The Mechanical Heart: (Book Five) (Sci-Fi LitRPG Series) (The Feedback Loop 5)

by Harmon Cooper

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. After Her Imperial High and Mightyness did that boot to the head thing on everyone, she gave Veenure a hell of a slanging, and Veenure almost drew down on her. I just figured that Empress was just doing her uppity queen bitch thing to impress the proles.”

  “Maybe you should start there, ask her about Veenure and Luther.”

  “Probably not gonna happen. She’s still cheesed off at us for taking Giant King Whatzizname’s better deal, and we’ve already banged heads with her white knights just last night. They were strong too, handed us our asses.”

  “Shit, I forgot about the whole better deal thing. We need to find out more about Veenure, so I’m thinking … ”

  “Three birds with one blacksmith?”

  He shoots me a wolfish grin that reminds me of Aiden. “You and the ladies will be going back to Baltimore later today, tonight actually. Before then, I think it’s about time you pay a little visit to Chrono.”

  “I know just who to bring.”

  “I’ll join the Dream Team in Ultima Thule tomorrow. Frances can be in-game as she is the most experienced with monitoring bodies rather than avatars. We need someone on deck that can keep a close eye on your vitals, and I’m not saying that Rocket can’t, just saying that Frances is really good at this. Besides, the kid is itching to see some action.”

  “And Sophia?”

  “She’s taking the afternoon off. Let her have it. She was closer to Zedic than she’s letting on.”

  “Damn, you got this figured out, don’t you?”

  He shrugs. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks. As long as we all just do what we do best, we’ll likely do better than we’re doing now. I’ll hop in as your in-game while Frances deals with Rocket.”

  Chapter Eight

  Much to my annoyance, the shampoo bottle synced with my iNet feed as soon as I stepped inside the shower. Good for me? Now I know all there is to know about PH levels; why fenugreek seeds beat flaxseed nine times out of ten when it comes to luster and thickness; how using David Beckham’s Pro-V Keratin Hair Volumizer will improve my ability to speak confidently to the opposite sex and how it will significantly improve my odds of wifing my own Posh Spice.

  Maybe the shampoo could help me with Frances. It doesn’t take a team of ensmartened rocket scientist monkeys to figure out that she isn’t exactly doing handsprings and cartwheels over the fact Dolly is back.

  At least Euphoria got me some new duds.

  I’m still dripping from the shower as I use my swordstick to cut open her latest EBAYmazon drone delivery. She has me outfitted for Texas in a Wrangler pearl snap shirt and a pair of skinny dark jeans that make my gnads feel like they’re packed in a ring box. The only thing missing in the package are a pair of saltwater croc Tony Llama boots and a big-ass Buc-ee’s belt buckle. Not that my get-up matters; the only place I’m going over the next few hours is a quaint little town in Hyperborea known as Kayi.

  ~*~

  I awake on the other side of time with murderous intent.

  Sophia’s newly made door is open to the courtyard; the digital flies have let themselves in and are staging their own airshow – seriously. I’m just about to shut it when I catch sight of Dolly sitting outside, on her knees. She watches as the Brits use the time-honored Benny Hill, Red Green, and Three Stooges construction techniques to go about building their clubhouse, although ‘clubhouse’ doesn’t do justice to the backyard-sized castle with drawbridge. There is something inherently jury-rigged and jerry-built about it, and I personally wouldn’t lean on the parapet to wave my private parts at your Auntie for two Grails and a shrubbery.

  “Where’s the moat you started?” I ask.

  Scotty dumps a chamber pot out of one of the windows. His vintage nightsoil adds to an already impressive compost heap of heroic dimensions, which explains the influx of motorized freckles buzzing about.

  ‘We patched it up. We’ll get to the moat later, once we’ve finished the dungeon,” he calls to me.

  “And the plumbing?”

  “We’ll get to the plumbing later, once we’ve finished the moat. For now, this is the loo!” He shakes the thunder mug at me.

  “Well, don’t show Meirda.”

  Too late. Stinkerbell blasts out of the dookie pile like a feculent Jill-in-the-box propelled from Satan’s nether cheeks and does a series of Mary Lou Retton-esque double fulls and triple tucks. With a pink, sparkly, magical Phoof, she’s suddenly as clean, bright and shiny as the bucket o’ Krugerrands at the end of the rainbow.

  “Find anything interesting?” I ask her.

  “I found a Boris Johnson action figure, and I just left it in there.” She Moonwalks and then executes a reverse gainer back into the pixelated pile o’ poo.

  “You ready?”

  I spin around to find Aiden. “What did I say about sneaking up on me like that?”

  “Where are you going?” Dolly asks.

  Refrain from making eye contact. I’d rather not see that flash of recognition fade into confusion again.

  Luckily, Aiden is quick on the draw.

  He drops his hand on my shoulder and we appear on the shores of Kiya. A few NPC fishermen in candy-cane salakots stand still along the shores. At their feet are raffia bins, making me yearn for the time I last cast a line in at The Pier. Sure, the waters were mostly filled with three-eyed Blinkys, but that didn’t stop me from having a damn good time and getting nice and boozed up in the process.

  “Any word from the RW?” he asks as we make our way into the town.

  “Zedic is dead and we need to get Strata’s kid’s avatar. There are three components to our current mission: see if Chrono is a Reaper and log him out if he is. If he isn’t, we need him onboard as a metallurgist. Either way, we get info on Veenure.”

  A teenage dame approaches us. I ready my hand behind my back, even though this won’t give us much tactical advantage. She can’t be older than fifteen, an NPC, with braided hair and a maiden’s dress that extends to her ankles.

  “I’ve lost my marbles.” she starts to sob, her eyes doey and glistening with tears. “Please, kind sirs, will you help me find my marbles? Will you accept this quest?”

  A golden button materializes in front of me asking if we accept the quest.

  I look to Aiden – What would Loop Quantum do?

  “Listen, toots.”

  Reconsider. The image of Picasso comes to me. The kid helped me log out of The Loop, even if it involved his crazy uncle. Dolly controlled the NPCs in The Loop, you do the math. Maybe Goldilocks here is some kind of test. “Alrighty,” I say, changing my tune before the song starts, “how long will this take?”

  Aiden steps out of and back into reality and dangles a bag of marbles in front of the girl.

  “Are these your marbles?” he asks, out of breath.

  “Yes! Thank you, kind sir! You found them!” She curtsies, takes the bag from him and exits stage right.

  A trumpet sounds – we’ve just received some EXP and a bit of gold for helping her. “Well, that works too,” I comment as Aiden takes the lead.

  “It wasn’t her though,” he calls over his shoulder. “Different world.”

  ~*~

  We wind our way through the town, to the back alley that leads to Chrono’s blacksmith shop. It’s a nice little town, and I get a feeling the pub would be a great place to unwind after a long day of fishing. Maybe another time.

  A few goats ‘m-a-a-ah’ at us from across the dirt road, and I look around for Sally.

  “Who’s a good goat?” I ask as I reach my hand out for billy with the good hair. He snorts and flicks my hand away with his head. “Not so friendly … ”

  Doc: That’s because you’re doing it wrong.

  Me: You in?

  Doc: No, Captain Obvious. This is really the voices in your head. I’ll brief you on goat etiquette later. Let’s get this production on the boulevard.

  Chrono’s shop is up ahead, evident from the sound of pounding
on metal. I scroll through my inventory list and stop at item 90, my authentic Deathly Hallows Invisibility Cloak.

  “Really?” Aiden asks as I wrap the cloak around my shoulders. I may not be as cute as Daniel Radcliffe used to be, but I’m definitely taller. As soon as the cloak wraps around my shoulders, my lower half vanishes. “I’ve always considered you a talking head.”

  “I like to think of myself as more of the psycho killer … ”

  “Have you ever actually used it?”

  “To be honest, I rarely get to take this out,” I tell him. I show him my best pirouette and he shrugs. Morning Assassin ain’t real big on the non-murder, madness and mayhem related warm fuzzies. “But I did use it once, during what I like to call my experimental phase.”

  Aiden laughs. “You mean your Riotous fiend phase?”

  “Again, my experimental phase. Anyway, do you remember Two-faced Tommy? Gumshoe by day and drug kingpin by night?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “So he always had a big birthday blowout in Devil’s Alley. Cabbage changing hands like trading cards, a Peruvian amount of Riotous, damn good choons and bodacious dames that were out of this world. Well, with this much sin, you need a little muscle to keep things kosher. Don’t want the wrong people getting out of line, don’t want the right people doing something that could leave them sleeping with the fishes come morning. So one night, I’m worked up – again, my experimental phase – and I’m desperate to get in because, to be honest, Two-faced Tommy had been throwing the same party for ever, and I was starting to regard the party as a rite of passage to my nightly reset.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d crashed the party a dozen different ways before. I’d come in disguised as the waitstaff; rappelled in Seal Team Six style and distinguished life Seal Team Six style; hidden inside his oversized birthday cake with plastic explosives; let’s see, what else?”

  “I get the picture.”

  Doc: I bet I could tell you the ending of this story before you get to it. Remember – show, don’t tell. Have I taught you nothing? Just kidding. What happens next?

  One of the goats looks up at me, snorts, and dribbles goaty buckshot out of its back end, squats and pees.

  I turn back to Aiden. “So I acquired the cloak from the projects over on Mildred Pierce. How’d I get in there? I accidentally offed this mom’s abusive boyfriend and she invited me up. I don’t remember what happened next, but I woke up in my room with the Invisibility Cloak in my inventory list.”

  “What’s this have to do with Two-faced Tommy and his birthday bash?”

  Doc: Yeah, get on with it.

  “I’m getting there,” I tell them both. “So I was telling you about the muscle at his party. Well, I put the Invisibility Cloak on and strut right in there like I own the place. In fact, for the first time since I started crashing the party, I actually make my way into the VIP area of the VIP area. Yes, two VIP areas, one within the other.”

  “Not bad.”

  “I see the head kahuna himself sitting with two broads on his lap and a pound of you-know-what on a glass table. He’s running his gums about the purity of this particular pound, the potency, the rareness. I move around to the front of the glass table – don’t want to get any blood on the Riotous – and equip my Maula pistol, item 240, loaded with needles tipped with meta-cyanide in one hand, and my sawed-off shotty, item 21, in the other. I hit Two-faced Tommy with the needle, finish the broads off with the shotty and steal the hop. Chaos commences, but by that time, I’ve already stuck it under my cloak and Slytherined out of there, if you get my Griff.”

  “God, I hate puns. Do you still have the stuff?”

  “Sure do, and you should be well acquainted with it, my pound of Walter White, item 306.”

  Aiden snorts. “That’s some story, but how’s it going to help us with Chrono?”

  I bring him in close and take a quick looksee over my shoulder. “Here’s how we’ll do it.”

  ~*~

  I never pictured Aiden as a hooterized hottie, but you know what? With a little NPC magic he looks as fairytale female fine as a pneumatic knock-off DisNike princess in his Rose Red disguise.

  “Where’s Hansel?” I tease him from under the Invisibility Cloak.

  “Having brunch at your mom’s, wise guy,” he says in the daintiest of dainty voices.

  He enters Chrono’s establishment and curtsies at the big man in the Manticore necklace. Chrono, all Hellboy forearms and glistening sweat on his brow, gives Aiden a soft grin. He’s got a crazed, Moses-after-forty-days beard going on and it’s hard to make out his lips. “How may I assist you, young Miss?” he asks as he sets his hammer behind the counter.

  Of course, by this time, I’m already standing behind him with my Golden Goosinator hack pointed at the center of his back and ready to blast. Sure, I can’t technically get the drop on him, but if a battle does commence, we’ll have advantage.

  “I have an issue with my helmet,” Aiden says. My Reaper skull, item 551, appears in his hand. “I know it isn’t world specific, but do you have any mods for this?”

  Chrono chews on his lip for a moment as he examines the mask. Finally, he asks, “Where did you get this?”

  ‘I am Reaper number … um … 5309,” Aiden says. “I was in Cyber Noir hunting Quantum Hughes, almost got him too. You may know him by the name of Steamboy_889.”

  Chrono nods. “Aye, I know of both men, Steamboy and the legendary Quantum Hughes. Steamboy is funny and all and does have some skill, but he’s no Quantum Hughes. He’s too damn wild and too uneducated about the game to be the man who founded the Dream Team.”

  Doc: This is great.

  Me: At least he said I was legendary, I’ll give him that.

  “They’re the same person,” Aiden tells him, “trust me.”

  “Trust you? Are you telling me that Steamboy, the shoot-first-and-ask-no-questions guy who consistently brings a gun to a knife fight is indeed Quantum Hughes, the man who stayed alive and sane through two subjective years of entrapment in a faulty Proxima World?” He snorts. “Surely you jest.”

  Aiden bares his teeth. “Cyber Noir is not faulty, I never jest, and don’t call me Shirley!”

  “And what did you mean when you said you were hunting him?”

  “Actively pursuing him; seeking him out; following him; endeavoring to ascertain his whereabouts; striving to fix his location – you know, hunting.” Aiden places the mask on the counter. “Quantum Hughes is Steamboy_889, and I’m hunting them both because they’re the same person. So I’m hunting him, because they’re the same.”

  Me: Jeez, Aiden, get your story straight!

  Doc: Sez the teller of convoluted tales.

  “An enemy of Steamboy is no friend of mine.” Chrono lifts his blacksmith hammers and the trumpet sounds.

  ~*~

  “Hands where I can see ‘em!”

  The cloak comes off and the Reaper Hack spreads up my arm. It turns gold as soon as it solidifies, the end of the blaster humming as it prepares to discharge. I’ll get the first attack, and Chrono will get his location logged and a visit from Granny Weatherwax every times he tries to log in.

  Me: Doc, the message!

  *****WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!*****

  YOUR PLAYER ID has been logged and recorded. YOU are interfering with an on-going FEDERAL CORPORATE INVESTIGATION conducted by Dream Recovery Extraction and Management Team member ID # 0002. You are ordered to cease and desist your interference forthwith, or you may be liable for arrest, prosecution, fines not to exceed $150,000, imprisonment for up to FIVE YEARS, and PERMANENT iNet disenfranchisement.

  *****WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!*****

  “Steamboy?” he asks with his back to me. “What’s this all about? And who’re you?” he asks she-Aiden. “Wait a minute, is that a Dream Team message?”

  Aiden peels off his female form like Buffalo Bill’s girlsuit. He’s back to full medieval ninja warrior glory with a mask over his face, Foot
Clan-inspired kusari armor, and a pair of high top tabi boots with black Adidas stripes on the sides.

  “Aiden?” Chrono lifts his hand and forfeits the battle. His hammers disappear. “Please tell me what’s going on here.”

  I step around the big guy, partner up next to Aiden. “Veenure is a Reaper and she killed Zedic earlier today.”

  “She killed him? Impossible.”

  “Remember those skull-faced scumbags we beat in the tournament?”

  “How could I forget? That’s how I got my cat gloves.” The gloves in question appear and disappear on his fists, kawaii as ever.

  “Tell us everything you know about Veenure,” Aiden says, “and make it snappy. Just because you forfeited the battle, doesn’t mean we can’t start it up again.”

  “Easy, guys,” he says as a stool appears under his tookus. He sits and it makes us about the same height. “All I know about Veenure is that her real name is Victoria.”

  Doc: Get her full name.

  “Victoria what?” I ask.

  “I’m telling you guys, that’s all I know, honest.”

  Me: What do you need from him to run a background check?

  Doc: Just need him to ping his life chip for us. With his chip tag, we can run it back to when it was installed. Just have him sign the Personal Information Release.

  I equip Neville Chamberlain’s famous peace of paper, item 410 and relay Doc’s requirements.

  “What do you need all this for?”

  “Well, the cat is out of the bag, now isn’t it? You know who we are, which means you know that I work for the Dream Team. For us to communicate any further, we need to run a background check on you. Do you consent?”

  “Sure.” A goose quill pen appears in his hand. “I’m not trying to get banned from Tritania or anything.”

  “We don’t … ”

  Doc: STOP! Don’t finish that sentence; it’s better if he thinks we can have him banned. It’s also better for him to think we have jurisdiction over non-US nationals. I didn’t think the DT warning message would work, but there you go.