McKenna watched the animations fly by the screen in unison with the commentators giving a rundown of the game’s mechanics. Many of the patrons in the lounge were watching in excitement.
“The game consists of two-player duels pitting their carefully constructed decks against each other in theoretical faction battles to the death,” Sybil continued. “A faction deck must consist of sixty cards with one faction Leader card, at least forty Fighting cards, and at least ten Force cards. Players start by a simple coin toss for first strike and then each player randomly draws ten cards from their deck for their entire three-round match, ready to duke it out.”
“And let's look at the unit types, Sybil,” Arnie said. “While every faction has very different looks and special abilities, they all consist of Air, Assault, and Techmage units. These units are placed in three separate planes according to their type and can only be affected by certain Fighting cards. This is called the Kill Trifecta. Each unit card has a strength number at the top of the card which adds to the faction leader’s overall score. Players will then take turns drawing cards from their hand and playing them on the field one at a time, constantly affecting their score. Force cards can both harm or bolster the score with effects such as drawing additional cards, doubling the strength of certain units, or even cutting certain units’ power in half, regardless of the player. Finally, those super cool Leader cards. Although the Leader card is passive and doesn’t directly add to the total strength of the ten-card hand, it can utilize a one-time unique ability to augment a player’s field units in various ways. Whichever player has the highest score once both players have either passed or extinguished their hand, the round is over. Best two out of three wins the match.”
“Well said, Arnie. Of course, as we both know, these fundamentals can be quickly turned upside down by leader-passive abilities, the same thing that draws us back every year. Even players with the most meticulously balanced decks find themselves in challenges, and that's what the crowd loves to see.”
“Well, Sybil, that covers the basics. Could you break down the actual tournament?”
“The tournament consists of preliminary, semifinals, then finals. The preliminary matches are going to weed out the faint of heart and novice players fairly quickly. The semifinals are where our powerhouses will reveal themselves and then finally we can see the best of the best duke it out in the finals. So, without further delay, let's jump down to the action.”
Kimmy crossed her arms. Her first competitor, Garth, stared her down with a smug smile. He was a large man, around four hundred pounds. His scruffy beard and bald head went in line with his cheaply fashioned two-piece suit.
Kimmy returned a smile, her eyes cold as steel. Garth’s smile dropped as he then let concern overcome him. In truth, Kimmy was excited; the game was a rush to her. When she wasn't hacking the most coveted security systems or on the run from Wordhunters, Sol-Fate served as a pleasant medium for her. It didn't hurt that she had a natural knack for the game. She couldn't help but feel anxious too, as she wanted to make short work of the weaker players. A chime was heard followed by a female synthetic voice.
“PLAYERS: PLEASE ADMINSTER DECKS.”
Kimmy watched the table between them light up a bright blue. There was a holographic section for the deck itself, the Leader cards, and the discard pile. Kimmy placed her deck on the designated blinking slot. Once her opponent did the same, a holographic coin appeared and hovered over the setup.
“Tails,” Kimmy said.
“I… uh… heads,” Garth mumbled.
The coin began to spin and then finally came to a stop. Heads. Garth smiled.
They both drew their ten cards and held them in their hands, carefully studying a possible strategy out of the random cards. The first thing Kimmy always looked at was the Leader cards themselves. It was important to know what special abilities the enemy leader was sporting. Her opponent was fielding a Bot Opposition faction deck. The factions themselves mattered little; however, certain factions gained special bonuses unique to that faction.
“Well, big guy, let's get this over with,” Kimmy said.
Her opponent was free to lay any number of his ten cards down. As he laid six cards in their places, lifelike holographic representations of the cards appeared above them, a luxury of the advanced dueling table they sat at. Kimmy couldn't have been more pleased with her hand. Each of her units had a rating of five or over and were balanced, just as she intended, with two Air units, three Techmages, three Assault units, and two Force cards that could severely weaken her opponent’s score.
Her opponent's hand couldn't have been more disappointing, however. He clearly bolstered Assault units, as he had many of them. His score rose quickly only to be cut to a fraction when Kimmy laid down her Force card that brought each Assault unit down to a rating of one.
“Take your shot, good sir,” Kimmy said.
Garth watched in horror as he saw his Assault units become pitiful, equaling out to a total score of five. Although Kimmy’s Assault units would suffer as well, her balanced deck gave her Techmages and Air units to add to the trifecta, raising her score over twenty. Garth had nearly extinguished his entire ten-card hand in the first round, a novice mistake. Kimmy smiled, as she could easily see the fate of her opponent and many more novices to come.
Dill spun in his chair at the loud crash of the door as another defeated opponent stormed into the room. The Gauntlet was properly named, as the matches smoked out the weaker players and the lounge was quickly filling with such.
“There goes another one,” McKenna said as he watched the eliminated opponent pout to some other patrons.
“Was that one of Kimmy’s victims?” Dill asked as he watched the screen above.
“She’s knocking ‘em dead, alright.” McKenna wasn’t as worried after seeing Kimmy’s onslaught. The girl was backing up everything she said. Speakeasy walked to the counter beside McKenna and Dill, trying not to take his eyes off the screen.
“She’s just getting started, I think,” Speakeasy said as he climbed up the stool. “There’s so many novices here, I’m beginning to think there should be qualifying first.”
“I guess everyone deserves a shot,” McKenna said as he took a sip of his bourbon, Dill doing the same with his Long Island Iced Tea. Speakeasy just looked back and forth at the two of them.
“I know you two are very grateful for team members being allowed free drinks, but are you two going to be fit for your events? Is that your seventh? Your eighth drink, McKenna?”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” McKenna smirked.
“Yeah,” Dill said as he sipped on the straw of his drink while playing a mobile game on his OPIaA. “It’s only his sixth,” Dill chuckled.
“Six Long Island Iced Teas isn’t much better, Mister Roberts.”
“It’s just rare to find a bot-tender that knows what he’s doing.” Dill burped. The bot behind the counter booped and waved at the compliment. McKenna was quick to reassure.
“When I was a cadet, the seniors passed out this homemade hooch on marches. Shit was bad, not too far removed from bio-fuel. Put a hell of a tolerance in us. Plus, the Meto-Booster augmentation in my liver, stomach, and small intestine probably play a part. It’s really hard for me to get drunk, Speak. But hey, it lets me enjoy the flavor a bit longer, right?”
McKenna finished off the rest of his glass and slapped it on the table. “Roberts, however, I can’t speak for.”
“Don’t bother,” Dill groaned as he stood up stretching. “I’m just going to go piss it all out. If I start seeing two McKennas, I’ll take a detox-pen.” Dill walked off and to the nearest restroom. Speakeasy looked on in horror at Roberts as he walked away.
“Don’t worry, I plan on making him take one anyway. You think I’d let him drink and race?”
“Yeah…” Speakeasy chuckled nervously.
“So, Speak, how did Kimmy get so good at all this? Some card game isn’t what I expected her to excel at,
” McKenna asked.
“She grew up in rough spots, raised by a couple of different gangs including Hasker’s. She was a bit different than a typical ganger of her age. Whenever she had time she would go out and collect the cards, play some people, win against some people. I think it just took her mind off the routine wet jobs the gangs do on a daily basis. You could say she never really fit in with them.”
“So, you knew her when she was growing up?”
“Practically raised her. Before she was with the Syndicate, she was one of the Lost. She deserves a better life than what she was dealt and she’s not the only case down here. I know the uppercity sees us all as savages and ferals down here and would rather see us disappear. We don’t choose the world we’re brought into, but it’s the world we find ourselves in.”
“Yeah, I can drink to that.”
Despite Dill’s earlier suspicions, McKenna slowly started to diminish any doubt he had of Kimmy’s allegiances.
Dill stood in front of the urinal in the empty restroom, relieving himself. He looked at his hand to see the shaking had subsided. The alcohol was more a way to control his condition without the Blood Rose than it was about having a friendly drink, something he didn’t care to admit to the rest. He was extremely nervous about the upcoming Warp One race, provoking his condition periodically without even engaging in strenuous activity. He hadn’t been on a pursuit bike in years.
Only the steel-nerved could tame the fast and precise movements a bike could provide and such a rush used to excite Dill more than anything. Now the mere thought of getting on the modified racers was daunting. Luckily, the alcohol helped to keep it at bay. Dill’s relief was finished as he zipped his fly and looked at the mirror in front of him. He saw his reflection and saw the red in his eye, an emerging symptom of the Blood Rose.
“Damn Auroran was right…” Dill mumbled.
There was another mirror above the sink counter behind him, giving him a mirrored view of his back but, oddly, a blurry image of himself standing at the urinal. He blinked a few times only to see the blur shimmer. “I know I’m not that smashed…”
The shimmer then moved quickly towards him, forcing Dill to move quickly to the side as the blur flickered into a silhouette of a man after stabbing the wall, revealing him briefly before cloaking again. Dill backed up further, trying to focus on the cloak.
“Dastardly low of you, ain’t it, mate?”
“Shut the hell up,” the cloaked man said.
He rushed Dill quickly; the blade was hidden but Dill quickly moved to his right as the blade got stuck in the toilet stall beside him. At such close range, the cloak hardly mattered as Dill could easily see the distortion in front of him and even smell him.
Dill kicked him while he was preoccupied with the stuck blade, crashing him into the wall behind and losing the knife in the process. The force smashed the cloaking module, revealing the Wordhunter Blake. He saw the Hasker symbol on his jacket, to his surprise, expecting the Golden Bough.
Dill backed up with his fists raised. He almost reached for his pistol but it would be hard to explain why he killed one of Hasker’s men in the bathroom in their own complex. Dill didn’t mind teaching him a lesson though.
“Not playing by your own rules, mate. What kind of example is that?” Blake dusted himself off and darted forward with a punch. Dill swiped it away and punched him across the face before moving away again. “Does Hasker know what you’re up to in the little boy’s room?”
“Who do you think sent me, cop?” Blake said as he rubbed his bruised cheek.
“What exactly do you think is going to happen when you kill me during the ceasefire?”
“Ha, this is our house. You think we can’t shift your body as quickly as we can kill you?”
“You’re not doing too slick on time.”
“Oh, don’t worry, though. I’m not going to kill you, just beat you until you can’t grip the wheel of that warp bike, pal!”
Blake ran forward, tackling Dill to the ground and sending blows to his ribs. Dill head-butted him and drove his knee into Blake’s stomach before rolling him off. As they got up, Dill charged into Blake, slamming him into the wall behind and sending his fist repeatedly against Blake’s face. Blake threw off Dill, forcing him into the wall opposite of them. Dill panted, trying to regain his breath.
Blake cocked his fist to form a perfect haymaker and sent it flying towards Dill’s face, but Dill moved at the last second and Blake’s fist met the wall, breaking a couple of fingers. Blake held his hand and grunted in pain while Dill moved to the side to grab his shoulders and rammed his head into the porcelain urinal beneath, hearing the clink as his head hit it. Blake groaned and slurred as he tried to speak before slumping down. Dill picked him from the ground and dusted his clothes.
“Come on then, mate. You’re alright,” Dill said. Blake slurred again as Dill moved him in front of one of the toilet stalls. “Tell Hasker to piss off out of our business, yeah?” Dill slapped Blake lightly. He tried to murmur something, but no words came out. Dill then shoved him into the stall, Blake’s face falling into the toilet. “Pillock.”
Dill straightened out his jacket and turned to see a patron watching almost in disbelief at the door. Dill looked back at Blake who was already unconscious. He walked to the sink and washed his hands casually as the patron looked more puzzled than ever.
“Poor hosts, them.”
McKenna watched as Dill sat back down at the stool, taking a deep breath and then combing his hair back.
“You washed your hands, I hope?” McKenna obviously noticed Dill was distressed.
“After that, you bet, sir.” McKenna shrugged as Dill began taking a drink of water from a glass. “I could be wrong, but I think Hasker may be a bit threatened by us.”
“What makes you say that?” Dill looked back to the restroom, McKenna looking as well. They both saw Blake stumble out of the lounge, shaking his head to try and regain his full self before tending to his wounds.
“Huh,” McKenna mumbled. “You think they had something to do with Kimmy’s fancy card going missing?”
“Possibly. They want me out of the Warp One race. They come after you when you’re the best, right?”
“Well, he knows she’s here. He wouldn’t give a damn about us if we were just ordinary competitors. He might be trying to get rid of us to get to her. Just be on your guard.”
“Even when I’m in the loo, sir?” Dill smiled.
“Especially then,” McKenna said as he took another sip of his drink.
5
OPPORTUNISTS
Kimmy wandered around the massive room, stretching her arms and legs. The Gauntlet matches moved so fast, a player had no time to celebrate even the smallest victories and the losers had no time to shed even the first tear. Kimmy didn’t lose a single match, nor a single round for that matter, against any of her challengers. It gave her a bit of confidence, but she knew better to get cocky over the novices. She wasn’t worried just yet, but that might change after the short recess.
She looked to see many of the semi-finalists standing about mingling with others. She was among a different league of players now, each of them worthy opponents. She walked past a man leaning against the wall when she heard him speak up.
“Hey, you,” the man said.
He looked reserved. Arms crossed, looking down. Kimmy stopped to get a look at him. He was around Kimmy’s age, or looked it. Judging by his wardrobe, he wasn’t from Red Sector but had more than likely flocked from elsewhere to partake in the tournament.
He wore an incredibly worn brown bomber jacket with dark tan dungaree pants and western boots. Some of his outfit was worn but it was overall presentable compared to most underdwellers. Subtle features on his face made him easy on the eyes to Kimmy. Short, spiky hair, light brown eyes, a shadow of a beard, and a smile that was as charming as the highest-paid movie stars.
“Nice going in the preliminaries. Should I be watching out for The Mysterious Stra
nger?” Kimmy eyeballed the man closely, suspicion in her eyes. “I see you don’t have many friends around here,” he said as he looked around, curious as to why she was a loner.
“Why would I need friends when I’m playing cards?”
“Just an observation is all. It’s something I enjoy most fiercely, observing that is. You can tell quite a tale on someone just from observing for a few minutes. Most of the players you see left standing are prestigious in some rite, knowing or meeting each other from elsewhere. Save for outside this room, they all seem to get along with each other.”
Kimmy looked around to see that all the players left were mainly businessmen and the super-rich. Most were enjoying themselves and chatting with others. Sol-Fate aroused all walks of life.
“I’m new around here myself. First time playing professionally. Thought I’d see what the fuss is but, honestly, there’s a bit of a stench in the air that I just can’t get past. Might not come back.”
“So, do you normally enter high stakes tournaments just to observe the fun of it, Mister—?”
He cleared his throat, almost off guard. “Clint. Forgive my mannerisms, but Clint will have to do,” Clint said as he extended his hand. “I’m trying to blend in with the rude ball-scratching crowd down here.”
“Well, if you don’t have a scar, aren’t littered in tattoos, haven’t killed people, and to my immediate knowledge, aren’t a lying degenerate, you’ll stand out pretty fast, Mister Clint.” Kimmy crossed her arms, not returning the gesture, still wary of Clint’s intentions. Clint retracted his hand, not entirely offended. “I guess you at least know how to play Sol-Fate if you’re still standing.”
“Yeah, I play, just for kicks though. I guess it helps that I have a slight knack for the game, but not my first choice for extreme gambling.”
“Risky hobbies, Mister Clint. It must have cost a lot of credits just to walk in here and compete, and you don’t strike me as a guy who throws away his money carelessly.”
The Bloodlust: (Volume Three of the Virion Series) Page 5
