Devil's Waltz

by Dante Sakurai

  In a millisecond, his expected thank-you message came.

  Rowan Black: That’s a good girl. Was just about to message you.

  Gabby LeMort: I’m the goodest girl! Dun’ forget that.

  His corpse regained health in a surge of her mana, draining her down to 50% for a brief jiffy. That horrid wound where his heart should’ve been hiding stitched back together in a fleshy web of grotesqueness. The color of life painted his cheeks. Excellent.

  Now back to the furious duel behind.

  “Bitch!” Ambiguous abruptly hissed in pain, blinking backward. A deep welt sizzled on her shoulder. Ouch.

  Sienna was deadly silence already on the chase, her footsteps unheard.

  Gabrielle tapped her lip in consideration. Maybe first intervening and tossing Sienna’s corpse overboard would’ve been smarter. Hindsight was omniscient, but it was never too late to take action. She broke Stealth and unchained spiteful fury on the slut, Blood Boil curses pelting those exposed butt cheeks. Luckily, it was over before Rowan, a boy who liked eyeing up scantily-dressed girls, stood back up.

  Gabrielle threw Ambiguous a message for clarification on the situation.

  Gabby LeMort (To Ambiguous Pain): Did he get a chance to see her?

  Ambiguous Pain: No, he was one-shotted from behind.

  Phew. Time to dump the slutty corpse overboard!

  * * *

  Groggy, Rowan rubbed his aching chest and elbowed up to his feet with a low groan in the effort. His outdated level 120 robes had been by repaired by the draught, and at the right, he caught a glance of the girls throwing something down the ship’s side. “What was that?” he breathed, voice husky.

  Gabrielle perked straight and appeared in front of him with a Puff. “Just some trash. I wanted to clean up our new boat!” She spread her arms wide, extra jovial.

  His brow lifted. “Like a corpse? I could’ve raised it and added it to our upcoming conversion with the—”

  “Nah. It was super weak.”

  Ambiguous chuckled, and the tone gave Rowan a sneaking suspicion that the corpse may have been something good. Before he could speak, Gabrielle took his hand in hers and smiled sweetly, kissed him on the cheek. She whispered in his ear, “Don’t trust Ambiguous’ titters when she just let ya die. I wouldn’t of let ya die, Row-row.”

  Rowan supposed that point was true. Gabrielle mattered far, far more to him as well. He shrugged, then checked on his minions. “Right. How’s the battle—”

  There were no ships left apart from the one he stood on, the waves dotted with wreckage and ice, sparsely. Dispersing blood blotched the water with purple and red shades at many places, and a feeding-frenzy of piranhas splashed close by. His Undead swarm was already retreating back to the town, a single Colossus Enforcer among them. Not a single enemy was in sight. He had expected the battle to be as challenging as yesterday’s siege. Hmm. It felt oddly dissatisfying.

  Gabrielle clearly read the look on his face. “Dun’ worry, my zealous Row. We’ve still got loads of time left before we have to hit the hay.”

  That was true. Less than three to five hours in the real world had passed, his perception on time quite muddled thanks to Not Insane’s ultimate. “What time is it now?”

  “You’re both in the same time zone? That will make things difficult,” Ambiguous blurted.

  “Yeah, we—”

  “He’s from a small town half an hour drive away from Capitol City. And it’s just before six.”

  “More or less what I thought,” Rowan said and silently thanked Gabrielle, a nudge to her ribs. He was about to say they were living together like a real dummy, and by the squinting look on Ambiguous’ face, she wasn’t buying it; so Rowan sniffed and donned a serious face. “That means we don’t have long, maybe a day and a half at the most. I need plenty of sleep for my head injury.”

  Ambiguous exhaled at that and nodded in understanding, weirdly sympathetic for a darkie, her eyes soft. “So what’s the plan now?”

  Gabrielle said, “I need more building materials for turrets and my castle. Let’s raid one of their quarries and maybe even the Dwarves’ fortress so I can build a Dark Ocu—”

  “I’ve already thought it through.” Rowan shook his head as she frowned at his interruption. “I’ve already thought it through earlier when I was still in Insane’s pocket dimension and just then while I was dead. We need something which will be able to keep things running and secure in our place when we’re logged out, which means getting Zaine back. He can defend both this place and his lair by himself.”

  “Huh?” Gabrielle’s face twisted in confusion. “I thought I told ya the extremely long list of ingredients his Rebirthing recipe needs.”

  “You did.” During the car ride. “But we’re going to be using another Divine Intervention—”

  Ambiguous coughed. “Do you know how the skill works? We’d need tens of thousands for a request like that, not counting the timespan multiplier. We’d never gather up that many bodies before tomorrow.”

  An oblong pop-up window expanded.

  Skill: Divine Intervention

  A dark adventurer’s last hope. Opens a window to the divine realm, allowing you to make a plea to the dark goddess Ione, who will ask a sufficient sacrifice as payment. If another plea is made within a three-month timespan of the previous summoning, the sacrifices asked will be quintupled (or greater if Ione holds you in low regard).

  Summoning time: 12 hours base

  Summoning ingredients: Magic Powder, Deathly Ent Extract, Sacred Ash

  Though the gesture wasn’t needed, it confirmed what Rowan had read. The light-side players had deciphered and published the main points with only minor inaccuracies mixed in. “Yeah. I read about it on the forums, and I also read about the rampant poverty problems the humans are facing. Maybe we should solve those problems for them.” He smirked—a dark smirk. “If you know what I mean.” There were countless souls in those slums northward of the human capital.

  They caught on in unison. Ambiguous mirrored his smirk. “I do know what you mean, Lord Black.”

  “Hehehehehe.” Gabrielle patted his back. “Good thinking. I forgot about those slums. Let’s go!”

  Rowan softly patted her warm tush, breathed her pineapple scent. “Preparations first, and I think a diversion would also do us good. Brainstorm some ideas.” He looked at Ambiguous. “I also need to pick up new gear from your market box. Just hit level 180.”

  “Then you’re officially what they call a high-level player. The real levels. Experience will come extremely slowly from now on.” She snatched her staff from her back.

  “Yup!” Gabrielle’s hands clasped together. “Lotsa powerful gear starting at one-eighty. Ya should check the markets for—”

  “Already did just then. Nothing but generic stuff available for me.”

  “Hmmm. Kay.”

  Ambiguous’ staff waved. Indigo mana gyrated in a vortex of lines and crosses. Rowan accepted the wormhole into her permanent pocket dimension, the alert not even read.

  Chapter 23

  Corporate Interludes

  The summer sun was late for its scheduled daily meeting with the ocean, Darius Roth mused. Fair enough. Its tardiness only allowed him a fine evening view from this second-floor open office space, reserved for player support staff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Such a luxury was more than welcome during these long overworked days. Waiting for his requested status report, Darius let the fiery horizon warm him very nicely while the chilly air conditioning blew on his back in this cornered-off glass office.

  Blake Jackson, a managing executive who looked and dressed more like an army sergeant, grumbled under his breath and blew raspy air. He flipped to the end of a real-time report on his Holo Computer, then looked up at Darius and spat, “Support tickets are backed up all the way to Lake Superior. We’ll never get through them all. We need help. We need backup—”

  “New hires are already scheduled, going through HR. The new building is op
ening next week. We barely managed to fit it into the budget.”

  "Ah, shit!"

  Was that truly bad news? It was only slightly off schedule. Darius let the man take his time. Obvious signs of deep pent-up stress leaked through that sweaty brow. Darius knew Blake’s type very well: the angry manager storming the offices with excess bravado, appropriate for keeping people in line and on their toes, which was needed here. Low and medium-skilled player support workers were known for slack and incompetence.

  At last, Blake said, “I understand, but the teams are demanding additional overtime bonuses for nights like these. Finance isn’t being cooperative, told me to fuck off.”

  Of course, they hadn’t literally told him that. Darius had known Andrew, one of his best finance executives, for close to a decade. Darius shrugged. "Maybe you should take their advice."

  Blake stood and slightly squinted. "Do we have to get the unions involved?"

  Fiddlesticks.

  How Darius loathed worker unions even more than corporate saboteurs; however, money wasn’t too much of an issue for this venture. Synaptic had an under-the-table unlimited credit line to the major investment banks, the World Reserve Bank by proxy, though they, the ever-plenty low-skilled employees, didn’t need to know that. It’d cause relentless questions and endless raise-begging, more so than right now.

  Raises which couldn’t happen here or anywhere, Darius recalled. The banks were already leveraged beyond sustainability thanks to recent colossal mishaps by Automaton Corporation, a subject discussed during a recent order meeting. Disaster relief was still pouring into Asia. Now wasn’t a good time for generosity. UBI had taken hefty cuts as well.

  Darius straightened his tie, coming out of a considering expression. “I’ll have a word with Andrew. Perhaps we can restructure the marketing and support budget again, but it will be a tight restructure.”

  “A word? My people are working double and weekend shifts every week and all we can do is a tight fucking restructure?"

  "That’s correct." Darius smiled, not a kind smile.

  Blake waved his arm dramatically very much like an army lad. "They’re putting their health on the line! They want to see their families and friends! Their loved ones!"

  This again, and thankfully, the glass walls were frosted and soundproof. Darius pretended to sympathize for a moment, then hardened his face into a glare. “Tell them they can see their loved ones when we’re bankrupt. They’re lucky they have jobs at all in this economy. In fact, many are making a living off the game’s credit marketplace. We’ve been more than generous.”

  Blake wouldn’t relent, his jaw hardening. “We’re not going to go bankrupt! We can be more generous. We’re in the process of a technological revolution, and there’s not a single competitor—”

  Darius pinned Blake with a harsh eye. “Would you like to meet with the banks and our investors? They will gladly explain everything to you, because I certainly do not have the time when I have a technological revolution to manage.”

  "What’s their numbers?"

  "Talk to Finance. I’m not here to discuss credits."

  Blake crossed his arms. “Then why did you come here and ask about our status?”

  “I’m actually here because I want to know what the most common complaints are.”

  “What?! Why would our chief executive need to know—”

  "That’s an order, Mr. Jackson! Report!"

  Spitting out a garbled curse, Blake dropped back into his seat and banged his wooden desk with a strained fist. "Yes, sir!"

  It took monumental restraint for Darius to not laugh as a madman. From where had HR snatched up this character? The army sergeant had to be smoking or injecting something very potent. HR had outdone themselves!

  With three gestures, Blake flipped the holographic report back six pages. He drilled through the list in a powerful voice: “Over eighty percent of the tickets are about yesterday’s events: lost properties at that spire, balance complaints about player World Bosses and dark classes, complaints about the time compression change, the typical stuff. We’re responding to those with the usual pre-written, blanket statement, and—”

  “Send a summary and breakdown of those to Derek.”

  “Lead Game Designer Derek?!”

  Darius nodded.

  "Understood!" Blake saluted and fisted the wood. "We’re getting some more connection issues from the Middle East, already passed those on to Engineering this morning and they haven’t gotten back—”

  “They’re occupied.” With a prototype Mk2 version of the pod that allows for extended immersion. “You’ll have to write up a PR response for that, but from what I know, it’s not our problem anyway. The quantum infrastructure isn’t as developed in those areas.”

  “I’ll let the teams know.” Blake flipped a page. “As for the usual behavioral reports, not much has changed, but scamming and harassment are on the—”

  “I don’t care about that. Discard them as usual.”

  A frown pulled Blake’s forehead into a lumpy surface. “And why the hell are we not taking action?!”

  Darius sighed. It was tiresome to recite this explanation. “We’ve issued plenty of directives to the AI controller for in-game punitive measures. Prison-time, fines, bounties, courts, etcetera. All managed by the faction leaders. People also naturally self-police. This is to maximize player immersion. The whole idea is to make virtual reality as real as reality; an alternate reality." For the upcoming virtual reality world order. Aeon Chronicles was the first of many realities.

  Blake’s nostrils flared. "With all due respect, sir, that is fucking insane!"

  "Your opinion has been noted. Now get back to work. Do I make myself clear?!"

  That sharp nose scrunched. "Yes, sir!"

  "And remember to check your mail more often." Darius left with a parting authoritative glance, then chuckled to himself and strode through the noisy open office lined with rows upon rows of desks for diligent player support employees. Their backs straightened as he passed behind, for they knew they were the expendable corporate masses. Perhaps a tight budgeting restructure was too generous, but Darius wasn’t a cruel leader. Quite the opposite.

  Time to pay Derek another visit.

  * * *

  Darius’ knuckles tapped uninviting cold wood. This east-side office did not receive an inch of evening sun, sadly.

  "Come in!"

  Still working. Very good. Very good indeed. Entering, Darius donned a polite smile and straightened his suit jacket before taking a seat in front of the mighty Derek. The smell of coffee wasn’t overpowering as before, thankfully.

  Derek said without looking up from his Holo Computer, "Just got the reports from the support department. Thanks for that, by the way."

  "The least I can do. Mr. Jackson was too preoccupied with his duties." Most of the managing staff had already called it a day, and Darius prided himself on his own micromanagement skills.

  Derek madly finished typing and minimized the hologram. He sat straighter. "So." He slapped the desk with his palm, not as boisterously as Blake, however. "Problem. Reaction. Conflict. Solution. We’re currently at conflict, and you’re here to discuss capitalizing on it."

  "That is half-correct." An abrupt yawn threatened Darius’ composure. He swallowed it. "Have you made the leak?"

  "On an anonymous board. I took a photo of a written note inside the main lobby to—" He fingered a quoting gesture. "—prove it was by a Synaptic employee. They seem to believe me, but there’s no way to really prove it. Anyone could’ve entered and taken that photo. It’s quickly spreading that Rowan used an exploit to activate an experimental player World Boss directive, not what we’re stating officially."

  A deep breath came to Darius. It wasn’t too late. "Good, but there has been a decision from the inner-circle elders. The planned manhunt for Rowan has been called off. Prepare an official statement. The leak is fake."

  "What? Why?"

  "I don’t have the
whole story," Darius said truthfully, "but from what they told me, which isn’t much, he’s no longer a sacrificial lamb. We’re letting him live when this all wraps up." The email had come thirty minutes earlier, and Darius was still in shock.

  Those thick, bushy brows contorted. "Then what’s the media going to go crazy over? How are we going to blow this up? How will we justify all the invasive controls in the name of security?"

  "We’re not. Those directives won’t be issued." For now, but Darius wasn’t going to let that slip.

  The desk vibrated from a bump underneath. "I thought the whole point was controlling people."