Dominus

by Terina Adams

  “When do we do it again?”

  His lips twitched into a smile. “Soon.”

  “Yes, I know I said one game, but we haven’t played yet. It’s kind of neat being involved in the game like that and not just hitting a button on the mouse. And I’m curious. It’s complex.”

  So simple an explanation, belying the truth of my interest. One game and I was drawn into this intricate matrix. I walked a line thin as silk into a web of fiction woven tight with aspects of reality. If I played this game long enough, would I be left struggling to understand where the game finished and my world began? Like Jax?

  Then what would I become?

  He came toward me, hand outstretched. I stared at the tattoo on his inner wrist, a nonsensical design that looked like a cage, or a three-dimensional box, his enslavement, or so he’d said. My eyes wandered over the black marks swirling like snakes entwined on his forearm. Without a logical pattern, it was ugly but filled with meaning. A guide when all is lost, he’d said. Without thought, my eyes flicked to the mark of Aris behind his ear.

  “Why did you tattoo the mark of Aris behind your ear?”

  “You must never forget who you are.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could.”

  “You do and you’ll fail. You’ll be lost. Faction is family. It is who you are, your strength.”

  Why did he always come out with weird cryptic words? He was the one lost, lost in his own game. “Just as long as you don’t expect me to get one of those.”

  He reinforced his offer of a handshake. This time I took it, my hand engulfed by the warm grip of his. Instead of shaking it, he held my hand firmly in his and looked into my eyes. “Welcome to the world of Dominus.”

  There was nothing welcoming or warm in the way he said it. But I was already beyond the moment of possible return. The doors had closed, and I stood on his side surrounded by the allure of mystery. But no matter how dark my containment, I wanted to be here. I wanted to learn his secrets. I wanted to learn Dominus’s secrets. Most of all, I wanted to learn how to play to win the game of Dominus.

  Chapter 12

  My breasts oozed out of their confines. Luckily, no matter what I did, important parts remained covered, barely. I glanced down at my legs again, lifting each one out in front for a better look—long, creamy-white thighs, muscular without being butch. How long had Tyren spent designing me?

  “How many players do you have playing at any one time?”

  “Max we’ve had here is twenty. Online and it can be in the millions.”

  We stood on top of a cliff, a vast plane stretched below us. In the sky burned a red sun and a blue moon, spanning a good proportion of the horizon, both forever moving across the sky as polar opposites.

  Moondine meant to travel in the direction of the moon; sunder meant to travel in the direction of the sun. Accetus was to head left if you were facing sunder and zendua the right. At the bottom of the chasm, a fast river flowed and was used, apparently, by Phonus to reach some of their towns situated farther downriver where the banks were shallower.

  “Where are all the other players?”

  “We’re in the training sim. You’re outside the game at the moment. Everyone you encounter is an NPC.”

  “Which are?”

  “Non-player characters. They have no function at the moment.”

  “All the jumpsuit people I saw yesterday?”

  “If you were online, there would be few NPCs as the players would populate the city. But we limit the number of players in virtual because we’re looking for the best. We’re not worried about how many we have playing at once but how good each player can become. In virtual, NPCs dominate. However, their purpose changes once out of the training sim. It’s primarily PvP, player vs. player, so the NPCs will become your enemy.”

  “Playing virtual is a different game?”

  “Yes and no. There are some things we’ve changed. It’s more intense and harder.”

  Images appeared in front of me.

  “Time to run through the weaponry. In the beginning, you are allocated a hand weapon. There is a choice of many, as you can see.”

  Everything faded from view except an assortment of blades, the image of each enlarged so I could see them clearly.

  “Blades. Single or double-sided, or the three-bladed triplex.”

  “What are the ones with the spikes protruding from the tip?”

  “Fancy, but that’s all. They look lethal but you gain no edge over your enemy. Elva is responsible for those.”

  “Figures.”

  I think I saw a small smile creep through his animated face, but I could be making it up.

  “If blades are not your thing you could go with clubs.”

  The blades disappeared and a row of clubs hung in the air. Long, short, spiked, or studded. Some even finished in a skull.

  I looked at them without responding.

  “Don’t like? You can go swords.”

  Once again, I was faced with a huge selection of swords while the clubs dissolved into nothing.

  “Do I have to choose something?”

  “No. But you’ll be the only one without a hand weapon.”

  “Do you use guns?” Shooting from afar sounded better than hand-to-hand combat. The idea of wielding one of the weapons that appeared before me turned my stomach. I was glossing through a lethal selection of weaponry so I could bash the hell out of someone physically, not metaphorically. Sure, it wasn’t real, but I would be the one swinging the blade or club or stabbing them through the stomach, not a little animated character on a screen.

  “No. A child can shoot a gun.” The weaponry disappeared and once again I saw the cliff and the plain below.

  “Why does everything have to be about being the best?”

  “That’s the only way you’ll survive. It’s the only way to win.”

  “So what if I die? I’ll just choose another avatar.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. In virtual, dead means dead.”

  “So, I’d be out of the game.”

  “If you’re dead, you can’t play.”

  “That’s a stupid game. Thank god I didn’t fly halfway across the world to play it.”

  “That’s why only the best play virtual.”

  “Remind me again why I’m starting at this level.”

  “Because you can.”

  He turned his back on me and walked toward the edge of the cliff, and I had an urge to poke my tongue out at him.

  “We can forget the weapons for now and start training.”

  “As in?”

  “Hand-to-hand combat minus the weapons.”

  Jax was the most intense guy I’d ever met, both in and out of Dominus, but when in Dominus, his chiseled features and muscular body, including the ridiculous number of ridges on his abs, made him appear the epitome of intense, the game master, the unrelenting, uncompromising taskmaster.

  He strode toward me with his fluid avatar fashion. “We’re changing scene. Hold on.” He held out his hand for me to steady myself with. I hesitated, not wanting to rely on him to keep me upright. “On your ass or on your feet, Sable, which one?”

  Hopefully my avatar expression disguised the face I just pulled. I grabbed his arm as the cliff and plain shimmered out of view. The sudden appearance of white space, and I swayed sideways, but the tightening of Jax’s hand on mine kept me from going right over. He became my reference point.

  Jax gave us more features this time. The floor turned slate gray, the walls off-white, giving the area dimensions instead of infinite space, but no windows or door and I felt trapped.

  “This is the combat arena, but don’t freak. Tyren’s responsible for the name. He likes everything to sound deadly. It’s our training room while in the training sim. You can make mistakes here without threatening your life. Virtual is different from manipulating an avatar on a screen, so recruits spend time in here learning to use their body before they begin the game. When we use weapons, they appear
on the walls for you to select.”

  Jesus, this was serious stuff. “Is it too late to opt out and play the game on the screen?”

  “Yes.”

  Said with all seriousness, including that deadpan expression.

  “Remember what you’re standing on. Falls won’t hurt. The floor will be stationary, which means we could run into each other, which is the point of this training sim.”

  He motioned for me to join him in the center of the floor.

  “Playing online, you get buffs and debuffs, but in virtual, they don’t exist, meaning you don’t gain any skills or advantages or lose any, for that matter, unless you are injured or die. You enter and leave as you are. That’s why it’s essential you’re the best before you enter. You train hard, you get good, and you get smart. Find your factional nature, it’s the only power you’ll gain, and learn to use it with cunning. In the end, you’ll see size doesn’t matter. It’s your ability. Even the smallest can beat Goliath.”

  “That’s a fable.”

  “What makes you think fables aren’t based on truth?”

  I rolled my eyes as Jax continued his instructions without taking time for a breath.

  “We’re going to start with some simple martial arts and get you used to moving your limbs in a virtual sense. All you have to do is follow my lead. Once you have the hang of it, I’ll bring in a bot and you can practice on that.”

  “I never expected a workout.”

  “There’s lots of things you’ll encounter in Dominus you never expected.”

  A breather would be nice, but I doubted Jax would allow that.

  “Let’s begin.”

  The game swallowed me. I forgot about time while I practiced moving fake me and rewiring my brain so it read my virtual vision as the real thing. Jax was right about the falls; bouncy mat equated to nothing painful.

  We ran through the basic moves that Holden had shown me. If Jax was surprised at my somewhat proficiency, he never showed it, but I was likely to miss subtle expression on an avatar’s face.

  After a while, Jax increased the level of difficulty in what he showed me, and that’s when I began to fall apart. Jax was a hard teacher and soon became irritating as hell. He made me repeat and repeat and repeat. After the umpteenth repeat, I told him I would never make the Olympic team so there was no point in training me so hard. His face didn’t crack a smile. He breathed out, told me to do the same, and started me again. Never—with a big capital—had I met someone with such ruthless determination.

  He wasn’t like my dad, he was worse. In both men, Jax and Dad, the calm belied a mind of steel and an indomitable nature that would accept no less than the best I could give. Do it again, repeat. Those two commands ground away at me until I just wanted out. My moves became sloppy as my enthusiasm disappeared into a sinkhole. It was like my life was on repeat. The unobtainable goal, perfection, forever out of my reach. Jax’s barks chipped through to my soul until the unfairness turned to anger, which soured in my stomach and gave me a gut ache.

  I continued with his training because I didn’t know how to refuse, but the ache increased. My kicks became sloppier because I was dreaming more about kicking him in the nuts and watching him roll on the mat than the target.

  Once Jax deemed I was ready, a female bot appeared before me, her face nondescript, her jumpsuit a dull green.

  “Why can’t I practice with you?”

  Wound tight on adrenaline, I needed to release festering emotions. Jax’s persistent demands and brutal training cracked walls inside I was unaware I’d built and let a whole lot of dirty feelings out.

  “This will challenge you. I can slow the bot’s response at first, which will give you time.”

  “Screw the bot, I want to practice with you. You’re better able to control your movements, I’m sure.”

  Coursing through my veins was a wave of anger I didn’t want to stop and had rarely aired before, not out loud, especially not to my father. It’s not that I was afraid of how he would react; I was afraid of what he would think. The dark emotions wanted wings, and I didn’t care what Jax would think. Plus the idea of kicking him in the nuts had stayed in the forefront of my mind.

  “It’s better this way.”

  “I don’t give a damn which way’s better.”

  It was stupid to goad him. Of course he would beat me. At this point I didn’t care.

  “That’s not—”

  “I don’t care what your training schedule permits.”

  In fact, I wanted to pull my goggles from my eyes and see the real him. I wanted to kick at the real him, exercise some of the real tension out of my real muscles. I was sick of staring at creamy, smooth, muscular legs that were supposedly mine but looked like a Marvel character. I was sick of being someone else.

  “If that’s what you want.” His reply was measured.

  I ripped the goggles from my eyes and felt a moment’s wooziness while my mind adjusted to reality after so much time spent looking at a virtual screen.

  Jax removed his goggles too. He stared at me, no question in his expression. It was like he expected nothing less than for this to happen.

  “We do it this way. I’m sick of looking at a fabricated world.”

  Jax tossed his goggles off the mat. “You’ll learn more if I’m not gentle.” He fiddled with one of the silver studs.

  “Whatever.” I approached and took the stance he’d drummed into me for the last few hours. I had a pitiful arsenal of kicks at the ready, which I would perform subpar compared to him, but it made no difference to me.

  I focused like he’d told me to, repeatedly—I was bound to hear the words in my sleep. I assessed his movement, where he placed his weight, what muscles he favored, where his balance sat. I attempted to blanket the amount of similar information I relayed to him. Then, when I thought time had stretched on long enough, I threw my first kick. He deflected with speed, grabbed my ankle, and sent me crashing to the mat, which wasn’t necessary.

  The fall didn’t hurt but I still used a little venom in my voice. “Is that you going gentle?”

  “Yes.”

  I pushed to my feet and inhaled deeply to release my stomach’s knots and blow the tension from my muscles.

  No dancing around this time. I launched into another kick from my short list only to find myself kissing the mat again.

  I pushed up from the floor. If I was still animated, I’m sure steam would be seen pouring from my ears.

  He waited, easy stance, poker face. I tried to stuff the frustration inside away from my face as I blew loose strands from my eyes. My racing heart rate and clenched fists told me I wasn’t succeeding. This time I ran the short distance toward him, thinking the momentum would help add power to my next kick. Adrenaline powered my leg forward out from my hip joint at the same moment a blinding pain shot through my head like a long, thick nail had been rammed through my skull, the agony unbearable. I clutched my head, pressing it hard between my palms as if that would lessen the feeling.

  I fell to my knees and bent low with my forehead on the mat, unable to do anything but cry out through the tears with seemingly no end to my torture.

  Chapter 13

  Strong arms enfolded me, lifting me from the ground. With each jerk from the walk, I squeaked another weak plea. Jax lowered me onto the couch, and I huddled into a ball, knees up to my chin, arms shielding my head as if it would help ward off whatever had taken hold. Through the jags of pain, I became aware of Jax’s hand resting on my thigh. To get me through the mental storm, I tried to focus on the warmth of his touch and the soft, subtle blend of his smell. I allowed my mind to wonder on his scent, fabricating images of cold winter’s nights around the fire, drinking my fill of spiced warm drinks. The longer I focused, the more real my imagination became. We were both there, feet up on the couch, a hot mug of something spicy and sweet cupped in our hands while his other hand rested on my thigh, as it did now, and I imagined his imprint as a cleansing fire, capable of burning
away the pain.

  The headache persisted but I needed to escape my imagination. Despite a white light strobing behind my eyelids in rhythm with the throbs, flashing through my vision when I opened my eyes, I flailed about, trying to sit up. Jax grabbed hold of my hand to steady it.

  “Relax.” His voice was soothing.

  “I can’t see. There’s a light.”

  “Just relax. It will go. But the more you fight, the longer it will take.”

  With a hand on my shoulder, he coaxed me back down onto the couch. I tried to calm down by taking big breaths but found it hard to concentrate with the pain. Again I focused on Jax’s hand, releasing one from my manacle grip while the other stroked my side. His touch was enough to ease the panic.

  Relaxing back, I allowed the throbs to wash through me. He was right, fighting it wouldn’t change the problem. I focused on each beat, noticed where it started in my brain and where it ended, which didn’t make it better but gave me an anchor. After a while, though, the throbs did lessen. And, with more time, dissolved into nothing.

  At first I was afraid to move in case this was a false lull but soon grew impatient. I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was Jax, peering down at me. With a gentle finger, he traced my cheekbone, and my breath crawled to a stop in my throat while he did so. There was no smile on his face, only concern, and something much deeper, an indecipherable but unpleasant understanding that haunted his dark eyes.

  This was too intimate. He was too close. I sat up, forcing him to move back. “That came from nowhere.”

  “You feel better?”

  “The pain’s gone, but I’m afraid to move in case it comes back.”

  “How about I get you a drink?”

  I watched him walk away while my mind jumbled up. What was going on here? I knew how to hate him and fight against him, but I didn’t know how else to be with him, and I didn’t want to learn a new way for us to interact with each other. Jax was a cryptic pain in the ass, intense, and scary at times. Enigmatic came to mind, but I banished the thought because to me it had always meant mysteriously alluring.