by David Petrie
That must be a faunus, Seven assumed, looking at the woman’s features, not having seen a member of the race before. It wasn’t too popular from what she’d read, due to a highly specialized racial trait of some kind. Seven let her mind wander back to the character race options she’d ignored when creating hers. Lost in thought, she almost forgot she was staring at the woman. She immediately averted her gaze, accidentally locking eyes with Amelia herself. The predatory woman grinned before breaking the connection.
Seven gulped audibly.
Fortunately, a new arrival distracted the Lady of the Winter Moon’s attention away from Seven’s fearful response. Unfortunately, this also elicited an even more embarrassing response from her as she choked on a piece of bread and coughed crumbs into her hand. Seven struggled to compose herself before the newcomer noticed her.
Too late.
Alastair Coldblood stood at the center of the room, looking straight at her. The head of Checkpoint Systems, one of the most influential people in the world, was looking her dead in the face. His avatar, dressed like some kind of glam-rock vampire in a long coat, had a dark presence that seemed to dim the lights in the room. He arched an eyebrow at her, only to turn away to speak to a severe-looking elf standing behind him like an assistant.
“What is someone like him even doing here?” Seven whispered to herself.
“Probably just wants some contracts,” a voice suddenly came from beside her.
“Gah!” She jumped to the side, finding a cloaked woman standing next to her. A pair of tall fox ears poked through the top of her hood. They twitched in an excitable manner. The upper half of her face was covered with a simple mask, a black diamond pattern around one eye like a court jester.
“Sorry.” The fox-woman threw her hands behind her and bounced on one foot. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just didn’t realize you were talking to yourself there.”
“Ah, yes.” Seven scratched at the back of her head. “I was surprised to be in a room with the head of Checkpoint Systems. It wasn’t something I expected to happen tonight,” She admitted politely while internally screaming, Who are you? Go away. Go away!
The reynard woman did not go away.
“It’s not that surprising. Contracts make Noctem go ‘round, so of course Checkpoint would want in on that action. If only to keep their world running smoothly.”
“Couldn’t they just create as many contracts as they want?” Seven asked, accepting that she was having company whether she wanted it or not.
“Not how contract items work.” The strange woman shook her head. “Power can’t just be created at will. This is Noctem; there is a price for everything. Be it money, effort, or souls.”
“That’s awfully dramatic.”
“Clearly you haven’t been in Noctem for long.”
“Is it that obvious?” Seven gestured at the starter robe she wore, expecting to be called a noob any second.
“It’s okay, we all were new once.” The reynard leaned closer and nudged Seven with an elbow. “I’d say you’re doing pretty well for a level one, considering you’re standing at the center of one of the most important events to happen in a while.” Her comment only reinforced the feeling that Seven didn’t belong there.
“To be honest, I’m in way over my head.” Seven attempted to joke, inadvertently telling the truth.
“Aren’t we all?” The reynard’s ears twitched.
“True…” Seven trailed off as a new arrival entered the room, this time unrecognizable to her. He was tall, with glasses and blue hair tied back with a red ribbon. He wore a long cloak made of black fabric, that glistened with a sheen like oil in water. A few of the auction’s guards followed him, dragging in several large chests, one after another. Seven tilted her head to the side.
“That’s Larkin.” The reynard in the mask leaned closer to whisper. “He’s a crafter, from what I understand. Didn’t think he had an excess of money for an event like this though.”
“Maybe he’s intending on trading whatever’s in those trunks,” Seven guessed. Before she had a chance to think any more on the subject, another two groups entered the theater.
One group was led by a deru man with bluish skin and emerald crystals poking out from his hair. He wore robes similar to Seven’s, though he stood taller, commanding respect. On his face he wore a subtle frown, as if the rest of the event was beneath him. An elf and a human followed him close. Their eyes scanned the room, their hands on their weapons, as if a threat could be anywhere.
The next group complemented the other, a trio of reynards skulking into the theater, possibly the threats that the previous group was worried about. The one in the lead wore a gun at his hip and walked as if he owned the place, his tail wagging excitedly.
“The deru there is Lord Promethium of House Forge. I forget his companions.” Seven’s masked friend pointed a finger in his direction. “He’s the new ruler of Sierra.” She turned to face Seven and hooked a thumb back at the three reynards. “Those sketchy guys are from House Saint, Lord Murph and his brothers. He runs the city of Thrift. Don’t let their looks fool you, they’re a bunch of kittens. Kittens… well, kittens that sometimes murder people for hard.”
Seven committed the names to memory.
“Speaking of who’s who…” The masked woman’s tail swished back and forth. “I take it you’re from the Silver Tongues, right?”
Seven flinched at having her house guessed so easily. “How did you–”
“The bird.” She pointed to the chair where the overgrown avian perched. “That’s Ruby, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I take it you’re one of Leftwich’s assistants?”
“Number Seven. It’s weird to go by a number, but apparently that’s my name now.”
“Eh, there’s worse names out there.”
Seven nodded just as the curtain at the back of the theater opened again to reveal a beautiful woman. A wave of dread swept through Seven’s body at the sight of her. Even to someone out of touch with the virtual world, her name had become legend.
GingerSnaps, Lady of House Lockheart.
No!
Seven felt her hopes of an easy job crumble as the woman strutted into the theater. Her gray frock coat billowed behind her with green silk lining the inside. A flag bearing the crest of Noctem’s most infamous house hung from one shoulder to cover her sleeveless arm.
The woman radiated confidence and desire. Details about her had flooded the news, even in the real world. And why wouldn’t they? Her house had pulled off the theft of millions in virtual currency, all within a loophole that kept them out of jail. Checkpoint Systems had been forced to pay out the money in order to obey the rules of the game.
The real-world identities of Lockheart’s members were a mystery, but it had become well known that Ginger had worked at a brothel in Lucem up until last year. The media seemed to dwell on that fact of her background, reporting that she’d entertained thousands of clients over her time there. She had also been banned from nearly every shop in Lucem for stealing everything from consumable items to explosives. How a woman with that kind of past had become the leader of one of the most powerful houses in the virtual world was incredible.
Fear gripped Seven’s chest as two more of House Lockheart’s members entered the room. They were even scarier in person.
Close to Ginger’s side, was MaxDamage24.
Also known as the Pale Rider.
His murderous aura was immense. A scarf of black fabric wrapped his shoulders with a pattern of bones decorating its surface. His chest was covered by dark leather armor and a weathered gray shirt, while a pair of lethal-looking guns hung from a double shoulder holster. A small knife glinted, sheathed on his belt next to his ammunition pouches. His eyes were just as cold as the video Seven had seen him in. He was fear incarnate. Even Noctem had titled him so, labeling him as the virtual world’s Reaper.
A tall woman followed, Lockheart’s First Knight.
Farnsworth, the Death Grip.
The clawed gauntlet for which she was known covered her left hand. It was a contract capable of draining the life from another player in a slow and brutal death. Though, in the video where she’d killed Tusker, she’d taken him down in a heartbeat rather than dragging it out. The gauntlet had been bound to her when she’d killed the previous Death Grip, making it one of the most unique contract items in the game, as it was passed on from victim to killer.
Farnsworth stopped for a moment to glance back at the entrance, her black, curly hair swept to one side as she stood in profile. A cluster of freckles spread across the dark skin of her cheek. Her armor would have made her seem dashing, what with the cape and fur collar, but the coloring gave her a dark presence. A matte black breastplate covered her chest and a sad smile adorned her face as she looked back.
A diminutive woman in a hooded cloak pranced into the theater to take a place at the woman’s side. Her face wasn’t visible other than brief glimpses of pale skin, but Seven knew exactly who she was.
Kirabell, Lockheart’s Archmage.
Seven didn’t know what she looked like under the cloak, but her size made her instantly recognizable. The media loved talking about her as much as they did Ginger.
In sharp contrast to the people she played with, Kirabell was harmless, only being capable of healing. Many had done the math, and from what most could tell, she was the highest level fairy in Noctem. Possibly even the most powerful healer. She’d never made news for any such accomplishments prior to Lockheart’s heist. According to reports from those that had met her, she was just a cheerful girl that supported others, usually with a sarcastic remark.
The little mage peeked around the room before drifting toward the buffet. Farnsworth blocked her path as if keeping her from wandering off. The Shield stepped in front, hiding the fairy from Seven’s view and blotting out the only source of light that Lockheart seemed to contain.
Seven took a few heavy breaths, not sure what she should do. The auction had just become the last place she wanted to be.
“Damn.” The strange reynard beside her gave a word to how Seven was feeling, while tugging on her own hood to hide her face a bit more. She let out a chuckle, sounding like she was amused. “Looks like the auction just got a lot more interesting.”
“I hope I don’t have to interact with them.” Seven turned back to her new friend. “I just want to get this night over with.”
“Don’t worry, they’re not as bad as their reputation makes them out to be. And hey, I’ll be right here with you. Well, more like hiding behind you.” The reynard gave Seven a warm smile.
“And who are you?” Seven asked, realizing how suspicious it was that the woman hadn’t introduced herself. “What house are you from?”
“Sorry, no house for me.” The woman let out an awkward laugh. “I’m a ronin.”
“Then how did you get an invitation?”
“I’m, ah, not what you would call invited. Just, sort of snuck in.” Her ears fell like a scolded dog.
“What?” Seven’s throat went dry as she motioned to back away.
The woman waved both her hands in front of her while her furry ears twitched back and forth. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt anyone. And I have money to bid. I’m just not important enough to get an invite, that’s all. Haven’t made a name for myself. But the way I see it, every contract I get is one that can’t be used against me, so here I am.” She slapped her hands together in a begging gesture. “Please don’t tell on me. If I don’t make a scene, the twins running this thing might let me stay.”
Seven let out the breath she was holding. “It’s none of my business.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The reynard held out one hand in an offer of friendship. “I’m Nix.”
Panic alarms rang through Seven’s mind as the name left the strange woman’s lips. “Oh no, you’re–”
“Nix!” a voice roared through the theater, as if on cue.
The reynard cringed at the sound of her own name. “That didn’t last long.”
Seven spun to see who was shouting, then immediately wished she hadn’t as MaxDamage24 raised his pistols and fired in her direction. She screamed as bullets slammed into the stage behind her, sending splinters of wood showering down around her.
Seven waited for the dull pain she’d read about that came along with the game’s damage. There was nothing she could do.
It was over already.
She had one job, and she had failed.
Chapter Five
“Nix!”
Max’s mind went blank as he reached for a gun.
She was right there.
After months of searching and preparing, she was right fucking there.
Nix ducked behind some random woman, a low-level Venom from the look of it. What someone like that was doing at the auction, he had no idea.
No matter, it was her fault for being there.
Blind rage squeezed the trigger as every reasonable braincell in Max’s head screamed at him to stop. Killing Nix wouldn’t solve anything. Not in a virtual world.
His pistol locked back empty as the sound of a lone scream echoed through the room. All eyes fell on the low-level woman standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. She shut her eyes tight while her panicked cry trailed off into an awkward silence. Finally, she cracked one eye open, her body frozen in a wince as if expecting death.
“What the…?” She glanced down at herself, clearly shocked to be alive.
With rage coursing through Max’s body, it had taken everything he had to hold back. The wall around the woman hadn’t fared as well, taking the brunt of his anger and leaving a bullet riddled outline around the woman’s body.
“Get out from behind her!” Max growled, his chest heaving with one uncontrolled breath after another.
“Alright, alright, jeez.” Nix’s voice came from behind the low-level woman who was still frozen in fear. A pair of furry ears poked out followed by the rest of the evil woman. She wore a mask, just like the one worn by the men that had abducted Kira’s body. She pulled it off. “I guess there’s no point in hiding my–”
Max drew his other pistol and shot her in the shoulder. “Give her back!”
“Ow…” Nix lurched back, twisting with the impact of the bullet, her shoulder glowing crimson as she placed a hand over the hit. “Little help?”
Suddenly, from one of the box seats above, a familiar horned Coin dropped into the conflict. Aawil, the strong, silent faunus, coiled a hand through Ginger’s hair and pulled her head back before placing a dagger to her throat.
“Go ahead,” Ginger spouted in defiance, “like it matters.”
“Now, now, don’t be like that.” Nix threw her hands up as if she meant no harm. “No one needs to be sent back to spawn.”
Farnsworth stepped closer to Echo, the avatar claiming food from the buffet while everyone’s attention was on Max.
“Don’t you move!” He stepped closer to Nix, holstering his empty gun and clutching the silver dagger he’d received from the fight with the Deep.
“Really?” Nix rolled her eyes. “What can you really do to me here?”
Max tightened his grip on the contract. She was right. God damn it, she was right. Her being right there before him meant nothing. He still had no idea how to find her in the real world and with her ability to overpower the system, there wasn’t much he could do to her anyway. Her being there now didn’t change the plan. They still had to trap her. They still needed to prepare.
“Hey! Hey!” Dalliance ran down the aisle.
“What is the meaning of this?” Grindstone raced into the theater behind him.
Alastair stepped into the middle of the conflict. “You seem to have an uninvited guest. MaxDamage here was just assisting with security.” He gave Max a pointed glance and motioned for him to lower his gun.
Max ignored him, keeping it trained on Nix.
Alastair approached him a
nd placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering so the rest of the room couldn’t hear. “I know how you feel. But we have to be smart about this. She’s too dangerous to take chances with.”
“Who are you?” Grindstone stomped over to Nix. “And how did you get in here?”
“I, ah.” Nix swiped a hand in front of her face and cleared her throat at Aawil, who was still holding a dagger to Ginger’s throat. The faunus released her hair and sheathed the weapon. Nix took a breath as if she was nervous before speaking again.
“I’m sorry, but when I heard about the Auction of Souls, I had to check it out.” She gave a low bow to Grindstone. “I apologize for sneaking in, but I have money and I can give you my account information to confirm it. I ask that you allow me to stay and take part in the bidding.”
“Absolutely not.” Dalliance stomped one foot. “This is a high-class event for Noctem’s top houses, we can’t let just anyone in–”
“What’s your account information?” Grindstone stepped in front of his twin, making it clear he valued money over status.
“Let her stay.” Max’s eye twitched as he forced himself to lower his gun.
Alastair gave him a nod. “Yes, I’m sure Nix has the funds to make for a lively auction. No sense throwing her out.”
“But…” Dalliance glanced back and forth between Grindstone and the bullet holes in the wall.
Grindstone handed Nix his book and a pen so she could give him her financial information. She handed it back afterward and the room went silent for a moment as Grindstone stared at the page. Finally, his eye’s widened and he looked up at her.
“Ah, well, this will do. This will do nicely.”
“Thank you.” Nix’s ears perked up like an excited cat with a mouse to play with.
Max clenched his jaw so tight it hurt. His knuckles turned white as he clutched the knife on his belt.
“Fine.” Dalliance clapped his hands. “But we will have no more of…” He waved his hand around between Max and Nix “…this.”
“Yes.” Grindstone snapped his book shut. “I think it will be best if we separate our guests until the auction is ready to begin. You can all use the box seats above to wait, at least that will remove the temptation to fight amongst one another. With so many of Noctem’s top houses present, I know how tempting it may be to take advantage of any opening that presents itself.” He gestured to a pair of doorways set on either side of the theater. “Those will lead up to the boxes, please refrain from any hostile activities on the way up. We can reconvene down here on the main floor at the top of the hour.”
