With his professional smile in place, Archbishop Green laughed. "That is perfectly alright, Martha. Primacy Online is only a game, not reality. If Primacy Online were not a game, that description for the Quantum Control Program would be more than just a little sacrilegious, but since it is a game, there is nothing wrong with equating the QCP to a god. Inside the game, it really is like a god. Its power rules over everything with an iron fist."
Archbishop Green glanced from Martha to Moe and back to Martha. "Do either of you play Primacy Online V ?"
Moe shook his head. "I can't remember ever playing any games. My family was very strict in its upbringing. I went to school, did homework, and went to Bible Study. Once I became an adult, I never had any interest in playing games."
Martha smiled. "I played a few VRMMOs when I was a teenager, but I never found them interesting."
Archbishop Green frowned and sadly shook his head. "It is such a shame. You both missed out on the chance to do God's work. Primacy Online is not simply a game. It is the means by which we avoid the destruction of war being visited upon the Earth. To fight in the name of your city-state in the game world means doing your patriotic duty and serving God's purpose at the same time."
After listening to her programming director for a moment, an ingenious look entered Martha's eyes. "Archbishop, I heard a rumor that all the perma-banned account holders would be draftees for World War IX. Is there anything you can tell us about that?"
Archbishop Green's smile disappeared, and a brutal glint appeared in his eyes. "Where did you hear that, Martha?"
Her face blank, Martha swallowed dryly. "It was just a rumor. I don't remember where I heard it."
"You're words could be construed as apostasy."
"Apostasy?"
Archbishop Green revealed a cold smile that matched the look in his eyes. "That is information that has not been released outside certain circles of the Church Hierarchy."
Martha darted a look in the direction of the programming director. "I didn't know. Really."
Archbishop Green shook his head sadly. "When is the last time you received absolution, Martha."
"Um…" Martha's eyes darted around desperately, looking for anyone to help her, but no one in her line of sight met her eyes.
Archbishop Green sighed dramatically. "I have an opening in my schedule on Wednesday from 13:00 to 22:00. Come to the St. George's Cathedral at 13:00 sharp, and I will personally hear your confession."
Archbishop Green rose to his feet. "This interview is over."
"Go to a commercial break, now!"
After the studio door closed behind Archbishop Green, Martha surged angrily to her feet and ran over to the programming director. "Michael, what the fuck was with that question! Where did you get that information! A nine-hour confession! That Archbishop is a sadistic monster! I'll be in the hospital for months!"
Michael, the programming director, patted Martha's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Martha. I had no idea that was such sensitive information. I was distracted dealing with problems that arose from firing Penny."
Crack!
"You bastard!" After slapping Michael on the face, Martha ran out of the production studio.
"Someone tell Kelly that I said to get in here and fill in for Martha."
While occupying themselves with make-work, the production crew pretended not to see the viciously satisfied expression on Michael's face.
Earth: Yukon City
May 12, 1337 AA
After Hello, Yukon City went to a commercial break, Morgan Danan turned off the holodisplay on her pocket assistant and handed it to one of her bodyguards. She had been watching the morning news show for the past few weeks, ever since their interview with Archbishop Green, but there had no further interesting events.
With her bodyguards constantly scanning for any sign of potential trouble, Morgan stood on a street in Yukon City. The area was a mix of restored high-end mixed-use buildings and low-income businesses with tenements above them. Their location was right outside a capsule center.
Capsule centers rented out the use of quantum interface capsules, but the hourly rental fees in these types of businesses were extremely high to cover the purchase costs and maintenance of the capsules. However, even in this type of location, a capsule center could turn an extremely large profit, and if run properly, it was possible to make considerably more than in a more uniformly affluent location.
Even though the black tinted windows gave the capsule center a somewhat dingy appearance, there was a shiny, dark blue sign with gold lettering over the doors.
Mi-Chin Capsule Heaven
Looking at the sign, Morgan had a faintly disdainful frown on her lips, and as she stepped toward the doors, her bodyguards opened them for her. Without acknowledging their actions, she imperiously strode to the service counter and looked around dismissively.
"Welcome to Mi-Chin Capsule Heaven. How may I help you?" The relatively attractive brunette girl behind the counter was not able to conceal her own discontent and distaste for the three people in front of her.
"Bring me to Patrick Armagh!" Morgan's husky, soft-spoken words carried the clear intent of an Imperial Command.
With a confused expression, the counter attendant looked at Morgan. "Um, we don't have anyone here named Patrick whatever."
"Do not lie to me."
As Morgan's cold eyes focused on her, the counter attendant could not repress a shiver of fear and took a step back from the counter. Without being able to understand why, the counter attendant was terrified of the woman confronting her. "Ma'am, I'm not lying. There really is no Patrick anything working here."
As she stared coldly at the counter attendant, Morgan's eyes revealed nothing but raw contempt for the girl. "Patrick Armagh repairs your quantum interface capsules."
The counter attendant's eyes opened wide, and she gaped at Morgan. "You're looking for Fat Pig?"
For a moment, Morgan's cold eyes revealed a hint of anger, and she gave off the oppressive aura of a lethal killer. After a moment, the coldness returned, and once again, she seemed to be a normal, if coldly imperious, human. "You dare to call that man Fat Pig?"
"The boss calls him that. He never objects. We don't know his real name." The counter attendant was terrified and barely managed to keep from cowering.
"Take me to him. Now."
"I have to call the boss. I'm not allowed in the maintenance rooms." As she reached for the handset of a video-phone, the counter attendant's hand trembled uncontrollably, and she fumbled dialing the extension three times in a row.
"Ms. Song. There's a woman here asking for Patrick something or other. She says that it should--"
The counter attendant abruptly stopped talking and listened to an angry voice on the other end of the phone, and even though the person on the other end could not see her over the dead video connection, she repeatedly nodded her head.
"Yes, Ma'am." Even though the person on the other end had already hung up, the counter attendant voiced her acknowledgment to the dead connection.
The counter attendant looked at Morgan with a fearful gaze. "Ma'am, Ms. Song said that she'll be with you in a few minutes."
Seeing Morgan's frown become more pronounced, the counter attendant shivered and pressed her back against the other counter behind her.
A couple minutes later, a woman of Asian ancestry stormed out of a door marked "PRIVATE" and headed for a set of stairs leading to the basement. Seeing the woman head away from the reception counter, the counter attendant's suddenly relieved expression again turned fearful.
Noting the changes in the counter attendant, Morgan headed for the same set of stairs.
"Hey, you can't--"
With the slightly smaller of the two bodyguards staring at her, the counter attendant looked ready to run. "Never mind! Do whatever you want!"
Without any change in his expression or demeanor, the bodyguard followed after his employer.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Morgan
found herself in a dimly lit hallway that ran the depth of the building.
"Fat Pig, why in God's Name is Morgan Danan looking for you?"
The near screaming voice was easily audible from the base of the stairs, and Morgan followed it to an open door. Looking inside the room, she saw the Asian woman, with her hands on her hips, glaring at Patrick Armagh, who had fought under the name Wild Boar.
"What's your problem Mi-Cha? I'm trying to replace a quantum broadcaster."
"To Hell with your work. I have Morgan Danan in my capsule center, and she's looking for you."
Patrick Armagh grimaced. "How did that crazy bitch know where to find me?"
"Crazy bitch? She's the ruler of a city-state and the top gamer in the world. How dare you talk about a woman like her that way!"
"I didn't ask her to come here. Fuck it. Tell her I'm not here, and you never heard of me."
"I'm not your damned receptionist. Go up and tell her yourself and don't cause any problems for me while you're at it."
"Your arm is bleeding."
Both Patrick and Mi-Cha turned to stare at the woman in the doorway, but their reactions were completely different. Mi-Cha's face shone with admiration. Patrick looked annoyed.
"Why are you stalking me, Raven?"
Mi-Cha spun toward Patrick and viciously punched him in the arm, but he did not even flinch. His tired-seeming stare remained fixed on Morgan.
Morgan had difficulty keeping the annoyance off her face. "You are bleeding rather profusely."
Patrick shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I can't feel it. I'm perma-banned. What do you want from me?"
Morgan revealed a faint smile. "Your draft notice will come today. If you wanted to, you could log into Primacy Online V , right now."
Mi-Cha's glare locked onto Morgan. Her eyes were full of suspicion and distrust, but there was no sign of surprise. To Morgan, the only one paying attention to her, it was obvious that Mi-Cha already knew Patrick was being drafted.
Morgan smiled at Mi-Cha, but the expression was not a friendly one. "Leave us alone. You can tell your masters in the Church that I have made contact with Crom Cruach."
Mi-Cha was unable to keep the surprise and shock off her face. She looked Patrick in the eyes. "I'm not a Church spy. She's lying."
Except for a bone-deep weariness, Patrick's face was dead and empty. "I knew from the beginning. As soon as you tracked me down with the job offer, it was obvious you were someone's tool."
Mi-Cha's surprise was replaced with confusion. "Why? You hate God. If you knew about me and the Church, why would you work for me? I don't understand."
Patrick sighed. "I needed a job to eat, and I don't hate your God. I just don't give a fuck about him. I don't know if he exists or not, and I don't care. Since I already knew you were the Church's tool, it made it easier to control what they learned about me."
Mi-Cha's expression twisted and turned ugly from anger and hate. "You heretical bastard! If I didn't have orders, I would never have had anything to do with you ever again!"
Patrick smiled. "I know who my father was. Kelly is the bastard in the family. You'll need better insults."
"You're nothing but an arrogant Fat Pig!" Mi-Cha stormed out of the room.
After moving aside to let Mi-Cha pass, Morgan looked at Patrick again. "She is not a very good spy. She is far too emotional."
"What do you want, Raven?"
Morgan smiled warmly at Patrick. "Give me a medical kit, and I will bandage your arm."
Patrick did not move. "I don't care about my arm. I can't feel anything anymore, anyway. What do you want?"
"Fight with me, again. This World War will be different, and the stakes are higher than you can imagine."
Patrick frowned. "You're serious about my perma-ban being lifted."
"I would not lie about something like this. You will receive your draft notice today. World War IX will begin in twelve days. The server connections will go live at midnight tomorrow for the draftee and volunteer head start."
A hint of interest in Patrick's eyes was submerged by confusion. "What do you mean by volunteers?"
Morgan's smile faded. "There are always volunteers in a World War. Sometimes they take the place of a draftee, and other times they just want the thrill of playing in War Mode. They want to fight with their lives on the line to feel alive."
As Patrick suppressed the flash of guilt that surfaced in his eyes, Morgan smiled at him, again. "I want you to fight beside me once more. If you do not fight with me, the Church will force you to join their special force of cheaters. They will use the lives of your mother and sister as bargaining chips to enforce compliance on you."
Unfocused anger turned Patrick's doughboy face into a fierce mask. "I'll kill them."
"You will be locked in a cryo-capsule."
Patrick's enraged eyes focused on Morgan. "What's your deal?"
Morgan smiled. "I will bring your mother and sister to the City of Mann. Your sister's intelligence and aptitude with engineering provide a valid, if unusual, reason for the First University of Mann to recruit her and provide a full scholarship and living expenses for them both."
The rage in Patrick's eyes never wavered, and his sharp stare seemed as though it would bore holes into Morgan. "Can I trust you?"
"Have I ever lied to you?"
"You've never told me the entire truth about anything."
"Have I ever broken my word to you?"
Long minutes passed while Patrick stared into Morgan's pale grey eyes. "I'll fight with you."
The last vestiges of the icy mask of the Immortal Ice Queen completely shattered, and an expression like a breaking dawn transformed her face.
Her bodyguards that were standing watch outside the room glanced in and froze. Even though they had both served her in the real world and inside Primacy Online for centuries, neither of them had ever seen her reveal such innocent joy.
Moving further into the room Morgan looked around. "Where is your medical kit?"
Patrick pointed to a cluttered desk in one corner of the room, and Morgan organized the contents in her search for the medical kit. Hard copy technical manuals and plastic flimsies with data printouts were all neatly stacked, revealing a battered medical kit.
With the medical kit in hand, Morgan turned around and frowned. "Why are you smirking at me?"
Patrick shook his head. "You're obsessive-compulsive."
Morgan did not hide her irritation. "I am not obsessive-compulsive. There is a place for everything, and everything in its place. You are still the most obnoxious man I have ever met."
"Like I said, obsessive-compulsive."
"If you want your cut bandaged, shut up and sit down." Morgan's voice took on the crisp tone of a ruler that expected instant obedience.
"I don't need it bandaged."
Morgan pointed at Patrick's feet. "You are already standing in a puddle of your own blood. Are you trying to commit suicide to avoid fighting beside me?"
Bending his arm, Patrick inspected the nearly six-inch long gash in his outer forearm. "I didn't sever any blood vessels, but I suppose, you might as well take care of it."
Patrick sat on a handmade, heavy metal stool that still groaned under his weight, and while she threaded a needle from the medical kit, Morgan frowned. "How did you manage to jump high enough to grab the crossbar on that fence without tearing your muscles?"
Patrick laughed. "I'm sure I tore something. I just can't feel it. My arms, my legs, and my dick might as well be made out of wood for all the feeling I have in them."
"How long do you have?"
"Less than five years. I'm early Stage V."
"Being in a cryo-capsule will halt the progression of the Thompson's Syndrome."
"Only until I come out. Every time I used cryogenic suspension, when I came out, it was like the Thompson's went into overdrive."
Morgan's kept her eyes averted, so that Patrick would not see the bleak emptiness in them. "How long were you fluffing
arena sheathes with Thompson's?"
Patrick sighed. "Six years. I needed the money."
While Morgan stitched and bandaged the cut, neither of them spoke. Despite the wariness, there was a sense of familiarity between the two.
While Morgan was rearranging the supplies in the medical kit, a man in the uniform of the Yukon City Civil Penal Code Enforcement Bureau walked through the door. Despite his being an officer of one of the most powerful City Bureaus, the cold stares of the bodyguards gave him a chill in the pit of his stomach.
"Patrick Armagh, step forward!" The officer's disdainful command was an attempt to cover his fear and make himself feel powerful. Like nearly all Civil Penal Code Enforcement Officers, he was a cowardly man that took pleasure in using the might of the Civil Penal Code Enforcement Bureau to bully others.
Patrick rose to his feet. "Is that my draft notice, dickbag?"
The raw contempt in Patrick's voice angered the officer, but the sight of a fully two-meter tall mountain of fat with an attitude left him more unnerved than angered.
"Give it here!" Patrick held out a hand the size of a baseball mitt.
After dropping the draft notice into Patrick's hand, the officer fled the room as fast as his arrogance would allow.
Patrick grinned. "One last chance to live."
Earth: Yukon City
May 13, 1337 AA
At 23:20, Patrick Armagh arrived near a scramjet with the coat of arms of the City of Mann on its tail. For a time, he stared at the airplane without approaching. He was a loner by nature, and his relationship with Raven Goddess was complicated. They had been both allies and enemies at various times.
At 23:30, Patrick grimaced and approached the boarding ramp. The two guards at the base of the ramp had been aware of him since he arrived, and the guard on the right lowered his head in a gesture of acknowledgment.
"Mr. Armagh, the Speaker is waiting for you. Please, board the aircraft."
Without replying to the guard, Patrick ascended the boarding ramp, and the hatch to the airplane opened before he reached the top. Inside the open hatch, one of the bodyguards that had been accompanying Morgan Danan the preceding day gestured for him to enter.
"Good evening, Crom Cruach. You were standing outside for such a long time, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts." Morgan Danan's faint smile did not reach her eyes, and her eyes revealed nothing of what thoughts might have been going through her mind.
The Cheater's Return Page 3
