Beta 1.0 Test

by Harley Vex

  I reach the corner, turning to run across. Once that happens, I can make a mad dash to Everworld Hosting, dive in, and let an angel choir sing as I sink to my knees.

  And the Mercedes rushes forward, stopping right over the crosswalk. You shall not pass.

  "What gives?" My mind sharpens. The signal's red. If I head the other way, the Mercedes will have to wait to make a left. Sucks to be them. That'll give me time to come up with Plan B.

  I turn and do a brisk walk towards the restaurant. Hey, I'm in work clothes. That might be good enough for them to let me in.

  The traffic clears and the engine behind me purrs as the jerk makes an illegal turn.

  "Seriously!"

  Panic explodes and I break into a run past a closed bookstore, a closed music store, and a vacuum cleaner shop that's dim and empty inside.

  It's official. They're after me.

  The Mercedes pulls in front of me and parks beside the curb. I stop, seeing my chance to run back and force the vehicle to waste time making a U-turn. But the back door swings open, almost banging into me, and a large, burly man wearing a pure black helmet and an equally dark bodysuit bursts out. He looks like a cop from a nightmare future.

  "What is going on?" I shout, hoping someone hears.

  An arm wraps around my torso and I go down, landing on the sidewalk beside a squashed piece of black gum. The guy's weight collapses on me and then my arm's getting twisted behind my back. I should have called the cops. Trusted my instincts.

  Now my day has managed to get a whole lot worse.

  The dude yanks my other arm behind my back and before I can start yelling and cussing at the top of my lungs, a second guy appears in front of me. He's also in a black bodysuit and helmet. Featureless. And bigger than me.

  He smashes a cloth against my face as the first, built like a linebacker, yanks my skinny self back to the car.

  "Be quiet," the second dude says, holding up a finger. "Come with us or it's all over."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Never let them take you to the second location.

  I heard that once. Once that happens during a kidnapping, your chances of survival drop so much that you might as well plan out your will. I kick at the second dude, but he follows me closely, keeping the cloth smashed to my face so hard that I bring my teeth down on it.

  I expect to pass out from fumes like in the movies, but I just keep biting down as the bigger guy yanks me backward into the car. I slide across leather seats and find myself squashed into the middle seat with two futuristic goons on either side. Awesome. There's a redhead woman in the driver's seat dressed in a regular business suit, and she doesn't speak.

  "Umph!" I squirm a bit more, trying to climb over the second guy to get the door, but the locks all click.

  "There's no point in fighting," the second guy, clearly the speaker of the two, says. "Enjoy the ride." His voice is low and muffled under the black visor of the helmet. I can see nothing beyond it. "And if you get out your phone, I'm afraid we'll have to confiscate it."

  Then he removes the cloth, but I'm still sitting between the two guys. Man, I wish I worked out.

  "Enjoy the ride?" I burst.

  But the second guy laughs as if he's playing some college prank.

  "Sorry. I don't see the humor in this," I say, hoping this is some bizarre prank my roommates are playing on me. Would Steve and Will do this to me? Why? We don't talk to each other much thanks to working different shifts, and I doubt their jobs checking out groceries and working gas pumps would pay for anything this elaborate. "You know, kidnapping is illegal." But I stay still, scanning the inside of the car. I've got to size up my situation, just like I do in Creationist.

  Neither of the guys, nor the woman, say anything. She checks the street, a grin playing at her lips, before gently pulling away from the curb.

  Prank, maybe. Killers don't smile like this and laugh unless they're total psychos, right?

  I gulp, but let out a slow breath and look around. No one stops me. I spot no weapons on those suits the two guys are wearing. Both are one-piece bodysuits with blue stripes running up the sides of the legs, and have black, plastic plates on the chests, arms, and legs. Weird. And that blue scribble on the side of that guy's helmet almost looks like the fiery flag for Salvos Corporation. No, it's dark and I'm seeing things.

  The doors are all locked and the tinted windows won't let anyone see me. And unless I can dial 911 with my phone in my pocket and without looking at it once, I'm not getting out. Every scenario involves me getting hurt or at the very least, getting knocked out.

  I've got to get out.

  My best bet is to stay conscious and talk.

  "Are you debt collectors?" I blurt. Way to go, Mike. Admit that you haven't been able to keep up on those student loan bills. But if that's the case, then they won't kill me. Getting money out of a turnip is hard, but getting cash from a corpse is impossible.

  The cute woman brakes behind a vehicle. Oh, now there are other people around. Then the truck moves and we roll down the street, farther from the call center, and closer to downtown.

  "Mike Wattles," the woman says. She flashes a smile at me through the mirror as we roll through a green light.

  Maybe I'm an idiot but her tone convinces me to unclench my fists and look less intimidating. The first dude lets go so that other than the fact that I'm still sitting between them, I'm free.

  "You didn't answer my question," I say. "Who are you?" Maybe that's easier for them to understand.

  The two guys say nothing. I sense they're letting the silence drag out.

  "Am I going to survive tonight?" I ask.

  "Depends," the woman says. She's still got that upbeat, but slightly evil tone. If my life weren't on the line, she'd be cute, but those green eyes make her look anything but.

  "What do you mean, depends?" I lean forward in my seat, waiting for the guys to seize my arms, but they don't. I force down another breath of cool air. I've still got my phone. There's a chance they're joking. But the second guy is right. I've got no chance to call for help no matter what.

  The woman doesn't miss a beat. "You'll see what we mean. Sit back and enjoy the drive."

  "Seriously?"

  The big guy taps my shoulder. I almost slug him but hold back because that would end in me flattened on the leather seat. Then I plunge my hand into my pocket. No one does anything. Maybe I can tap that part of my screen that says emergency and it'll call someone automatically. The cops can use GPS to find me. My kidnappers don't have to know until police lights are whirling behind us. I tap my phone, again and again, but if the woman is concerned, she's not showing it.

  She turns left down another, narrow street. We pass an upscale apartment complex with tinted glass windows and then slow near an ominous garage door that's connected to the complex. As the Mercedes approaches, the garage door lifts, revealing orange sodium lights.

  "Look, I'm not in any gangs and I'm not involved in anything you think I am." My mouth fires off as we turn into the garage. No, it's a tunnel that slopes downward and seems to lead into one.

  "Are you sure about that?" The woman looks back at me as she eases the car into the tunnel. We roll downward.

  So this is how it ends.

  I grip the seat as the two guys beside me tense. We drive down...down...and then a heavy weight seems to crush my lungs. Natalie will never know what happened to me. Neither will my parents. And the worst part is, I don't even understand why.

  At last, we circle around the ramp and pull into an underground garage that must be under the fancy apartment. A few other Mercedes are parked here. My survival instincts haven't died yet and I'm still breathing, so I scan the area. No one's waiting with baseball bats and guns. I doors that read To Elevator on the other side of the concrete room, but nothing else.

  "Where am I?" I can try that. Stall them while I figure out how to run.

  No one answers me. I can't take it anymore. "Where am I? You're making me late to work
and I really have to get going."

  The woman parks between two cars, as if she's trying to make sure there's a wall between me and sprinting to freedom, and speaks. "You're not going to need that job anymore, Mike Wattles." She turns the car off.

  "So this is it," I say. "You're going to shoot me here. Look, I don't have a life insurance policy so unless you guys have taken one out on me—"

  "This guy doesn't get it," the big dude says. It's the first time he's spoken.

  "Well, Don, we don't exactly send out invites," the redhead says. "It doesn't work that way. It can't work that way."

  "What is going on?" I ask, letting my voice rise.

  "Well," the driver says, "Excuse our manners. If you get out of the car and behave, we'll show you. But unless you cooperate, I'm afraid we can't let you leave."

  I'm at the second location.

  Translation: I'm doomed.

  The big guy, Don, opens the door and to my shock, stands there with the door open. He motions politely for me to get out. The other guy remains where he is, blocking my way back. I hesitate, but still no one gathers around the car to meet us. "I get to leave if I cooperate," I repeat. It's a question.

  The woman steps out of the car, closing the door behind her.

  "Don't tell me I have to push him," the second guy says.

  "Unnecessary. We can stand here and wait," Don says with a shrug.

  "Look, you tackled me before and now you're going to wait there like a bellhop?" I ask.

  The woman laughs. "The correct term is 'valet.' And we have you where we want you now."

  A bubble of anger rises in me. I've probably got five minutes before I'm due to start my shift and these people are making jokes. I'm thinking about my shift right now? Maybe they're even going to kill me. "One more time. Why am I here?"

  The three look at each other as a long pause drags out. "Can't you see this?" Don points to the side of his helmet. He talks almost like he's sorry.

  In the brighter light of the parking garage, I can see that the blue scribbles are, in fact, the Salvos Corporation logo. It's the flaming flag with fiery bars and a campfire in the upper left corner. Heck, it even says Salvos Corporation under the flag.

  "Most people kind of get what's happening pretty quickly," the other guy says. "And they appreciate the little prank. But sorry, we don't film this. Candi will let you know a million times that we can't." He motions to the woman.

  I sit there, stunned, and let my jaw slowly fall open. The woman—Candi—bites her lip. "Please don't tell me that you thought we were going to kill you."

  This is a prank?

  Or some other kind of setup?

  Maybe I'm not about to die?

  My mind tries to put together the pieces. "You followed me since I left my apartment, you know. And then Don here tackled me while you—"

  "Matt," the second guy offers.

  "—put a cloth to my face and shoved me into the back of a car with tinted windows. Then you told me I might not survive tonight and finally, you told me that I wouldn't need my job anymore." I want to believe that maybe I won some sort of Salvos Corporation top secret lottery and they're going to award me some new game system, but not quite everything lines up for that.

  "Most gamers we pick up enjoy the thrill once they figure out Salvos is picking them up," Don says.

  "Sort of," Matt says. "We're not quite Salvos." He goes to remove his helmet.

  "Not yet," Candi orders, holding up a hand to him.

  "Well, we scared the crap out of this guy," Matt protests.

  "He hasn't signed any agreement yet," Candi says. "We have to be careful."

  "Agreement?" I ask, scooting closer to the edge of the seat.

  "Mike, a smart guy like you should be able to find the different meanings in what we said," Candi tells me, offering a wry smile. "You're so good at finding other angles to things that I thought you'd figure it out on your own. By the way, congratulations on your performance at Monster Crag Castle. We expected no less out of you."

  Her words make me fly out of the back of the car. All of my fear vanishes and the world takes on a surreal orange light. I'm facing Candi, who is almost as tall as me. She's about my age with brilliant green eyes, perfect skin, and a great body that her suit hugs in all the right places. Then I shake my head.

  CandiofSummer has subscribed to your channel!

  "What do you mean? If you watched my livestream...you did watch my livestream. And then you unsubscribed."

  "I needed to see your first person view and I couldn't have ads blocking the stream, so yes, I subscribed for a bit. So did Anthony Anton. I found your channel weeks ago, Mike, and I convinced the CEO to watch your performance tonight, too. Because of the way you played, we would like to extend an offer you can't refuse."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "H...huh?" Anthony Anton, the head of Salvos Corporation, subscribed to me?

  And what was that other username who subscribed and then left? AASalvosCorp. That checks out. Holy...if what she is telling me is true...holy...crap. "The CEO of Salvos watched me?" My voice rises in horror.

  Candi just nods as I stand there on the concrete and close the Mercedes door. "I got the text that we could pick you up and extend our special offer."

  "But I screwed up," I blurt.

  "You did not," Candi says, turning away, inviting me to follow. Already, Don and Matt do so, leaving me standing there for a bit. Then she stops and looks back at me. "We planted that Sunlight Bomb, the Hardwood Stakes, and several other valuable weapons in the wrong hands so that Monster Crag Castle would favor those players taking the obvious routes to the tower this week. We could not have you reach the tower first, Mike, although you almost accomplished that. We were worried for a moment when you were about to make that impromptu Vampire grinder, because that would have led you to victory against all odds."

  My ears ring. What am I even feeling right now?

  "You set up my failure?" I follow, because I have no other choice at this point.

  Offer. Salvos Corporation. How did they—

  "It was necessary. You'll thank us later," Candi says quickly. She opens the door to the elevator, revealing a stairway and the red-painted doors to the elevator itself.

  I squeeze into the small room. "Vox let you screw with his map?"

  Candi busies herself pressing the elevator buttons. She presses the one labeled B, probably for basement. "Vox is working with Salvos Corporation right now. Something big is about to happen."

  All thoughts of dying abandon me. I check my phone and no one stops me. I'm already ten minutes late for work. Whether I'll keep my job depends on my boss's presence.

  But maybe Candi is right and I won't need it.

  A tingle sweeps over me. What if this is my break?

  "How did you find me?" I ask.

  "Nothing online is truly private." She turns to face me directly as the elevator hums behind the doors. "Salvos has a database of all of Creationist's user accounts which include addresses and other billing information. It was no problem finding you. I think you'll be very useful. We need a player like you. And Mike, I can't believe your Mummy grinder didn't get many views. GameTube is not what it used to be."

  I had spent much of that episode talking about how worried I was about Natalie's illness, so I figured I had driven people away with doom and gloom. But I can tell Candi's not lying.

  "You didn't have to kidnap me if you just wanted to get some feedback about Vox's map. Ever heard of surveys?"

  "No one takes surveys." She waves us into the elevator. Don and Matt get in first, and I can't resist.

  "Okay. Fair enough," I say, getting in as well.

  "I'm glad you're going to hear us out. You are in need, Mike."

  "Are you going to offer me a job?" The words float out of my mouth as we stand, with my back to the elevator door. She's got me hooked. My theory about some kind of new gaming system makes sense because Matt and Don are decked out in gear I've never seen.r />
  "Maybe, in a sense." Candi's tone drops a tiny bit. "More like an opportunity."

  My heart thumps. Just an opportunity? That can mean a lot of things that don't include a paycheck. My unpaid internships were an opportunity. But I don't want to get on anyone's bad side quite yet even if Candi is cute. So I go to another question. "But why did you have to make me lose my tournament tonight?" If these people screwed me up on purpose, and they're just going to offer me an unpaid gig doing something, I'm going to be furious.

  The elevator dings once, and the doors open, and I back out just enough to stop them from closing again. Behind me, bright lights shine and I catch a hint of a blue glow, but before I get too far into this, I need answers. TheWattleman is not stupid.

  "Why couldn't I be allowed to win Capture the Flag?" I keep my voice neutral, shocking myself.

  Candi steps forward, ready to exit. "Because if you had won, you would have focused all your attention on Creationist.

  "Well, not all of it. I would have kept my job because my sister is about to lose hers. Long story. I was planning to do both my job and streaming. I'm not crazy." As much as I'd love to give up that call center for gaming full time, I know it's not realistic. Dad's let me know a million times that the job has to come first, and my experience rolling a boulder uphill on GameTube crushed any dreams of him being wrong.

  Candi nods, indicating she's heard it. Yes. The Mummy grinder video. I talked all about it. "Makes sense. But you had to lose tonight."

  I place both my hands on the sides of the elevator, making sure no one can get out. Reality sucks. I can't be fooled. "Why, though?"

  "Because Creationist is dying. People just don't know it yet," Candi says.

  Don nods in agreement and Matt just stands there.

  "It's the most popular game in the world," I say. "People can do anything there, build anything there."