by Deck Davis
No, if the Wollenstein house prot-layer failed, and I didn’t have the bits to replace it, we’d have no choice but to go to Duisben. I didn’t know what the hell would become of Bennie, Retch, and our other three hounds. I couldn’t let that happen.
I looked beyond Dylan and noticed that the door to one of the smaller buildings, the one that held all of Dad’s old VBR tech, was open.
“Been practicing VBR again?”
Dylan scratched his head again. It was a nervous tick that I knew he was trying to train himself out of. “Thought about it…but the pups needed feeding. Besides, I never get anywhere. I’m too damn clumsy.”
“You gotta keep trying. Nobody ever became a pro the first time they linked their avatar. You have to keep going, keep training. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll see about getting you in a few solo-friendly matches. After that, who knows? Maybe you can get into the coal league.”
“Speaking of VBRs,” said Dylan. “I watched Bernli.”
“I know. You said, but I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Maybe later, yeah?”
As Dylan herded Bennie, Retch, and the others to their kennels at the back of the ranch, I headed into the house, where my avatar was syncing. The gel TV on the wall showed that it was 98% ready. I gestured at the display with my fingers and flipped it onto a mainnet channel, where a news show was playing.
Two newscasters, both middle-aged white men with impeccably-groomed hair and creaseless suits, were sitting behind a desk.
“And finally,” one of them said, “onto our biggest news of the night. As he ascended to his overseer chair for the first time, the newest Grand Overseer, Sternbuck, announced that New Eden will host—”
I stopped listening to the newscaster’s words and, instead, focused on the footage that was showing in the little box next to him as he spoke. It showed the latest New Eden Grand Overseer, a guy called Sternbuck, sitting on what looked like a throne. He wore the black robes of the overseers, but his were grander than the rest, with gems sparkling on his sleeves. It wasn’t the grandeur of Overseer Sternbuck that bothered me, though. What annoyed me most was that Overseer Lucas was standing next to him. He was obviously doing his best to be as close to Sternbuck as possible, no doubt trying to catch a little of the new overseer’s limelight.
I gestured angrily at the screen, and the image flipped back to my avatar menu.
Avatar Sync Complete!
Battle Report:
A thermometer appeared on the screen. Above it was a giant ‘7’. A blue bar began to rise up the thermometer, before hitting the top of it. The ‘7’ changed to an eight, and the thermometer drained of color.
Avatar leveled up to Level 8!
I knew that this would let me unlock a new rune slot—my third. The problem was that I didn’t have the bits to buy a rune to put in it. Speaking of bits, as soon as I dismissed the level-up screen, a new one appeared. In the background, there was an image of the Autumn Steampunk map. On top of it, flashed a message.
Final Battle Placing: 3rd
Prize Money: 1400 bits
Account balance: 1625 bits
Normally, 1400 bits was a decent amount to win, and this was my individual prize money, not just the team’s. The other guys would have gotten similar amounts. Maybe a few bits more or less, depending on how many other fighters they’d killed.
Now, though, 1400 bits annoyed me. We should have had a lot more. Not only should we have won, but our fenced bet should have earned us five digits. I needed to know what had happened. There was no point in putting it off now. I accessed the VBR footage archives and found that the Bernli feeds were newly uploaded. There were dozens of files available to view. First was the main feed, which showed the same view of the battle that the spectators had watched live. Next were the feeds for each individual fighter, where you could watch the battle through the eyes of someone who had been in it.
I could have logged into Sera’s feed, into Vorm’s, or into Clyde’s. I could have watched hours and hours of footage on a loop. I could have spent weeks reviewing the battle from every angle. Instead, I accessed my own feed again, and I skipped to the end of the battle, in front of Newtown Estate. There, I replayed the moment where I’d started to notice something wasn’t right. I watched Overseer Lucas in the crowd. I saw him nod at Sera, and then I saw her give a subtle nod back to him. I hadn’t imagined it. A signal had passed between them, and then, after that, my team had thrown the battle.
The question was why? Why throw the battle when there were only two teams left to fight? Why purposefully lose when we had the golden weapon cache—and with so many bits riding on us winning? It didn’t make any sense. We all needed the bet to come through. Vorm needed it for his family and so that his wife didn’t ‘take his balls.’ Clyde might not have needed the bits, but he needed a silver league win on his record to help his advancement. And Sera? She was mysterious about her motivations, but I knew she wanted the bits as much as I did. So, what was their game? Why purposefully sabotage the bet?
Also, what was Lucas’s part in all of this? Perhaps he had something on Sera and the others—some kind of secret. No, there was an even simpler explanation for Lucas’s involvement in this: He was doing it to get at me. Ever since we were kids, ever since everything that happened that led to Dad ending his fostering of Lucas…
The bastard! He’d somehow forced Sera and the others to throw the game. He had the means. Not only had Lucas managed to get adopted by one of the richest families in the country after he left us, but he was a New Eden overseer. In the VBR game, he was one of the most powerful figures, and he’d used his position against me.
I thought about getting a drink. I was sure I had some booze lying around somewhere. I needed a hit of something strong and sharp, something powerful enough to numb me for a little. Before I could do anything, a red-lined warning box appeared on my screen, accompanied by the sound of a klaxon. I read the text, and I felt my stomach drop.
Post-Battle Avatar Damage Report
Injuries sustained:
- Arm, leg and chest lacerations
- Skull fracture
- Stomach puncture
- Broken legs (left and right)
- Slipped disc
Reading the text took me back to the climax of the battle, after Sera and the others had committed VBR suicide and I’d rushed at Team Bassinger with my sword held above my head, hell-bent on fighting until they took me out. It had been a bloody end to the battle, and they’d made light work of me.
Seeing my avatar injury list brought home how savage VBR could be. It had hurt like hell since the Bernli overseer like to ramp up his pain meter, but it obviously hadn’t hurt as much as if I’d sustained the injuries for real.
More important than the injury list was the text that followed it.
Time to Heal: 8 months
Healing price: 8750 bits
I felt sick. Ever have a moment where bad news hits you with a sucker punch? When it sinks a knuckleduster-capped fist into your belly? I’d known that I would have some intensive healing to do, but nothing like this. Then again, what else could I have expected? We’d paid to jump from bronze into silver, and I knew the risks. When you paid bits to compete in a league above your status, you were taking a gamble. It meant that you could earn more bits in prize money, but it also meant that magnifiers were added to the injuries your avatar sustained.
That was it, then. Unless I waited eight months or found 8750 bits somewhere, my avatar was out of action. There would be no VBRs for me. Also, in eight months’ time, our house’s prot-layer would probably be kaput. I’d have to move to Duisben and try and find somewhere for Bennie and Retch and the others to stay, even though I knew that was impossible. Even if I found someone willing to take five Razta wolfhounds, they’d probably only do it so they could sell them back to the fighting circles.
Where was that booze again?
The sound of an engine shook me from my thoughts. I walked to the window and
looked out. Way across the ranch, where the road led out into the surrounding landscape, there was an s-car. The sunlight glinted off the blue panels on the roof, and thin trails of non-toxic mist seeped from the exhaust. I saw the license plate (5ERA L0X) and the dent on the bumper, and I knew whose car it was.
Sera was headed toward the ranch. I thought about going outside, waiting for Sera to pull up in her car, and then releasing Bennie and Retch on her with a ‘kill’ command. This would have been great, except the only way Bennie, the great big lug, could kill someone was if he somehow licked them to death. Not only that, but I would never have really provoked violence in the wolfhounds. The whole point of them being here was to get them away from the fighting rings.
Instead, I opened my front door and watched the s-car slow to a halt, never taking my eyes off the woman behind the wheel. As she was now closer, I saw that Vorm was with her. I kept my gaze on them. As much as I wanted to lock my door and tell them to get lost, I wasn’t the kind of person who hid from stuff.
Sera was the first out of the car. Her skin was a normal pale-pink color, rather than the green of her avatar. Her hair wasn’t shaved and, instead, was long on all sides. I always thought that Sera wanted to shave her head in a punk style deep down but didn’t dare go through with it. The appearance of her avatar was some kind of wish fulfillment.
Vorm, on the other hand, looked pretty much exactly like his avatar. He was a bulky man with a bald head, thick arms that looked muscled enough to pop a football between his armpit, and a belly swollen from junk food and beers. The only differences in Vorm’s real appearance were (a) the fact his upper-body was covered by a shirt and coat, and (b) he wasn’t chomping on a cigar. In real life, Vorm had quit smoking eighteen months earlier. Maybe his avatar cigar was just nostalgia for the days when he used to smoke.
When they approached me, I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I settled down on a chair and crossed my legs in what I hoped was a relaxed position. There was no way would I let them get to me.
Vorm was the first to the doorframe. He was so big, he seemed to fill it, like a thick cloud blocking the sun. He hovered there for a few seconds before Sera pushed by him with all the grace of a steam train.
“Thought we owed you an explanation,” was the first thing she said to me.
I was determined to keep my head, to be the bigger person. Unfortunately, my mouth didn’t follow the plan. “The only thing you owe me is 10,000 bits. After that, you can drive your Jidas ass out of my ranch.”
“I think you mean Judas,” said Sera. “Someone didn’t pay attention in ancient religion class at school.” She crossed the living room. There was a couch opposite the chair I was in. She stood in front of it and then slowly lowered herself down. She was wearing leather trousers so tight that they looked like they’d split with any sudden movements.
Vorm took a few clumsy steps across the room. He always had a nervousness about him that belied his size. It was like he knew how big he was, and so he always took extra care to appear friendly, polite and humble. Damn it, it was hard to be mad at Vorm. The guy was a big, friendly bear.
“Sit,” I growled. “Judas.”
Vorm took a seat next to Sera. He spread his legs wide and relaxed his right arm on the side of the couch. Sera crossed her legs.
“How’s your AV?” asked Sera.
“Come on. We don’t need small talk. What the hell are you doing here?”
“We came to explain,” said Vorm.
“What’s there to explain? You screwed me over.”
“Well, I can see how you’d think—” said Sera.
I leaned forward and spoke, cutting her off. “Let me see if I have this straight. You threw the match on purpose.”
Sera sighed. “It’s not as simple as that.”
“I’m not done. You threw the match, and if we had a bet on us to win, then doing that would cost you a hell of a lot of bits. So, it follows that you didn’t place the bet, right? Or maybe you did place the bet, but you gambled on us to lose. You scammed me, Sera. You took the team funds and you bet on us to lose, and then you made sure that happened. The only thing I can’t figure out is why you didn’t include me.”
“You’d never have agreed to lose on purpose,” said Sera. “You’re too principled.”
“Then I’m right?”
“Not exactly,” said Vorm.
“So, what happened?”
“It was Overseer Lucas,” said Sera. “He approached me before the VBR. He offered us a ridiculous number of bits to lose. He said if we did, not only would he reward us, but he’d start sponsoring the team. He’d get us new runes, a coach, a strategist. He said he’d get us up to the gold league.”
“And that’s all it takes to stab me in the back? Et tu, Bruce.”
“Brutus,” corrected Sera.
“Come on, Harry,” said Vorm. “You know what it’s like at home. I got six little buggers to feed. And you know how Rachelle’s is.”
I tried to swallow back my anger. Anger never got you anywhere. I repeated Dad’s mantra in my head: Speak when you’re angry, and you’ll make the best speech you’ll ever regret.
I stood up. “It’s best you get the hell out of here before I let Bennie and Retch loose.”
Vorm smiled. “C’mon, Har. That big beast? You know he loves me.”
Sera stood up. She offered her hand toward me. “It was never personal,” she said.
“I know damn well it wasn’t. Because I don’t know a thing about your life. Vorm, I can understand. He needs the bits for his family. And Clyde? Well, I know he always saw our team as a stepping stone. But what about you, Sera? I don’t know what your take is in this. Why’d you need the bits so bad you’d stick a dagger in my spine?”
It was then that Sera’s expression changed. For the first time, she dropped her cold, neutral exterior, and a look of sadness replaced it. It was an expression that didn’t seem right on her features. “My kid’s sick,” she said.
“You have a child?”
Even Vorm looked at her strangely. She’d never, ever mentioned having a child. Hell, I’d never even known where she’d lived. Vorm, Clyde and I had met Sera in a VBR recruitment bar, and she’d joined us to fill a temporary slot on our team. That was two years ago. After impressing us in the battle, we’d booted out James Jones, a flaky member of our unit who always had an excuse for missing practice, and we recruited Sera full time.
It amazed me how long you could know someone and not learn a thing about them, but, then, had I ever asked? I cut myself off from the guys, too. I never visited Vorm’s house to see his kids, and I never hung out with Clyde except when we were training. After practice, or after a VBR, I’d come back home, say hello to Dylan and the wolfhounds, and then shut myself off from everything.
Dylan always used to prod me about this. He asked why I didn’t have a girlfriend and why I never went into town for beers. Why d’you always lock yourself in like some mad, old hermit? he would ask. I never had an answer for him.
“I’m not going to explain myself,” said Sera, her cool exterior back in place. She offered her hand out toward me. “It was never personal.”
I kept my hand by my side. “It feels pretty personal. If Lucas approached you…why not tell me?”
“It was a condition of his deal,” said Vorm, with a tint of guilt in his voice. “He said we couldn’t tell you, that if we were gonna get sponsored, get the bits, we couldn’t include you.”
The bastard. After everything my family had done for Overseer Lucas when he was a kid… Mom and Dad’s conflicting mantras on anger clashed in my head. I pushed their voices out. “Then that’s it,” I said. “You’ve left Team Wolfhound. Thanks for telling me. You know the way out.”
Sera shook her head. “That’s the thing, Harry. Wolfhound’s still going… It’s only you that’s not in it anymore.”
“Lucas is putting us forward for the New Eden VBR,” said Vorm. “Y’know, the one they�
��re putting on to celebrate Overseer Sternbuck getting the hot seat? It’s going to be the biggest VBR ever, and we’re in it, even though we’re only bronze. It’s gonna be…” Then, he seemed to realize how inappropriate his enthusiasm was, and he lowered his tone. “Sorry, Harry.”
I looked at Sera. I realized that, although Vorm had apologized and had looked suitably guilty ever since he got here, Sera had never displayed an ounce of remorse. That was her way, I knew—blunt as hell, answering to nobody.
