The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  “Uh huh? It on your records where that is?”

  “Yeah. What’s yours?”

  “Anyone tries to sleep with my fiancé, hunt them down and kill them without hesitation. She better bloody miss me.”

  It sounded full of bravado, Wilsin knew it and Nick probably knew that he knew it. He could detect the traces in his voice, just a hint of worry. That made two of them. He was starting to regret it more and more that they’d come down here.

  “I’m sure she will,” he said reassuringly. “I mean…” It was then that he voiced something he’d spent some time wondering in recent times. “… Screw it; I’ll come out with it. How the hells did you end up with her? I mean she’s a right bloody catch.”

  “Yeah… Steady Dave, you’re sounding a bit jealous.”

  “Who wouldn’t be, I mean… Just… Seriously I want to know. How did you end up with her?”

  Nick laughed. “I’ll tell you if we make it out of here. Want to meet her hot cousin?”

  “She has a hot cousin?” he started to ask, before falling to a halt. Up ahead, something awaited them. It wasn’t bright, but in the distance, he could see the faint blue outline and it was enough to make him halt in his tracks.

  Apparently, Nick saw it too. “What is that?” he muttered aloud. “Think this looks like a trap?”

  “Could be,” Wilsin mused. “Bit obvious, isn’t it? What does it look like through the goggles? Bet we’ve got to go in that direction, right?”

  The look Nick gave him confirmed it. “Got it in one. Shall we then?” He raised his weapon, gave it one final check and grinned. “If we’re about to dance the death, then let us go find our partners.”

  On those succinct words, he took off at a run and reluctantly Wilsin followed him, hoping that he wasn’t about to regret doing so.

  The light got stronger the closer they got, Nick turned the corner first, Wilsin straight after him and they found themselves atop what appeared to be a cavern cut out of the rock underneath the island. Lights had been put up but they felt horribly insignificant compared to the magnificence of the blue that hovered towards the centre of the room, a gorgeous shade of azure that pulsed and writhed with all the incandescent fury of a storm and the malevolence of the dark ocean.

  Six great pillars held up the roof, all of them engraved with something that neither of them wanted to make out right now. Down below, the three identical men stood carrying BRO-60’s in uniform formation, waiting on the orders of the other man, a stooping figure with wispy mud coloured hair examining something in the darkness. Both could hear something in the distance, a low humming voice too quiet to completely make out. Yet even as it rose and fell, so did the blue orb above them, convulsing with the voice in perfect unison. Wilsin could smell that familiar copper scent, the odour of blood and he gasped. Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t anything good.

  Nick didn’t look fazed by the sights in front of him, he glanced left and right to check for cover before striding to the top of the steps leading down into the bowels of the makeshift arena they’d occupied, weapon held out in front of him. Apparently, he was satisfied with the wall that lined the edges of upper areas.

  Still reluctant, Wilsin followed him, painfully aware he was putting himself in the line of fire. This might not end prettily. He couldn’t keep his eyes off that orb. It was just so… shiny. It rippled like water the closer they got to it. Whatever purpose it served, something so pretty couldn’t be a threat. Surely. It’d be nice to believe that but somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to. Whatever it was, it was the main attraction in the room and instincts told him it was important.

  “Okay guys, break it up!” Nick shouted down. “I don’t know what you’re doing and I don’t want to know. All I’m going to say is surrender and nobody else has to die.”

  The triplets reacted a lot faster than Wilsin had expected, they’d set into motion the moment he’d spoken, their weapons coming up and spitting deadly fire in the direction of the two of them. Nick swore, spun out of the firing line and dropped behind the wall, already sidling along in a crouch along it as laser fire smashed through the bricks where he’d stood. Wilsin couldn’t help but notice as he sent a barrage of shots down towards them that he’d been right about the destructive power of the Broxtie when he’d been waxing lyrical about it earlier.

  “Of course, death is always an option!” he shouted, bringing another blast of fire down on the location of his voice. “Feel free to shoot, Davey!”

  What do you think I’m doing? Wilsin asked silently as he dropped into cover himself, raising the Broxtie up over the barrier and firing blind down into the pit as he heard a yell of pain over the sound of the repeated blasts. Confident he’d hit someone, hoping it wasn’t one wide of the mark that had tagged Nick; he withdrew the weapon and continued to move. Seconds later, the wall where he’d leaned was obliterated.

  Next thing he knew, he could see Nick firing down, the BRO-60 dancing in his arms, struggling to get free but he held tight. Their attention caught between two targets, Wilsin found the opening he needed to peek up and over, hoping he wasn’t going to catch one in the face as a reward or curiosity. One of the triplets was down in a pool of his own blood, the mud haired man had dived into the darkness and…

  DUCK!

  … the remaining two of the triplets were firing up into the air, one trying to lock on Nick, the other fixated on him. As he ducked, he smelled singed hair and breathed a sigh of relief, already kicking himself off the ground and further along out of sight before he decided to try firing blindly through the wall.

  Barely seconds had passed before he was proved right; the cover alongside him was suddenly shattered above him, shards of stone raining down on him. He winced as silvers of rock shredded his face, a dozen little cuts opening. He could taste the coppery tang of blood on his lips. But they’d given him an opening, where they’d fired through the walling he could see one of the remaining triplets pointing his weapon up towards him through the crack, seeking out just any sign of movement. If he timed it right, he could…

  Wilsin dropped the assault rifle, slipped a hand down to the weapon holstered at his waist in one fluid motion before slamming the barrel of his X7 against the open crack and emptied the pack as fast as he could pull the trigger, sending every shot in the direction of the man, mentally fist pumping the air as he heard a yell of pain and the sound of a weapon being dropped.

  … Do that. He ejected the spent pack and reloaded, before retrieving the dropped rifle. It had been a good ploy; he’d needed that control and speed that the rifle wouldn’t have given him in confined spaces. The extra range would have been nice but sometimes you couldn’t have everything. Fire enough shots and something had to land eventually. His old instructor would have had a fit with that ideology. It wasn’t an ideal strategy but he’d made do.

  Down below, the last of the triplets had given up focusing on Nick, he’d made the choice to follow the decision of the mud haired man and dip back into the shadows, apparently in hopes that they’d be able to protect him a little better. Wilsin rolled his eyes. If the three of them in the first place had had that sort of initiative, they might still be alive and he might have struggled.

  He met him halfway, Nick covered in dust and other various accumulus that had no doubt found its way here over the years, Wilsin looked down at himself and realised dolefully that he didn’t look much better. At least Nick hadn’t managed to get his face cut open.

  “Do I have to call you Bloody Davey now?” Nick asked, dropping down into a sitting position. “Nice shooting.”

  “I try,” Wilsin said modestly, ignoring the nickname comment. He really didn’t want one like that. Made him sound like some sort of mass murderer. Not his proudest achievement. “What we train for, right?”

  “Uh huh,” Nick didn’t really look like he was paying too much attention to the words; instead he craned his neck and studied the ground down below them as if with the intent to track the fo
otprints of the last triplet. He wiped the glasses with a finger, grimaced as he removed them and tried to find a dry part of his shirt to clean them off. “One left. And that other guy.” Above them, the orb continued to pulse, a wet slurping motion suddenly emerging from it. They looked at each other and shrugged. Maybe it was meant to do that.

  “I’m not comfortable with leaving this thing unchecked,” Wilsin said. “We need to find some way of shutting it down.”

  “Agreed. The other guy. Let’s try to take him alive. He looked like he might know what’s going on. I’d like to ask him a few questions,” Nick said, digging into his pack.

  “Let’s outline the situation. They’re down there below us. We can’t use the stairs, we’ll be open targets and our shields won’t stop a few Broxtie rounds for long.”

  “Suppose we could drop in on them,” Wilsin said. “I mean, you got a nylorope, right?” Nick nodded. “Me too. Tie up here, drop down on them. I wouldn’t see it coming.”

  “Maybe they might have more imagination than you,” Nick said. “It’s not the worst idea. But problem is, if the other guy is with him, it’s dark down there. Might hit him if we fire blindly. You don’t have these.” He tapped his glasses.

  “Did you just volunteer to go first?” Wilsin smiled. “That’s good of you. You drop, take the guy with the weapon out… You know where he is?”

  “Roughly,” Nick shrugged. “He’ll show up down here. It’s freezing. Any body heat will show up. I can see you fine on it. Unless he has masking technology which I doubt very much.” Sensor masking equipment was usually the size of a briefcase, very cumbersome and obvious as to its purpose. Given neither of them had seen any of the three wearing them, it felt a safe assumption.

  “So, what are you waiting for? An invite?”

  Nick grinned at him, grabbed his nylorope and hooked it to a knot in the wall, testing it to make sure it was secured. He clipped the other end to his belt and stood up, BRO-60 in his hands.

  “Don’t make me wait, yeah?” he grinned. “See you on the flipside, Dave.”

  Wilsin rolled his eyes as he started to go through the same process with his own nylorope, locking it onto a different securing point. “You’re making me think you’re holding out on…”

  Nick winked and stepped backwards off the edge, the nylorope holding firm and the moment he vanished, Wilsin heard the roar of Broxtie fire fill the cavern followed by a rather final strangled yelp and a scream, the tell-tale sound of a body hitting the ground rounding it off.

  “… Me,” he finished rather lamely before jumping himself, down into the gloom. The moment he hit the ground, another burst of laser fire struck the air and he snapped his own weapon up to defend himself, momentarily kicking himself as he realised it had been a warning. Nick stood unharmed and unconcerned, pointing it off into the darkness. Clearly, he could see something Wilsin couldn’t.

  “That was a warning,” he said. “I know you’re there. We can still end this in a civil fashion. Come on out and nobody else gets hurt.”

  He shot a sideways glance to Wilsin, shrugged and gestured with his head to go in and circle around behind him, before he carried on talking.

  “You don’t look like a fighter. Doesn’t mean you’re not one but I’d say you’re here for other reasons. This orb. What does it do?”

  No answer. Already Wilsin had slunk out into the dark, sidling around in search of the mud haired man. He knew it was a stupid idea. If he had something like what Nick employed, he’d be a sitting duck. He’d be seen in seconds and…

  Nick fired, Wilsin instinctively ducked but in that moment his surroundings were halfway illuminated and he caught a glimpse of his target stood leaning against a pillar. Deep breath and he lunged in that direction, to the feeling of his hands catching on something soft and warm as the darkness engulfed him again. That something quickly realised what was going on and reacted, panicked hands pushing away at him, slapping and grabbing. Not enough room to throw a punch properly, Wilsin realised, or maybe he genuinely isn’t a fighter like Nick had speculated.

  He, on the other hand, did know how to fight, even when denied light to see what he was doing. Blindly he threw a short punch in the direction of his attacker’s kidneys, felt it land and heard the breath being driven out of him. It sounded painful and he pressed it, using the sounds of pain to twist around and stamp on the side of the unseen man’s knee. There was a snap and a howl, he reached in and grabbed him in a chokehold, easily pulling him out into the light.

  “You… You broke my leg!” the man howled as Wilsin threw him down beneath the glowing of the orb. “Oh gods, I’ll never walk again.”

  “Could be worse,” Nick said. “Looks pretty bad to me.” He winked at Wilsin. “You don’t get help soon; it could really be bad for you, just my opinion.”

  “Now we would call for help for you,” Wilsin offered. “But there’s one small problem with that. The storm took down the communication net. While that’s ongoing, not much chance of getting someone down here.” He exhaled sharply. “Doubt you’ll be able to get back up there on your own as well. Still suppose we’ll help you up there, won’t we Agent?”

  “Oh yeah,” Nick said. “What the hells are you doing down here?”

  Despite the pain wracked shuddering that went through him, the mud haired man said nothing. Up close, he looked tired, dark bags under his eyes. Wilsin took him in; saw the long-dried stains of dark red on his shirt and coat, the crusts of it under his nails. An icy chill suddenly rushed through him; he reached out and patted down the man’s pockets, searching out for any sort of ID.

  “Look, there’s an easy way and a hard way. None of us want to do it the hard way. I’ve got better places to be right now, he does as well, so come on let’s just make this easy for everyone…”

  “Doctor Jeremiah Blut,” Wilsin said quickly. His fingers had closed around something hard and rectangular; he’d found the man’s ID card and read the name aloud. “What are we going to find on you when we feed your name through our computers?”

  Still he said nothing.

  “How’d you get that blood on you?” Nick asked softly. “Come on, Doc, it’s not a hard question.”

  That was when the attack came. And Wilsin never saw it coming.

  One moment he’d been fine, the next he felt something wrap around his waist, something thick and muscular, covered in suckers. He let out a yelp; Nick snapped his weapon up immediately, his eyes darting back and forth in search of the attack. Looking up past the flailing David Wilsin, already trying to get himself free, he saw the long appendage holding him, traced its path up all the way to the orb.

  Something was trying to get out. Or pull him in. One of the two. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even try to take the shot. The tentacle was blood red and covered in pulsing purple suckers, throbbing with muscle, Wilsin was yelling in terror. Nick grabbed his summoner, slammed a crystal into it and brought Empson out into existence.

  There’d been those who laughed at him for the use of one of his main spirits over the years when they’d heard what it was. After all what could a penguin do? When they saw Empson, the laughs had died down. After all, Empson wasn’t just a penguin. He was a Northern King Penguin, the superior cousin to the regular penguin. Added into Nick’s genetic modifications and what had already been three feet tall and a phenomenally strong bird for something its size had become almost a war machine. He’d doubled its height to be almost as tall as he was, the beak could now punch through steel…

  … As could the wings. The black and blue spirit sprang up into the air from a standing start, swept those razor-sharp wings through the air and brought them both cutting through the tentacle from opposing directions. Nick winced as he saw the momentary hesitation before they went through the muscle and scales, blood and ichor spurting out covering the four of them. Wilsin hit the ground as the tentacle withdrew back into the blue.

  “Empson, Uniblast that portal!” Nick ordered, jabbing a finger towards i
t for added emphasis. The penguin didn’t even hesitate, sent the beam of energy screeching up towards it. Blut laughed as it landed, Nick had been expecting a spectacular explosion but instead it faded out with a lame sucking sound, the energy ripped inside it.

  “Fools,” he laughed. “It needs an offering. Let it take you and it’ll all be over. It’ll only hurt a moment. I suppose anyway, I’ve never died to find out.” His laughter grew ever more maniacally until Wilsin kicked him in the mouth, silencing it beyond the sounds of breaking teeth. A second later, the fresh howls of pain started. Above them more tentacles flailed out of the orb, scraping the empty air lazily.

  “An offering, eh?” Nick said. “Looks like you just volunteered.” He reached down, scooped Blut up by the collar of his shirt. “You started this, doc, I think it’s fair you finish it.”

  Before Wilsin could stop him, he hurled Blut up towards the shimmering orb. Both flinched as another tentacle swept out and plucked the doctor from the air, then another and another, all taking hold of him. Fresh screams hit the musty air as Blut struggled weakly to get away, all to no avail.

  Wilsin couldn’t watch as he was drawn closer to the orb, his body already contorted under the pressure of the tentacles. And finally, just as it had when Empson had blasted at it, they heard the same sucking sound as before, concluded with one final scream of terror before the orb vanished with a sudden thunderclap, Blut with it, only a faint shimmering in the air left behind as evidence it had ever been there.

  That was when the two of them heard the voice, cutting in across their comm network.

  “… Agent Roper, do you respond? Agent Wilsin, what is your position? Can you hear me?”

  Wilsin responded first. “Will? It’s Wilsin here. We read you loud and clear. What’s happening out there?”

  “The storm,” Okocha said over the line. “It just stopped suddenly.” Nick and Wilsin looked at each other, then up at the area where the orb had been. “What is your position?”