Syndicate Slayer: The Crystal Crusade Book 2

by Mars Dorian

  “Where’d you get that shirt from?”

  “I bought it from an online retailer.”

  “Which one?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  The young lady seemed a bit flabbergasted. “It’s official merch, I promise!”

  Couldn’t be official, because I just signed my contract with Susan Cohen and we hadn’t done any merchandise talking yet. So the T-shirt had to be black market, but I couldn’t blame the girl, especially not since she seemed to be a genuine fan. I immediately disarmed my voice. “It’s cool. Thanks for supporting me.”

  The tension in her face made way for relief. “I’m not much of a gamer, but I like watching your streams. There’s something different about yours.”

  “Thanks. I try my best to keep the Crusade weird.”

  I made a quick memo in my mind: ask Susan Cohen about merchandise and settle the score.

  After signing hundreds of autographs, I joined the express VIP lane and entered the reception area of the convention center. Hordes rushed through the hall and channelled to the various booths of the main hall. And I thought the Austin game event was huge…

  Not even close.

  A few more folks greeted me in the hallway. I decided to go back to my hotel Susan had booked, which was thankfully just around the corner.

  I chose the stairs and passed the door scanner on the third floor.

  Finally, my own little kingdom.

  I stashed my stuff in the closet, dropped my backpack on the soft, king-sized bed, and noticed the terminal with the attached VR suit set. A premium black version with a glossy layer, looking like a freaking smart armor space marines would wear to deflect projectiles. My tired legs pushed my body toward the terminal. I checked the chest plates, the helmet face shield, and the state-of-the-art smart gloves. The smooth composite carbon material cried out to my hands. I just wanted to wipe over the surface over and over and over again.

  Still, the design befuddled me.

  I was no VR equipment expert, but I had never seen this model, even though Sparrow had showed me various sets. Curiosity burned, so I used my wristband to scan the model. The analyzer told me this version was slotted for a summer release. The name of the company was none other than Fate Beater Inc, the corporation behind the Crystal Crusade.

  Cray-zee.

  They were known for creating VR software but never ventured into the hardware market, as far as I knew. Looked like Fate Beater wanted to control both the games AND how they were played. Couldn’t blame them—the company earned billions from the Crystal Crusade. It was only a matter of time before they expanded their market domination. I was tempted to check out the new VR suit but also needed to rest. Plus, I had to calibrate the VR in-game controls and the hand-to-eye coordination, which would have taken me another ten to fifteen minutes.

  Too troublesome.

  During the next two days, I’d find time to spend a couple of hours. Instead, I body-slammed the bed and stretched my limbs. I added an alarm so I could doze off for an hour but destiny wouldn’t let me. The VIP ring of Susan Cohen called me. Again.

  Sigh.

  I was tired but couldn’t ignore my agent. She of all the people allowed me to make my first money from the game, so I picked up.

  “Hello, Mrs. Cohen.”

  “Judging from your geo-tag, you’ve finally arrived in San Diego. Enjoying your king-sized bed?”

  “Mmm.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Well, on my way to the lobby, I met a fan girl wearing an evil Dash WarTech shirt.”

  “Did she make it?”

  “She said she bought it from an online retailer she couldn’t name.”

  “I haven’t commissioned any merchandise yet, so it’s definitely a fake. We could sue her, but dragging your fans to court is serious brand damage, especially when you’re just starting out.”

  She paused and produced her infamous I’m-pondering-deeply sighs.

  “For now, we will let it slide. I will, however, talk to my intellectual property lawyer and sort things out for the future. We don’t want to encourage a blackmarket industry leeching off your success.” Her wristband jingled. Probably another client. “Please get ready now,” she said in a hurry. “Fate Beater has set-up a discussion on their main stage in hall C4. I’ve managed to sneak you inside the discussion for more exposure.”

  “When?”

  “In about forty minutes.”

  My body shot up like a vertical copter. “What? I didn’t prepare anything.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s basically a Q&A session with new and seasoned pro players. You were scheduled for tomorrow, but a guest dropped out today. I normally don’t do last minute swaps, but since you’re relatively unknown, we have to use every chance for free exposure.”

  Sometimes I believed my agent put extra pressure on me just to see if I’d crack. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just be yourself.”

  “Who else is speaking?”

  Pause. Her hesitation worried me. Susan never halted. She spoke faster than a semi-automatic.

  “Don’t worry about that. Focus on your performance.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll have to take that call, Dashiell. Get ready for the talk, meet your fans and have some fun along the way. You’re a pro player now.”

  Not really, judging from my bank account. But the money had to come. Eventually.

  “All right.”

  She hung up on me. No leisure for the Crusader. I rolled around the bed and took a steam shower. Even this premium suite wouldn’t allow me to wash with water. California’s drought ruled on. A ping arrived and showed me the 3D waypoint markers leading to the panel discussions. I put on my best clothes featuring the Crystal Crusade logo on the chest and gelled my hair, took the elevator down, and walked all the way back to VR expo center. Dozens of visitors noticed me in the hall.

  “Go, go, Dash.”

  Some frowned, as usual. They even boo’d but quickly dove their heads into the masses so I couldn’t pinpoint them. Cowards. I met up with crew members of stage C4. A woman hooked to the intercom approached me with calculated steps. She looked like a mix between an office assistant and a holo-theater event planner.

  “Dashiell Boltzmann?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re late.”

  “My agent just told me about the switch-up.”

  She pressed her lips but refrained from scolding me. What was she about to do? They had to fill the spot today. “Did you read the manual on discussing respectfully?”

  Nope, I didn’t even know it existed. “I glanced over it.”

  “Just avoid being political and keep your language respectful. We have visitors from over seventy-eight countries in the audience as well as clean-speech supervisors from the government. We don’t want any trouble with them, okay?”

  “Understood.”

  “Good.” She waved another woman over who arrived with a little suitcase which she flipped open.

  “Do what you can; you have five minutes.”

  The lady sighed but opened her suitcase. A barrage of colors and brushes revealed themselves to me. “I’m not going to turn you into an Adonis, but I can mitigate the damage.”

  “Always helps.”

  The lady brushed my face and applied make-up. Midway through the motion, the crew member from before pulled my arm and dragged me toward the backstage. “You remember your notes?”

  “Notes?”

  She rolled her eyes and ordered me to wait next to the curtains. “The topic is ‘moral choices of the Crystal Crusade’.”

  “We’re talking about morality and you don’t want me to be political?”

  “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

  I looked through the curtain. An army of followers waited in front of the stage. As if half the convention guests flocked to the discussion to see me and a bunch of other pro players speak. Damn, pressure go easy on me.

  I
closed my eyes and mumbled a mantra from the game.

  Aeons, be kind to me and shine upon my path.

  Ridiculous, I know, but no one could access my thoughts. A stage person tapped my shoulder and barked into her wristband. “It’s time for you.”

  “Right.”

  I walked up the stage and targeted the four seats on the stage. The host was that Asian woman I had seen in my feeds before.

  The spotlights blinded me to my right.

  For the better, because the glaze turned the massive audience into one mushy pile of silhouettes, which chipped off some of the tension. I shielded my right eye from the light and focused on the chairs and table in front of me.

  Two players sat in front of me.

  One of them was an unknown, the other was Holland Pax.

  32

  A stun attack paralyzed my limbs. At least that’s how I felt like. I expected a status effect message curving around my vision: Warning! Your movement is reduced by fifty percent for fifteen seconds. Unlike in the game world though, there was no potion-based remedy. Only reality sitting in front of me, in the form of the Crystal Crusade’s most famous player.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Holland said with his legs casually crossed. He expressed a confident smile, like he was born in the spotlight. “I’m not going to chop off your head.”

  The audience laughed. At his stage of fame, he could release a dry fart and people would applaud. I cranked my stiff body to the vacant seat in front of Holland and sat down.

  “What, no handshake?” he said.

  “Ahh, I’m sorry.”

  I bent forward, shook his hand and realized the amount of sweat dripping from my hands. I swear I could hear the drops dripping on the hot stage floor.

  Drip.

  Drop.

  Drip.

  Holland’s smile stayed on his chiseled face while he wiped his hand palm on the left side of his nano-fibered jeans. I pretended not to notice his gesture and focused on the female host, Jeena Ng.

  “Everyone, please give a warm applause for Dashiell Boltzmann, the notorious WarTech.”

  The people cheered and clapped. Whistles sounded from the audience. Some folks even chanted my name. I shielded my eyes from the stage light and tried to recognize anyone in the audience, but it was hard to see anyone’s face.

  “You’re pretty nervous for a Sunblood soldier,” Holland said.

  Chuckles from the audience.

  “I’m not a Sunbleeder anymore.”

  “Don’t be nervous, Dashiell, it’s okay.”

  “Nervousness keeps my senses sharp.”

  “No need for sharp senses. We’re all friends here.”

  Host Ng said shuffled around her cards. “So, Dash, you’ve chosen a very interesting path. First you pick the War Technician, which is the least played class in the Crystal Crusade. And then you’ve switched from helping the Blue Flame Rebellion to joining the Sunblood Syndicate. Do you want to share your reasons?”

  I had to watch my words now. Camera drones were filming my every gesture and statement, and I needed to come across as sponsor-friendly despite my dark path. Not to forget minding the clean-speech supervisors in the audience.

  “Well, if you followed my stream, you could see I was trying to escape the Syndicate, but the Preshaar kept on attacking me despite my peaceful offers. It was just self-defense, really.”

  Silence in the audience. Some even sighed, especially Holland. “I don’t know, Dashiell. I watched some of your streams and saw you beating the crap out of the Preshaar. You could have easily escaped countless times but you chose to stay with the Syndicate.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of complicated.”

  “But is it, really?”

  “Despite my temporary gig with the Syndicate, I helped the Preshaar leader fight back, didn’t I?”

  Host Ng nodded with only half her attention. Her eyes rolled back to Holland who seemed more attentive. “What’s your take on joining the dark side, Holland?”

  Finally the pressure off me, or so I thought.

  “Well, the game AI obviously allows you to pick any side; that’s one reason why the Crystal Crusade is a masterpiece. And to be frank, even I flirted with joining the corrupt side. But then I thought about the moral implications. I mean, do I really want to become a citizen slayer and oppress marginalized races such as the Preshaar? I believe our world has seen enough imperialism from privileged rulers that have abused their powers throughout time. There’s no need to propagate that kind of narrative, not even in virtual form.”

  Holland’s words made me sound like some kind of ancient emperor enslaving the local populace. I wanted to defend myself but he continued. “The Blue Flame rebellion is the movement that is somewhat similar to my real world aspirations. That’s why I chose to join them. Even in a sci-fi fantasy VR game, we have to stand up against oppressors.” He looked at the audience with a media-proof smile. “It’s not a choice, but a moral duty.”

  People clapped and whistled. The host nodded with a permanent smile edged on her moon-shaped face.

  Holland kept on blabbering, and it made me sound like a part-time psychopath. I had no choice but to interrupt him. “Holland, we’re still talking about a game, right? As real as the Preshaar and the Blue Flame feel like, they’re still numbers and zeroes.”

  Holland was about to say something, but I added, “Besides, to understand what good entails, you have to understand the dark side of humanity, especially in a safe environment such as the Crystal Crusade. I think the genius of the game is that one is allowed to experience the full spectrum of morality without hurting anyone.”

  Host Ng nodded with open eyes. Some in the audience even clapped which is always good. Holland smiled, but it looked forced. More like a grimace than a genuine smile. His green eyes focused on mine and burned the space around us.

  “You have got a decent amount of viewers on your stream, Dashiell. Not nearly as many as I, but still, young people watch your Crusade and see you as a role model. They see you killing innocent beast men in the form of a high-tech invasion. What prevents them from going to school and repeating the same power dynamics with people they consider lesser?”

  “Are you implying that kids can’t tell the difference between reality and games?”

  “I’m saying that you’re being a bad role model to young kids and that you should take more responsibility, especially considering your background.”

  “Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  The air dried out. Only the humming of the camera drones became discernible. The host cleared her throat and addressed the audience. “Hah, all this energy, woooh. And you thought only battles in Fourlando get fierce, eh?” She released a nervous chuckle. “I think we should take some questions from the audience. Everyone, please ping the official session account and a crew member will bring a mic to your place.”

  The host tried to distract from the heated discussion, and I welcomed it. One more layer of tension and the stage would have imploded. The spotlight dimmed its light and allowed me to gaze into the audience. An Asian girl stood next to a crew member and lifted the mic to her slender lips.

  “Hey, everyone, first of all, I’ve been a huuuuge CC fan for almost five years now and love watching various streams.”

  “Thank you,” host Ng said. “What’s your question?”

  The girl glanced at my direction. “This one is for Dash. A friend of mine is a WarTech player and found your stream early on. Your views and subscribers have been skyrocketing lately. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks a lot. I still can’t believe it.”

  The host pressed on. “Do you have question for Dashiell?”

  “Yes, sorry. Dash, do you think you will become an even bigger player than Holland Pax? And if yes, do you believe that your brief game affiliation with a ruthless organization such as the Syndicate says a lot about the state of the world?”

  Oh boy.

  Talking about deescalating the
situation. The host to my left twitched. She probably expected some easy questions from the audience, like ‘What’s your favorite food’ or ‘why don’t you cosplay as a WarTech’?

  But no, not with this audience and definitely not with my playing style. The cam drones hovered around me and clicked their lenses. Even Holland The Pax was hanging onto my lips.

  “Well, to be honest, I think we’re living in a fake age and people are desperate for authenticity. Most celebrities lecture audiences and present themselves as angels when they’re really pretentious slime balls.”

  The host cleared her throat, which must have been desert-dry by now. Holland grinned at me, but it looked more like he was trying to prevent a turd from flushing out his mouth.

  “Besides,” I said, “Who doesn’t like to flirt with the darkness?”

  Chuckles from the audience. “Flirt with the darkness, I like that,” the host said and unleashed a trained grin. “It looks like we’re running out of time; sorry, guys. Well, you have been an amaaaazing audience tonight. Give a round of applause for our three Crystal Crusaders here.”

  I just realized there was another player sitting to the left of Holland, but he had been keeping quiet for the event. The audience cheered and clapped. I stood up and headed straight for the backstage exit. The second I reached the shielded area in the backstage, the weight of heavy armor lifted off my shoulders. The remedy burned out quickly. A strong tap hit me.

  It belonged to Holland.

  “Don’t worry, I also sucked during my first open discussion.” His grin widened. “The light, the audience, and then the high-value guests—it can be a bit much for a trailer park boy.”

  He passed me by and joined groupies with backstage access. My wristband vibrated. The agent called me and I feared the worst. Was she going to fire me for my remarks? Did I violate the clean-speech laws of California? Paranoid worries took my mind hostage. I picked up the call anyway.

  Susan said, “I just watched the official live stream of your conversation.”

  “Let me guess, you fire me?”

  “What?”

  “So you aren’t?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Dashiell. Yes, you need some media sensitivity training but your snark fit your personal brand. After all, you’re marked as the rebel player who flirts with the darkness. I’m already working on a nerdy bad boy image that is both snarky and likable while respecting the law.”