by Oliver Mayes
Damien sat bolt upright and stared at Lillian, mouth ajar.
“Did everyone see—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry. We didn’t see anything. I don’t know for certain how it works, but my best guess is it triggers traumatic memories. It blinds and deafens you but we saw and heard everything as normal. I only knew what you’d seen because I was there for both of them. It couldn’t have been anything else.”
She slurped down some of her noodles, giving Damien the opportunity to correct her if she was wrong. He didn’t say anything, but he started drinking his miso. A good sign. Lillian pressed her advantage.
“I understand why you’re pretending everything is fine. I avoid telling people about my past. It changes the way they look at me. The way they treat me. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it with me. You handled it better than I did, that’s for sure! I enjoyed watching you beat the crap out of Archimonde.”
“You’d have done the same. I was lucky he used Shedim while I was right on top of him.”
True enough. Andrew had just come out of the internet cafe and was heading straight for them. Time to go. Lillian clapped Damien on the back as she stood up and gathered her things.
“I’m glad I came, thanks for having me along. Do me a favor. Go home and have a rest. Give your mom a hug, make that bad dream disappear for one of us. Next time we hang out let’s do something other than Saga for a change, how’s your karaoke?”
She’d sandwiched the heaviest part of her message between softer niceties, but it made for pretty poor camouflage. It wasn’t designed not to be noticed so much as not to be replied to. Damien took the hint.
“Yeah, karaoke would be great.”
She gave him a hug, which he returned with feeling, when Andrew scooched in next to Damien. He stuck out his hand.
“Well done. That wasn’t an easy fight.”
Damien took his hand and they shook. Not like before, when they had done it for the benefit of onlookers and it had been overenthusiastic and showy, but slowly and deliberately.
“Thanks. And thanks again for looking after Lillian.”
“It’s a two-way street. Speaking of which, I’m under orders to take her to work and it’s been a difficult day for both of us. Let’s have a proper meeting next time.”
“Sounds good.”
Damien followed them out and the three of them gave each other nods and small waves, each preoccupied with their own thoughts, before Damien went in the opposite direction. It was only when Lillian settled into the automated metal box of total lack of control that her train of thought completely fell to pieces. Andrew stuck his hand out for her to take, his eyes set straight ahead of him.
Lillian hesitated for a few moments, but took it pretty quickly when the car started moving. The mild irritation was a good secondary distraction, which Andrew was keen to capitalize on.
“Didn’t think you’d take it, after you clung to the handrail all the way here.”
“It reassures me that if someone pushes a pram out in front of us, at least you’ll die with me. If it happens while I’m holding your hand, I’ll have a crack at breaking your fingers before we hit the pavement.”
“What an honor. So glad I’m still useful.”
Nope, visualizing the worst-case scenario was, surprisingly, not calming Lillian down. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to think about something else. It was only when they reached the elevator to the underground highway about ten minutes later that she could open her eyes again. She quickly released Andrew’s hand and dropped it into his lap before looking out the window at the lights blurring by.
They were moving at maximum speed, but the ride was smooth and the path was clear. Lillian didn’t have any problem with automated vehicles, in and of themselves. It was when automated cars had to make sudden choices stemming from the actions of a stupid human that things got dicey. Since the tunnel could only be accessed by automated cars, this was the fastest yet safest part of the trip.
She turned back to Andrew while she could still think. His answer would determine whether or not her campaign had been a success.
“What will you do now?”
“Go home and eat my noodles.”
“I mean after that.”
“Go back online, double-check the wall’s secure, put some posts on the Rising Tide page.”
“No, Andrew. I mean after that. What’s next?”
“Oh, you mean long term? Well, once you’ve got Camelot under control I’ll be resigning as your Court Wizard.”
Goddammit.
“Why? We’ve just fixed—”
They emerged from the tunnel and shot out into the unpredictable world again. Lillian stopped talking and stared at her feet. Why was it that most of the car had to be see-through? She’d rather not have a clear visual of her impending doom. Andrew stuck his hand back out and she grasped it, then squeezed. Her grip wasn’t nearly as strong here as it was in Saga, but it was more than enough to convey her sentiment. She had a lot more to say, but this was one of the few places on earth that rendered Lillian silent.
The car stopped in front of Jefferson Hospital and the doors swung open. Lillian opened her eyes as Andrew let go of her hand and climbed out. He didn’t have to, there was plenty of space for Lillian to get by. He was just doing it because it was the right thing to do, or so she thought. As soon as she stepped out, the doors closed and the car rolled away. She turned to him, puzzled.
“Wait, how are you getting home?”
“Tram service around here somewhere. I’ll find it. Goodnight, Lillian. Thanks for everything.”
Lillian stepped after him and tapped him on the shoulder. He was practically running away from her.
“You think I’ll let what you said slide? We just fixed everything! What the hell are you talking about?”
“We didn’t fix it, not really. What I did to you is completely unforgivable, and I deserved everything—”
Lillian thought they were past this.
“You did it to me! I decide if it’s unforgivable! Not you!”
“No, Lillian, that’s not true. You can forgive me all day long, but if I don’t forgive myself it doesn’t mean anything. I’m an adult, remember? I’m responsible for my own choices, I don’t get to blame Richard for doing things I shouldn’t have. Your words. Not mine.”
“That was about playing Saga instead of studying for the tests, this is different.”
“It applies just as much. I ruined the best thing I had going for me. I don’t intend to linger on it, which is pretty hard to do while I’m your underling. I’ll resign as Court Wizard and hand off Rising Tide as soon as you’ve established control.”
Lillian folded her arms. She could feel herself becoming unreasonable, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop herself. Andrew had started it.
“Thanks for making this easy. I don’t accept your resignation.”
“And I don’t accept your lack of acceptance of my resignation. Sorry, Lillian, but I need to move on with my life. You said so yourself, that I’m too clever to live off your back, that it would destroy me – except it turns out I’m not, and it didn’t. I don’t need saving. I’m glad we’ve made amends and I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
“Goodbye, Lillian. You’re not perfect, but you’re pretty damn close and a lot better than I deserved.”
He took a few steps back and stared at her, taking her in. He gave her his very best fake smile, so good Lillian wasn’t sure if she’d classified it correctly. Then Andrew turned on his heel and walked away without turning back.
Andrew had shown his value by walking away. She couldn’t believe it. She remained frozen in the street until long after he’d passed out of sight, waiting for him to look back. He never did.
They’d arrived at her work ahead of schedule. Her shift would begin in thirty minutes. She’d be working until 1am. If the necessary arrangem
ents were to be made, she had to begin immediately.
She marched into Jefferson Hospital, pulling her headset out of her satchel as she went. She went straight to the nearest broom closet.
Lillian scrolled through her missed voice chats, arriving at the one she’d received not long after she’d taken Excalibur. It hadn’t seemed like the right time for the call back then, with Magnitude still posing a threat. Now was the right time. She dialed back, not entirely sure she’d receive any response at all. The call was picked up after two rings.
“Congratulations on your acquisition of Excalibur, Lillian Meridian. And your victory earlier this evening. I was wondering when I might expect your call.”
“Hello, Mr. Adler. Thank you. We need to talk.”
It was 5:30pm the next day by the time Damien had finished cataloguing his journey in a single highlights stream. It was comprehensive: the attempt to join forces with Empire players to run a dungeon, ending in their deaths. His jaunt through the Frozen Forest, including his encounter with Aetherius. His and Lillian’s first failed attempt to get past the wall, completed by his two “interactions” with Magnitude and Archimonde. The successful second run through the wall with unlikely allies and the second appearance from ‘Archie baby’. The slog through the Inner Circle to the Dark Tower and the diversion to get past Archimonde. His prolonged, purgatorial dealings with Cave Urchins, Mordred and Toutatis. The preparations with his occultists. The war. And the final battle with Archimonde.
Busy week. The only part he’d edited heavily was Lillian’s episode fighting Archimonde. It had been a lot simpler than he’d expected: just a quick blur to a half second he’d glanced at the ground, a little blur effect as he was looking back up to remove a few seconds from when he was Charging in, some overlaid sound effects to replace Lillian’s screaming and hey presto. Reality had been altered.
The conversation with Lucifer didn’t come into question, since Lucifer had cut all the recording of it. There’d been a lot of personal stuff, so Damien wouldn’t have shared it anyway, but he did regret not having it available. He had no proof of what had happened, nor did he have any way of explaining how he’d become Pride. He’d said it was a private cutscene, that anyone who wanted to understand would have to go through it themselves although he didn’t recommend it, and had left it at that.
He logged back into Saga, arriving in the temporary base Bartholomew had loaned him for the weekend. He’d put it to good use. Noigel had been receiving his promised reward for coming up on eight hours. Four succubi and a single imp had been attached to the Soul Well along with him. Damien had only been joking about adding the last imp, but Noigel had insisted.
The extra imp was sitting in the corner, playing patty-cake with the wall. It seemed more bored than envious of its superior, but Noigel was too preoccupied to notice. In addition to feasting on succubus fur being fed into his mouth like grapes, his head was too heavy to lift up and look across the room. His horns were now larger than he was. Each of them. So long as they reverted to their original size when Noigel was done, as had always happened before, Damien wasn’t too fussed.
Damien rolled the stone blocking his base away and then rolled it back again after he and his personal posse emerged. He’d rather not have any sudden jarring noises in the background while he spoke to Kevin. No occultist trials today, everyone was avoiding death timers in order to enjoy the festivities in Camelot.
When Kevin didn’t pick up the first time round, Damien called again. He wanted to give Kevin a chance, so he was relieved when his call was answered almost immediately on the third attempt. If Kevin was upset about being contacted on one of his days off, he didn’t show it.
“Damien! How’s it going?”
“It’s going well! Did you catch what happened yesterday?”
“Did I! I caught the whole thing. You played remarkably well.”
“Thanks. In particular, did you catch the end of my fight with Archimonde?”
“Yeah, you really gave it to him, huh? Maybe a little over the top there, at the end, but that’s what the combat sequence was designed—”
“I meant the part just before that. Do you remember the bit where Archimonde used ‘Shedim’ on me?”
“I did, didn’t see it do anything though. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t enough to stop you! I was really worried you were getting in over your head with these characters, but you sure proved me—”
“Kevin. Shedim is the ability I asked you to raise alarms about. I sent you video footage of what it did to Lillian earlier this week and told you to get it checked. Urgently.”
There was a pause. When Kevin came back, all the panic was gone. He was in full-on professional mode. Colder. Not what Damien was looking for. Not what he’d expected, either.
“Damien. I do apologize, but the issue you voiced was not within my purview. I’m your PR manager now. As a former beta-tester, you know a single case study observed in another individual rather than personally experienced does not justify the diversion of time and resources—”
That was Damien’s limit. As much as he didn’t want to keep interrupting Kevin, it would’ve helped if Kevin had opted to meet him halfway by actually listening to him. Damien kept his tone as civil and amenable as he could, though he felt like yelling down the line. He contented himself with talking over Kevin until he relented, about three seconds in.
“I can tell you exactly what ‘Shedim’ does now, since I was targeted by it. It triggers traumatic memories. For me, it picked out when my mom was having a heart attack. It played the worst part of it, in my head, on a three-second loop. It was worse for Lillian, from what I hear.”
Kevin scoffed over the line.
“Th—that’s impossible! The skills are all carefully vetted, none of them have that effe—”
Warmer. Still in denial, though. And in so doing, he was calling Damien a liar.
“Oh they do, and there’s worse on the way. How many case studies do you need? Because I know at least fifteen occultists who hit level 40 yesterday, some of whom are minors. They’ll give you plenty more case studies. Is this a path you feel Mobius Enterprises wishes to explore in depth?”
“Of course not! When you said it was urgent, I thought you meant a minor glitch, not any—”
Warmer. Still not the words Damien was looking for.
“I said it was urgent. A week ago. I showed you Lillian’s reaction. What part of that looked like a minor glitch?”
“I thought it was an isolated case, it looks like I should’ve called it in, but like I said, I’ve been so busy, that’s why—”
Hot. Still all those unnecessary ‘buts’, though. Come on, Kevin, you can do it. Just one last push.
“Kevin. Next time I say something’s urgent, will you take me seriously? It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with headset technical issues, is it? My mom isn’t the only one who ended up in a hospital that week. I know what ‘urgent’ means.”
“N-no, it’s not. I mean, of course you do. I’m sorry.”
Well done, Kevin. For a moment there, I thought we weren’t going to make it.
“It’s fine. I’m just concerned, because I’d like to make a stable career out of this. I can’t do that if our headsets keep turning everyone’s brains inside out. Oh, and while we’re on the subject: do feel free to send me a message before you doctor my gaming footage and put it up on the official channel in future. You may be my PR guy, but it’s very much my channel. I don’t need you deciding my direction without my input. Let’s work a little more closely. Copacetic?”
A final pause before Kevin came the rest of the way over to Damien’s side.
“Loud and clear.”
“Thank you, Kevin. I’ll call tomorrow to ask what progress you’ve made on the ‘Shedim’ problem. Have a good night.”
Damien hung up. He’d been so naive to think he could rely on other people, in game or out. He was starting to get the hang of dealing with them, though. Of course, he’d alre
ady issued strict instructions on the Council of Nine page not to take their level 40 trait until further notice. There was an ability patch in the works. No loose ends.
He’d cemented his position as a Saga streamer, had claimed the Embodiment of Pride and had helped Lillian – one of the only players who’d been open-minded enough to cooperate with him from the beginning – into a position of power. With occultists no longer ‘Enemies of the Realm’, Magnitude and Archimonde out of the picture and this final impending potential PR hazard dealt with, his long-term livestreaming career prospects looked pretty rosy.
“That’s a very evil look, Damien. I haven’t seen an expression on your face quite like that since your skirmish with Godhammer and Rising Tide.”
Even now, Bartholomew still knew how to push his luck but Damien was in far too good a mood to care about being snuck up on.
“I’m filling the shoes you had Lucifer fit me for, Bart. We have to play the hand we’re dealt. You dealt me a good hand. I intend to play it.”
“I’m glad you finally appreciate what I did for you. Although it does come with some additional responsibilities. Lucifer requires your attendance. You left rather suddenly following your victory yesterday and there are matters he wishes—”
“I have something else to do tonight. I’ve been invited to a party and it’s important I show my face. Lucifer shall have to wait.”
“He won’t like that. I was instructed to send you as soon as you returned, and he’s superior to both of us. Tell him yourself.”
“I’m not attending Lucifer to tell him I’m not attending him. My not showing up will speak for itself. I’ll be back to remove Noigel and the base before midnight and our agreement will be at an end, as promised.”
“Not quite. You’ll still owe your side of the bargain, which is as yet undetermined.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, you earned it. I’m heading out. Have a good night, Bart.”
He sent an imp up to the entrance of the Downward Spiral, the rest of his minions either flying up after it or running around the traps. Bartholomew tutted at him just before he left.
