to travel back to Varmegarden to meet with Aeonlight representatives. They need support to grow their expanse in the wake of the Syndicate takeover.

  Rewards: 3,250 credits, cont. experience, 1x skillpoint

  A protection quest of the pilgrims—again?

  The 3,250 credits reward looked meager. Heck, the Sunblood Syndicate offered me five times that amount while I was their prisoner. Balzac watched my expression like a scientist who had discovered a new behavior from a primate. “You seem surprised. Reveal your worries.”

  “It’s just…I mean I once liberated an entire town from the Syndicate and now you’re giving me another irrelevant mission.”

  “Protecting our allies is of the utmost importance, Dash. Together with the Preshaar and the Aeonlight followers, we can defeat the Syndicate.”

  “Do you have another mission for me? Something with more impact?”

  I ditched my desire to loot for more experience points and rare items as that didn’t fit the Blue Flame narrative.

  “Provide the protection, Dash. Meet up with the Aeonlight representatives and offer your service.”