Dreadknights, Page 2

PART 2: NEVERDEATH

  11 – SUSPENDED

  When her nodal connection severed Christine found herself floating at her station, surrounded by the blue and greens of the aquatic farm tank. Toto floated nearby, grinning at her loss, until he disappeared between the shadows and strands.

  It was all for nothing. All of the hours of gameplay, the fight with her family, braving Mr. Diggs’s wrath to play on the company’s nodal station. She just floated there, suspended in disbelief until one of her coworkers dove down to get her. They gently led her to the surface and got her some dry clothing.

  Unsure whether she was welcome back at her family’s quarters, she just sat on a bench in the office with her back against a cool wall and her knees up to her chin. She’d heard that some people got so attached to their virtual lives that they committed suicide in the real world when their character died. This was a bit like that. She’d had such high hopes. And why shouldn’t she? Frankly, she’d never played better in her life. By rights, the Dreads should be moving to the next round of Guild Wars. The Final Round.

  But they weren’t.

  Because she made one mistake. One monumentally tiny mistake. She’d trusted Rosco. She’d should’ve seen right through it. All of that syrupy praise he’d poured on her to convince her to give up the battle flag was so obviously false when she thought back on it now. How could she be so stupid?

  Someone in the office told her that her mom was on her way and then turned on the feeds, probably to break the uncomfortable silence or provide her with a distraction. Of course, the latest Guild Wars match was all over the feeds. Various game commentators were waiting for an official word from Guildmaster Trollbogies on behalf of the Dreadknights. Auric Lothario’s player, Axel Leroux, was already doing interviews. He was basically talking up the Monsters versus Metal angle to try to make himself out to be a hero. Goldenboy was represented by Wayne Enterprises, the same company the infamous vampyre slayer Copernicus Gallows was signed to. Copper was a member of the White Hand Club, a group of veteran gamers who’d outlasted pretty much everyone else in Impworld. Her childhood hero, Harper Angelos, was also a member of the White Hand and had even dated Copper at one point in the game. Some said that Goldenboy’s fame would someday eclipse Copper’s, but from the cocky way he carried himself during the interviews, Christine seriously doubted he’d ever be more than Wayne Entertainment’s second string. Especially since his poor strategy in Castle Odious had led to the decimation of almost his entire team! He was going to have to recruit heavily if he hoped to have enough members to qualify for the next match.

  A part of her realized that what she was thinking could be characterized as sour grapes, but she couldn’t get past the fact that if Rosco hadn’t sold them out, the Dreadknights of Outland would have – Edgers Void! The Gears’ flag had only been inches from her hand! That should be Trollbogies onscreen giving a victory speech. And it would’ve been if it weren’t for Christine.

  The next couple days went by in a depressed haze for Christine. She didn’t remember her mother coming by to take her home. Neither did she recall anyone bringing her meals, but the plate of cold food on her nightstand verified that they had.

  Her room was small, barely big enough for the bunk she slept on. One wall was technically a big curtain. The holographic privacy curtain was unpredictable and went on the blink at the most inopportune times, so she opted for a more analog solution to the problem. The last thing she needed was her cousins leering at her as she tried to get dressed. A poster of Harper Angelos was displayed on one wall, along with the Dreadknights logo and her old Doomsmack banner. There were also two posters of Ogress Bloodskull and Wacky Jackie, her character from the Prometheus Initiative. All of the items on her walls were holograms. Hers was a paperless society. No one except the super-rich could afford to even use paper due to the ridiculously high taxes and penalties involved. Everything that once involved paper came in screen and nodal formats now. She took another look at her wall art and made a mental note to erase it all soon.

  A ceiling display told her that she’d lost half a week somehow. Had she really just laid in bed all that time? She couldn’t keep doing this. Determined to emerge from her self-imposed prison, she swung herself out of bed. She recoiled against the chill of the hard floor against her bare feet, but forced herself to stand anyway. She waited for her bunk to recede into the floor. Afterward, her back wall scrolled away to reveal her clothes closet. Her stomach began rumbling as she gathered an outfit in her arms.

  Despite her hunger, she paused before pulling back the curtain to her room. She didn’t relish the idea of facing her aunt and cousins. She was less thrilled over the prospect of seeing her mother’s face, no doubt creased with pity and worry. She took a deep breath and moved the folds aside. Her mother was there, but she was fast asleep at the table, her head lying across her folded arms, her optics resting nearby atop a tablet. The pose was so familiar that Christine forgot her cares for a moment. No matter what else happened, Glinda Johanssen was like a rock in the midst of the stream. Nothing less than mighty could move her against her will.

  Christine tiptoed past her mother to the bathroom. After she stripped and placed her bed clothes in a hamper, she stepped into the shower area. The privacy holoscreen snapped into place. The first cycle coated her in warm sudsy water. She worked the lather through her hair quickly, knowing the rinse cycle wasn’t far behind. The desalinators on Platform 161 worked reasonably well but water still had to be rationed in order to accommodate the sheer number of people who worked and lived here. The drying cycle blew her shoulder length hair into a rat’s nest, as it always did.

  Minutes later, she stood looking in a mirror with a toothbrush hanging out of the corner of her mouth. She sniffed at the sight of the freckles that dotted her face. Everyone always commented that they thought they made her look cute or like she had spunk (whatever that meant), the very opposite of the image she’d been trying to create with Ogress Bloodskull. She’d been able to go through her hygiene routine almost on autopilot, but now the thoughts and questions came crashing through the gates of her mind. She’d put a lot of her hopes into Guild Wars. What was she supposed to do now? Just give up on her dreams and become a farmer?

  She smelled food cooking. She cringed at the thought of facing any of her relatives. She just didn’t feel up to it yet. On the other hand, her stomach turned traitor at the smell of bacon, so she didn’t see that she had much choice in the matter. She shrugged into her clothes and prepared to face the music.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, her mother was sitting at the table, head bowed over praying hands. The sight startled Christine. Her mother was a Christian on paper, but the last time she’d seen Glinda at prayer was around the time her dad died.

  Hearing Christine enter, Glinda looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, her face betraying the mixed hope and worry she was feeling. Looking slightly embarrassed, Glinda blinked her eyes a few times and managed to resolve her expression into a state that Christine generally thought of as Glinda’s “mother look.” Two cups of tea were steeping in front of her. A plate with toast and soy bacon sat opposite her.

  Glinda smiled and patted the table. “You’re up”

  Christine nodded. “I am.” She glanced at the plate. “For me?”

  “Figured you might be hungry if you were finally moving around.” Glinda paused, tapped her teeth with a fingernail and added, “You, um, haven’t eaten anything since the game, after all. Wanna talk about it?”

  “Nope.” She glanced up at the clock. “What day is it?”

  “Thursday.”

  Christine sighed, relieved. Given the date and time, she wouldn’t be facing her aunt or cousins. Keegan was only fourteen, so he was still required to attend school. The Mountain was sixteen and was finishing up his electrical apprenticeship. Her Aunt Maggie was likely at work as well. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “Took a sick day. You had us all worried there for a while.”

>   “Sorry,” Christine said, mostly because she couldn’t think of what else to say. She folded a piece of toast in half around a few pieces of bacon and shoved it into her mouth in great gasping gulps.

  Glinda chuckled. “Slow down. You’re gonna choke.”

  “Sorry. Just. So. So. Hungry,” Christine said between mouthfuls.”

  “You got a message from your guildmaster.”

  Christine raised an eyebrow.

  “You should read it.”

  “Is it bad?”

  Glinda sighed heavily. “Worse than you know. There’s no easy way to say this. You’ve been suspended.”

  “What? Trollbogies suspended me? Tell me you’re kidding me.”

  Her mother opened her mouth to speak, stopped herself and then opened it again. “I’m not talking about your game, Chrissy. I’m talking about your job. PanGen’s citing misuse of company equipment. You’re lucky you weren’t fired.”

  “But Mr. Diggs gave me permission to –” Christine stopped herself. Mr. Diggs had told her he had a lot of money riding on her game. Was this his way of getting back at her? Pretending like he’d never given her permission to use the tank’s nodal station and letting her take the fall?

  “Diggs is dead.”

  Christine felt like her mind was going to explode. How could Mr. Diggs be dead? “What happened?”

  “He was mugged. Right outside his office. Security is still looking into it, but…” She frowned and looked deeply into her daughter’s eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. You don’t need to worry about that right now. I just want you to know that the union has your back. We’re fighting the suspension.”

  “Who cares about the suspension? A man died!”

  “And life goes on!” Glinda shouted. “Wait. I’m sorry. Chrissy, I shouldn’t have yelled, but… Look, you’ve got some important decisions to make and, and this isn’t going to get any easier, so I’m just going to spit it out.” She took a deep breath. “The Dreadknights have suspended you too, baby.”

  Christine felt like she was going to be sick. “But it was Rosco.”

  “I’m sorry, Chrissy. You should probably listen to the message.”

  Christine didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  12 – FARM GIRL

  Christine grimaced as she swatted at something buzzing in her ear. Probably a flier. The little alien bird-bug-whatevers were everywhere. They could be a nuisance but they were mostly harmless.

  The thing she was after was anything but harmless. If she was right, there was a devilpede amidst the corn. Devilpedes were big, ugly menaces that basically looked like somebody crossed a centipede with a scorpion. They attacked pretty much anything that moved. And she was looking for it on purpose.

  She heard a rustling sound off to her right, so she ducked behind a fallen ear of corn. An unnaturally huge ear as tall as a man and as big around as a barrel. The ear was partially exposed, revealing brown, dry kernels the size of baseballs. Even with her background in fantasy realms like Impworld, the fact that Earth plants really grew to fairy tale proportions in Tarak’s soil took some getting used to. There were huge vegetables like this in Impworld, of course, but all of that existed within the confines of the fictional planet of Obsidius. And it wasn’t always like that on Obsidius even! Impworld had only just seen the end of the MageWar, culminating in the supernatural blast that leveled much of the Highreach Mountains and formed the unholy Blight. The shockwave from the blast also radically changed the game at different levels. Some were very slight, but others were more dramatic. Entire races changed appearances in an instant. Plants and animals appeared that no one had ever seen before. And, yes, corn in some areas began to grow until the stalks were as tall as trees and the ears were as tall as a man. And so on and so forth.

  Maybe that was the most difficult part to accept: that life in the Colony was like life on post-MageWar Impworld. Without the dragons and ogres and adventures.

  Well, not for her anyway.

  She was basically training to be a Colonist on the terraformed alien world where she would’ve been playing as Ogress Bloodskull if the Dreadknights had won the Guild Wars. Elsewhere on Tarak, those who made the final cut would be strolling through real life versions of places they’d only seen in the virtual version of the game. The fabled city of Cabon Gabrielle, City of Shields. Pirate-infested Port-au-Doom. The Orc Nation of Manitoba. Mot Hadrall, the City of Eternal Night. The winners of the Impworld Finals would rub shoulders with knights, magus, dwarves, ogres, elves, ophidians and all of the other Free Peoples of Impworld. Christine would be living the life of a medieval peasant serf in a remote section of the terraformed section of Tarak. A drudgery-filled section that would probably never see a hint of her former fantasy adventures.

  That being said, the Colonial Trials were more interesting than she’d thought they’d be. Especially since her qualifying scores and her gaming experience got her into the Tarak’s colonial militia program. Basically, her days in the virtual world were filled with target practice, combat drills and patrols instead of hauling, harvesting and processing oversized produce. Still, there was no escaping the dreary fact that she was trading her days of dragonslaying and dungeon delving for a lifetime of guarding helpless Colonists against the scourges of batwogs, devilpedes and snakeweed.

  Today’s patrol simulation was a bit different. Christine and her crew had been sent into the cornfield to investigate a furrybite sighting. Furrybites were cute but destructive. They looked like fur-covered snakes with kitten faces. They really seemed to enjoy chewing through power cables. Even though she’d only skimmed the briefing, as per usual, no one could’ve miss the bold print warning that furrybites were never alone. Not only did they come in packs of squirming, mewling, cable slicing squee, their presence also tended to precede a devilpede attack.

  Thus far, Christine had seen neither furrybites nor devilpedes. The only thing out of place here appeared to be a stalk of snakefruit sticking out of the ground from beneath the fallen ear of corn. Snakefruit looked like a giant raspberry on a stick. It was technically the fruiting body of a snakeweed patch. She eyed the ear of corn warily, wondering just how much snakeweed was under it.

  “What’s your status, Christine?”

  Christine startled at the voice in her earpiece. Davis Crimmeans was her immediate supervisor. He took his job pretty seriously, but he wasn’t a bean counter. Sometimes he could even be fun. Davis was one of the few things about the Trials that she truly enjoyed.

  “Still sweeping sector 15,” she said.

  “Anything?”

  “Does snakefruit count?”

  She heard Davis chuckle. “Not usually.”

  “I heard something a little bit ago. Something’s definitely here, but I haven’t seen it yet, so it could be anything really.” She sighed heavily for his benefit. “This would be a lot easier if we were fully equipped.”

  Davis chuckled again. “You’re gonna break your fiddle playing that tired old song. Sorry, I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but we have a contractual obligation to maintain the appearance of our game roles. We can’t have peasants running around with magical swords any more than we can have them wearing powered mech suits.”

  “Yes, but we could actually do this job if we had decent scopes and power suits. We might even do it adequately for a change. I mean, why do we need to maintain the façade all the time? Won’t GameComm be tracking players?” she asked.

  “You know the rules,” Davis said. “Anyway just think of this as training for those times when players are nearby and you still have a farm to protect, right?”

  “But they could disguise the suits. Think about it. Elves have most of the abilities of a power suit. Why can’t we –” She heard the rustling sound again. It was behind her now on the other side of the ear of corn. Right behind her. She crouched down low, laying nearly parallel with the ear in order to stay out of sight. Staying perfectly still,
she looked up.

  A devilpede was crawling across the top of the ear toward the snakefruit. She stopped breathing. This one was smaller than the ones she’d seen in the training videos. It was probably twice her length, nothing like the dragon-sized worms she was worried about. It still had two pairs of scorpion-styled mouth pincers that could shred her to bits. As it scanned the area for signs of danger, a gooey liquid dripped from its mandibles. It pooled and ignited in blue flames dangerously close to where she was hidden.

  The creature inspected the snakefruit tentatively. For a moment, Christine thought the devilpede was going to eat it, but then it tensed up and held perfectly still. After a few tense seconds, it crawled off the ear of corn and started to make its way up a nearby stalk. It didn’t seem to know exactly where she was. Or maybe it just didn’t care. That in itself was confusing. The training vids made devilpedes out to be raging monsters that attacked every living thing in sight without the slightest provocation.

  “Christine, come in,” Davis said. He sounded worried. “Is everything OK?”

  The devilpede stopped moving.

  “Christine!”

  “Davis, shut up,” she hissed as quietly as she could.

  The devilpede’s head was pointed directly at her. She tried to hold perfectly still. As if sensing her predicament, a frond of snakeweed emerged from under the ear of corn, unfurled and began trying to wrap itself around her leg. She gripped her fingers around the shaft of the spear they’d given her as she shied away from the grasping snakeweed and slowly rose to a sitting position. The devilpede slobbered more of its fiery goop.

  She rolled to the right at the first hint of movement. The devilpede’s incendiary liquid splashed all over the dried kernels of partially exposed ear of corn. As Christine tried to get to her feet, the snakeweed struck. Intense electric shock competed with the pain of a lacerating wound as the frond exposed its “teeth” and pumped venom into her leg. She used the business end of the spear to chop herself free of the offending plant and then turned it around to defend herself against the devilpede. She threw the spear out of desperation. The spear tip glanced off the creature’s composite eye, resulting in a noticeable gash. The enraged devilpede reared back to spit more napalm at her.

  That’s when she saw the furrybite come slithering around the base of the corn stalk the devilpede was perched upon. The devilpede lost interest in Christine instantly. If she didn’t know better, she would think the devilpede was afraid of the smaller creature.

  Two more furrybites snaked into sight. True to Christine’s suspicions, the devilpede retreated rapidly up the corn stalk and disappeared into the upper canopy.

  The ear of corn exploded behind her as the kernels expanded to the size of basketballs under the heat of burning devilpede slime. Christine was blasted forward, landing on her face. The ear of corn was thrown in the opposite direction as the giant ear of popcorn continued to violently explode in white, fluffy glory. When the ear moved, it exposed a big patch of snakeweed which writhed and lashed out wildly in defense. Electricity crackled and snapped with each undulation.

  The furrybites attacked the patch without hesitation, gnawing at its fronds and roots with a ferocious zeal that belied their cute appearance. A stray popcorn must’ve rocketed upwards and hit the devilpede, for it fell into the snakeweed patch. Even besieged by the furrybites, the snakeweed managed to entangle the devilpede in a makeshift cocoon of fronds.

  The furrybites were the ultimate victors. Impervious to the plant’s electricity, the tenacious creatures fought hard to get to the plants roots. When the snakeweed finally stilled, two furrybite survivors slithered off and out of sight. The devilpede and the other furrybite did not move again.

  Christine waited until she was sure she was safe before she reported in.

  “All clear.”

  “Christine, what happened out there?”

  “I found the devilpede. It wasn’t a big one. A juvenile maybe? Some furrybites scared it off and then they started attacking some snakeweed and then the snakeweed ate the devilpede and – Is this really what life is like on this planet? Because that was completely messed up! You’re inviting people here on purpose?”

  “Oh, please, like you haven’t faced worse as Ogress Bloodskull,” Davis said with an audible snort. “Wait, you said it was chased off by furrybites? That’s… improbable.”

  “I know, but that’s what I saw.”

  “Must’ve been a truckload of furrybites,” Davis said.

  “Actually, I only saw three.”

  “Well, that makes even less sense.”

  “You’re the expert. I’m still getting used to this place,” she said. “You’re welcome to replay the vid if you doubt me.”

  “You can guarantee that,” Davis said, “but only because it sounds fascinating. Not because I doubt you.” There was an awkward pause. “By the way, which direction did the furrybites go off in? We might be able to root out the nest.”

  Christine hesitated. She knew that furrybites were responsible for most of the farm’s electrical problems, but they’d also just saved her life. She didn’t exactly feel good about helping someone track down and destroy her saviors, even if they were just simulations. “Sorry, I didn’t really see.”

  “That’s OK. We can check the vids on that, too.”

  Christine frowned. “Why? I mean, what’s the point? Isn’t this just a simulation?”

  Davis scoffed. “Right. You’re right. Sorry, I’ve been planetside,” he said, “so sometimes I forget. The simulation is very true to life, but you are correct: it is just a simulation, which is very good for you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You’ve got a snakeweed bite. If this had been real, you’d be experiencing a psychotic episode right now.”

  Christine didn’t know what to say to that. She waited while the faraway world of Tarak faded away and her nodal connection brought a GameComm briefing room to life.

  Davis Crimmeans sat across from her at a table, smiling broadly. “Anyway, snakeweed bites aside, we had a very good session today. Your scores are very solid,” he said. “I can pretty much guarantee your entrance into the Colonies at this point.” He paused and looked slightly uncomfortable. “If you’re still interested, that is. If you’re not, I’ll totally understand. Big fan.”

  Christine scoffed. “What are you talking about? Where else would I go?”

  Davis looked genuinely baffled. “Well, you are Ogress Bloodskull, aren’t you?”

  She did her best not to sound cross, but the question annoyed her. “I am. I mean, I was.”

  “I just assumed that you were just hedging your bets,” Davis said. “We all did. I mean, why would Bloodskull want to go to Tarak as an underpaid peasant security guard when she could go as a player, right?”

  She slammed her fists down on the table. “Why are you messing with me? We lost!”

  He blinked at her. It was hard to tell whether he looked more perplexed or afraid. Then he had an epiphany. “You don’t know. Christine, the Dreads are back in it.”

  “What? How?”

  “Haven’t you been watching the vids? The Golden Gears were involved in a rezz scandal. They were doping up before matches to increase their nodal reaction time.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, no, I’m not. If you watch the vids from the Castle Odious match, you can even tell that some of them are moving just a little too fast,” Davis said. “They totally cheated and GameComm disqualified them from Guild Wars.” He considered her with an expression of amused pity. “You know, your guildmaster shouldn’t have left you in the dark like that. You pee in her Pure or something?” With a wink, he picked up a bottle of Pure brand water at his elbow and drank deeply.

  Christine sighed and placed her head in her hands. “Everybody was mad at me for trusting Rosco. Some of the guys thought we never would’ve been in that situation if I hadn’t gone off on that hare-brained plan I concocted.”


  Davis snorted. “I thought that plan was brilliant.”

  “Thanks,” Christine said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that the Dreads suspended me.”

  “Sus – suspended you? Suspended Ogress Bloodskull? The leader in kills for the entire match? The player who was literally inches from the Gears’ flag when their quartermaster betrayed them? You gotta be kidding me, right?”

  “I wish I were.” She sighed again.

  He laughed. “I wish I could say I was sorry, but the only ones who are gonna be sorry are the Dreads.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but –”

  “I’m not just trying to make you feel better,” Davis said. “I got a brother who’s been playing Impworld for years. Harley’s real good at it, too. You might’ve heard of him.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Does the name Baldur Splintershield ring any bells?”

  A chill ran down Christine’s back at the mere mention of the name. Baldur Splintershield was an assassin whose loyalty was to the highest bidder. They called him the Dark Dwarf. He had a reputation for always bringing in his mark… sometimes in pieces. No one could claim to be his equal, except perhaps Lydia Blackthorn and that was purely a matter of opinion. No one had ever escaped either assassin.

  “I’m pretty sure everybody knows who that is,” she said.

  “Well, you don’t get to where he is in the game unless you know a thing or two. He’s got an inside scoop on Guild Wars. If his guy is legit, I’d expect a call from your guildmaster by the end of the day.”

  “Why?” It all sounded too good to be true.

  “Because you’re the key to the Dreadknights moving to the next round.”

  “How?” Christine’s mind was spinning. Did she dare believe him?

  Davis shrugged. “That I don’t know, but my brother’s almost never wrong about these things.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  13 – TROLLBOGIES

  The call came two hours later. Christine was reviewing the previous mission’s briefing on a monitor, looking for more information on devilpedes and furrybites when her V-mail chimed. The monitor said that it was a meeting notice from Guildmaster Trollbogies. The meeting was in two minutes.

  Christine glanced at a clock display. She frowned. Why was Trollbogies asking to meet her at ten minutes till the hour? Why not just wait and have it on the hour like everybody else?

  She glanced at Aunt Maggie. The old shrew was taking a nap in her quarters. Her cousins were at the kitchen table. Bryce and Keegan looked like they were eating way more than their share of the rations. As per usual. Christine walked over to the nodal station, trying to act casual.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Keegan asked with a leer. “You know the rules. No one’s to be on the rig without mom’s permission.”

  “Unless it’s for the Colonial Trials,” she reminded him with a humorless smile. “I just got a V from my trainer. He needs to talk to me about today’s mission.”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Keegan asked, eyes narrowed.

  She scoffed. “Whatever. You can check my monitor if that’s what floats you, but I’m not missing this meeting.” She started walking toward the rig.

  The Mountain stood up.

  She stopped and glared at him. “You gonna try to stop me, Bryce?”

  He looked at her smugly, but before he could say anything, Glinda walked in the door. “What’s going on here?” her mother asked.

  “I just got a V about a meeting and these two are trying to stop me from using the rig,” Christine said.

  Glinda raised an eyebrow and looked at Keegan. “Is that true?”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Dorothy piped up from behind her brothers.

  Keegan shot her a dark look. “Shut up, you.”

  “Mind your manners, Keegan,” Glinda said. She walked over to Christine’s monitor and took a look. Christine watched as her mother’s face fell to worry. She held her breath, fearing that Glinda might try to stop her out of some misplaced desire to protect her from more hurt. Instead, Glinda looked her squarely in the eye and asked, “How do you expect this meeting to go?”

  She remembered what Davis had said. “The inside word is that it’s supposed to go very well.”

  Glinda nodded and turned off her monitor. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  Christine hurried to the nodal rig before anyone changed their mind. Shaking off her nervousness, she dialed up the Guildmaster’s portal and waited.

  Moments later, Christine sat in the guild’s Hall of Dread at a heavy iron table inscribed with the Dreadknights standard. A wiry old woman with black and silver hair sat at the other end.

  “Trollbogies?”

  The old woman smiled. “I thought perhaps it was time you finally met the man behind the curtain, if you will.” She rose from the table and began walking towards Christine. “My name is Olivia Ziegler. I believe I owe you an explanation and an apology.” She held out her hand.

  Christine shook her hand, but still felt wary.

  “May I sit?” Olivia asked.

  Christine nodded. Olivia took the chair beside hers.

  “First things first,” the old woman said. “You are one of the rare few to ever see my true face. I am a dreadfully private person, so I do hope you will keep the details of this meeting in confidence.” She took a moment to study Christine’s face as if searching for some hidden portent. At last, she smiled. “I have a granddaughter your age, you know. Little Elinor Gale. I actually started playing this game for my grandchildren.” She sighed. “I grew up listening to my grandmother’s stories. In the Nodal Age, no one tells stories anymore; we live them. So these were my bedtime stories, if you can believe it.” She laughed a dry, seasoned cackle.

  “They’re all grown up now of course. Like you. Elinor was the youngest. But they’re all very big fans.” She smiled absently. Then she stared at Christine with a steel that she recognized as belonging properly to her guildmaster. “They’re very excited about my prospects of winning Guild Wars, but I cannot do that without you.”

  “Someone told me you might be wanting me back,” Christine said.

  “Back?” Olivia scoffed. “I didn’t fire you! I suspended you on purpose. I needed to make sure you weren’t part of Rosco’s treachery.”

  “What?” Christine stood to her feet, her face flushed. “How could you –”

  “Sit down, quartermaster!” Olivia roared, her face momentarily switching to her troll form for emphasis. Frankly, it was more the fact that she called her out by a rank Christine did not yet possess that got her full attention. “You’re clever and you’re strong but you don’t know everything, Christine. One day, perhaps, you shall be guildmaster and when you are, you will finally understand why my actions were prudent. Nevertheless, I apologize for the pain and anguish it must’ve caused you.”

  Christine looked past Olivia to the pictures hanging on the walls. The Dreadknights had boasted a grand total of twelve guildmasters in its relatively long existence. Trollbogies had served longer than any other in that capacity. For her to even suggest that Christine might become guildmaster someday was high praise indeed!

  “Let me get down to business,” Olivia said. “The Gamelords have disqualified the Golden Gears from Guild Wars. You would think that would entitle the Dreads to a walkover, but Neverdeath believes that their popularity score should have made them the top pick for the Gears’ vacant slot.”

  “That’s Edger’s talk!” Christine said. “They lost their match fair and square.”

  “Ah, but so did we,” Olivia said with a wry smile. “They have the advantage in popularity points and we both know that’s pretty much all GameComm cares about. You know the drill: Popularity points mean better ratings.”

  “So they just get to take our spot?”

  “Not exactly. There are precedents. If the Gamelords approve the match, we can contest the decision as a trial by combat.”

  “So let
’s do that.”

  Olivia shrugged. “Our initial offer was rejected. Guild Wars has created a lot of turnover. We only left the Gears with three survivors. They would’ve had to recruit twelve more players to keep from forfeiting the Final Round.

  “You mean five,” Christine said. “You forgot Rosco and Apep.”

  Olivia laughed again. “Auric Lothario is represented by Wayne Entertainment. Aloysius Prather Wayne is a lot like his father was. He’d never let a traitor on his team. If you can buy a man’s loyalty, someone else can always outbid you! If Rosco’s betrayal taught us anything, it’s that the more we change the roster, the less we can trust everyone on our team. Think about it: a lot of these guys are from other guilds and, well, you can imagine the sort of back door deals that go on. Players defect to other guilds as sleeper agents basically. Or someone turncoats for profit. Doesn’t matter why. It’s just a fact of how the game is played. Neverdeath’s guildmaster is shrewd. Heinrich der Hexenhammer would never agree to a guild versus guild battle royale at this stage. I don’t really blame him either. He likes his current line-up and he wants to take them all to the Final Round. He certainly doesn’t want to risk losing men he might need against Doomsmack.”

  “So what are our options? Is there anything we can do? At all?”

  “The Gamelords have agreed to a player versus player match to settle the dispute. Basically, each guild will choose a champion to represent them. David and Goliath. Winner takes all.”

  Christine gasped. “Wait. You want me to be your champion?”

  “Yes and no,” Olivia said. She rose from her seat and began walking back to the guildmaster’s seat. “And this is why I wanted to meet with you before our official guild meeting. I might’ve chosen you if it were up to me. You certainly led us in kills in our last match and that’s not easy with Killmore on this team.” She shot Christine a conspiratorial wink. “He’s not happy about that, by the way. So you would’ve been a viable choice, but the choice was never mine to make.”

  “I don’t understand. Whose choice was it?”

  Olivia sat in her chair and steepled her fingers. As she took her spot, she became Master Trollbogies and Christine transformed into Ogress Bloodskull. In short order, the other guild members began materializing around the table.

  There was an immediate commotion. “What’s she doing here?” “Traitor!” “Should we expect Rosco to show up next?” “We don’t need her!” “Get her out of here!”

  Trollbogies nodded to Captain Belch Hammerhands. Belch slammed his fists on the table. “Order! Order! This meeting of the Dreadknights of Outland has now come to order! Fulfill your oaths!”

  The table settled into brooding silence.

  “Welcome, Dreadknights,” Trollbogies said. “I have good tidings to bring you today. The Gamelords have shown us favor. We have a chance to fight in the Final Round!”

  Cheers erupted in the virtual guild hall. Trollbogies sneered at them indulgently before banging his trollish fists upon the table for silence. “Before we get down to business, we take time to welcome some new faces to our ranks. We lost several good warriors at Castle Odious.”

  “And a few bad ones, too!” Mudflap said.

  “But at least one bad one too few!” Killmore said, glaring at Bloodskull pointedly.

  Trollbogies ignored the outbursts. “Rise as I call you names. Ugdug and Spike.” Two goblyns stood on their seats so they could be seen above the table. “Dark Mark. Ravyn Rattlebones.” Two ogres rose in their places. “Ogre O’Greg.”

  “It’s just O’Greg actually,” he said. “It’s kind of the clerical error that wouldn’t die.”

  Christine nodded solemnly toward O’Greg. It looked like they had something in common because her character’s name suffered from the same occasional game glitch. When she’d created the character, she’d wanted to just name her Bloodskull, but apparently the name had already been used too recently so GameComm provided her with the alternate of Ogress Bloodskull. She didn’t realize the switch had occurred until it was too late.

  Trollbogies stared at O’Greg impatiently.

  “Right,” O’Greg said. “Carry on then.”

  “And finally, Gopherguts.” Another ogre.

  “Who else?” Killmore asked. “Don’t we have one more spot to fill?”

  “We do not,” Trollbogies said, giving her voice a growling timbre.

  “Apologies, guildmaster, but we lost six and you’ve named only five replacements.”

  “Allow me to address the dragon in the living room,” Trollbogies said. “Bloodskull was never fired. She was only suspended.”

  “Maybe things are different in this guild,” Bandersmack said, “but in the Edger Angels, we’d still need someone to fill in for the member who was on suspension.”

  “Exactly,” Sass-Quatch said, crossing her arms.

  “Her suspension has been lifted,” Trollbogies said.

  The outburst that followed was predictable. Trollbogies endured the siege with all of the care a mountain beset by the might of a raging anthill. When some of the more vocal members had the chance to vent their frustrations, she nodded to Captain Hammerhands, who pounded the table for silence.

  “So is it my understanding that you would prefer to forfeit rather than remove Bloodskull from suspension?” Trollbogies asked.

  Killmore, Sass-Quatch and Bandersmack exchanged a look. “I’m not sure what you mean, guildmaster,” Killmore offered finally.

  “The Gamelords have decided to allow us to fight for the chance to play Doomsmack in the Final Round, but first we must face Neverdeath in a duel.”

  “Then pick me as your champion!” Killmore said. “I lead this guild in all-time kills. I’m the obvious choice.”

  “Look I to be dead to you, Killmore?” Trollbogies shouted. “I am still guildmaster! It is not up for a vote.” Forcing herself to calm down, she added, “Besides, it’s not like that. The Gamelords have decreed that each guildmaster shall choose the other guild’s champion.”

  Sass-Quatch scratched her head. “So essentially, you’ve got to pick the Neverdeath player you’d like to see our champion fight but you don’t know who the champion is, right?”

  “You know who Neverdeath chose,” Tantrum said, eyeing the guildmaster suspiciously. “That’s why Bloodskull’s off suspension. They chose her.”

  “Can they pick a suspended player?” Bandersmack asked.

  “The Gamelords have already approved Guildmaster Hexenhammer’s choice,” Trollbogies said.

  “Who is the Neverdeath champion?” Tantrum asked. “Do we know that yet?”

  Trollbogies sucked in air between her teeth before she spoke. “It has come to my attention that Neverdeath has necrotized a new member into their ranks. When I heard who it was I realized that we had an opportunity to not only get into the Final Round, but to grab a hero’s share of popularity points… and get us a little revenge all at once.”

  She paused dramatically, until Ugdug finally blurted, “Who is it?”

  “The very one who betrayed us has just joined Neverdeath. Bloodskull will duel against Rosco.”

  The noise of the guild hall dimmed to brooding silence.

  Killmore’s eyes were blazing when he spoke. “You chose well, guildmaster, but how do we know we can trust Bloodskull? Some have suggested that she was in league with Rosco the whole time.”

  “It was Bloodskull who came up with a plan to try to get the Gears’ flag when everyone else was playing defense, just as Rosco desired,” Trollbogies pointed out. “Check the vids. Her fingers were literally inches from glory for the Dreadknights when Rosco betrayed us. Do these rumors make sense in light of these facts?”

  Killmore rubbed his homely jaw as he considered her words. All eyes were on him now. At long last, he raised his head and leveled his gaze at Bloodskull. “Shake the pillars of hades, Bloodskull,” he said. “Come back in glory or on your shield.”

  She nodded gravely, but then felt herself startin
g to grin. “Rosco will pay for his treachery,” she vowed. “Dreadknights forever!”

  Trollbogies smiled broadly as the guild hall broke out into cheers and shouts. The rest of the meeting disintegrated into boasting and singing over ale and curdled milk, the latter being a notorious ogrish intoxicant.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  14 – ROSCO

  Once the media caught wind of the Guild Wars grudge match, there was no way Christine could hide the fact that she was still playing Impworld from her aunt. Her aunt Margaret was simply beside herself. Frankly, it wasn’t the scorching fits of rage nor the smoldering dark looks that got to Christine; it was when she caught her aunt crying. On the rare times she’d been dumb enough to ask her what was wrong, Maggie let her have it with that acid tongue of hers. Whatever was going on, it was abundantly clear that Christine was still the designated scapegoat.

  In any case, the duel was kind of a big deal. A lot of folks on Platform 161 followed Guild Wars and even knew that she was Bloodskull’s player, but GameComm was promoting the up-coming grudge match so heavily that now it seemed like everyone knew who she was. PanGen AquaFarms had re-instated her and granted Christine and her family unlimited nodal time, presumably to practice, but mostly to be able to toot their own horn for supporting an employee’s Cinderella story in the name of building company morale. Christine had overheard her mother complaining that PanGen was using the goodwill generated from that gesture to cover a multitude of corporate sins against its employees. Her employer wasn’t the only one hitching their wagon to her star. Her cousins had made a revival-style conversion from hateful bullies to enthusiastic Bloodskull fanboys almost overnight.

  When the fateful day came, PanGen had a professional rig delivered to Platform 161, complete with holoscreens for everyone to watch the action on the big screen. Christine tried not to let it all go to her head. It was a new experience waving to a crowd of fans, friends and family before she stepped into her gaming rig. She indulged the moment, but made herself jack into the system a little earlier than she needed to just to shake off the butterflies and get her head straight.

  As the virtual world materialized around her, Christine noted that Trollbogies was with her. For the moment, they were in the Dreadknights’ guild hall, waiting for the match to begin.

  “You ready for this, Bloodskull?” her guildmaster asked.

  She nodded.

  “Good girl. I just wanted to give you some last second information, just in case you skimmed the briefing again.” She winked.

  Christine smiled despite herself.

  “This is basically a cage match. Hexenhammer won the coin toss so he got to choose the level. He chose Vertigo Bridge.”

  Christine groaned. She really hated heights. Vertigo was a section of the floating Isles of Empyrion that had gotten separated from the main mass. Basically, it was just two masses of rock and earth levitating high in the clouds with nothing but a rope bridge keeping them together. If Empyrion were real, the flying islands would have to contain large deposits of levitanium, the mineral that made hovertech possible. In the real world, the only places you could find levitanium was in near-airless Martian mines and on the planet Tarak. In any case, Vertigo Bridge was a pretty well-known duel stage. Most veteran players tried to avoid it unless they had a distinct advantage like the ability to fly because a fall from that height would even cause the game-death of something as tough as an ogre.

  “I know right?” Trollbogies said, chuckling. “Just make sure you don’t fall.”

  “Rosco has the advantage here,” Christine said. Destruktirs were surefooted on almost any surface. Like many insects. They could even walk upside-down if they needed to.

  “I know, but I still think you can take him,” Trollbogies said. “Besides, we’re really fortunate they picked up Rosco. If I had to pick from the rest of them, you would’ve ended up fighting a wraith or a death knight, because those were literally the best odds I could’ve given you.”

  Christine tried not to let her surprise show too much. Neverdeath was tough. Everyone knew that. Lord Hexenhammer was once a monster hunter. He wasn’t nearly as good as Copper Gallows, but he was good enough to cause the Bloody Barons to put a price on his head. When they caught him, they had him bitten by a werewolf and a vampire at the same time, just to see what would happen. What happened was that Hexenhammer became infinitely more powerful. Neverdeath was born when he began giving the more powerful monsters he hunted the choice he never had: join his crusade or die.

  Deciding that this train of thought was only psyching her out, she shook her head and said, “Let’s do this.”

  Less than a minute later, her nodal connection caused the Vertigo Bridge level to form around her. It was sunrise. Petals blew in the wind from the blossoms of giant-sized peach trees situated on both floating isles. It was almost too pretty for a fight to the death.

  Bloodskull peered across the rope bridge to the other island, where Rosco was standing. He looked a little different than the last time they’d met. Neverdeath necrotized their members, so he was basically an undead destruktir now. Which was a lot like saying he was all blackened exoskeleton. Rosco’s eye sockets glowed with an unholy light.

  “Are you prepared to give your soul to Neverdeath?” Rosco shouted. It was the usual preliminary question asked by all members of the Neverdeath guild before battle. Rosco ended his challenge with a dry, mocking cackle.

  Christine didn’t bother responding. Instead she selected Anthem’s “Spiral Down” from her playlist and marched across the bridge to meet her foe. Most of the boards attached to the rope bridge were secure, but some were loose or rotten. It wasn’t the best avenue for a solidly-built ogress to take, but there was really no other way. From the other side, Rosco made his way across on insect legs. It was apparent to anyone watching that neither opponent had any intention of stopping. This was going to be a head-on collision, a classic game of chicken.

  They met with an audible impact. Hard ogre muscle and armor rattled against hard chitin exoskeleton. Bloodskull had opted for a right cross instead of ducking down for a lower center of gravity. Her hamfist nearly took Rosco’s ugly insect head off its shoulders. The only thing that stopped that from happening was the destruktir’s momentum. Bloodskull felt herself get steamrolled by her opponent as he passed over her. Fortunately, his underbelly did not sport those nasty six inch spikes that covered his shell. Rosco half tumbled, half rolled to a stop.

  Breathing heavily, Bloodskull rose to her feet and faced her opponent. Both combatants sized each other up for a few seconds while they caught their breath. Bloodskull wiped blood from her lip with the edge of her fist. Rosco was bleeding some kind of glow-in-the-dark, look-I’m-really-undead-now goo.

  Rosco snapped his lobster claw in quick succession and ran at the ogress. She avoided his first few wild swings while she backed up to give herself space to think. He lunged at her in an ill-advised attempt to skewer her on the point of his claw. She side-stepped him easily, grabbed the claw in both hands and have it a hard wrench. Rosco stared in disbelief as she held up his severed claw in victory.

  The destruktir roared. As the unholy sound came out of his mandible, his eyes and mouthparts began to glow. The claw in Bloodskull’s hand disintegrated into dust and blew away. A few seconds later, the bone dust reintegrated to reform the claw at Rosco’s arm stump.

  Bloodskull growled. She’d actually read the briefing this time, despite Trollbogies’ doubts on the matter. Neverdeath’s necrotizing process gave guild members the ability to regenerate. This was not unexpected. More like inconvenient.

  As he stopped screeching, the glow dissipated. Bloodskull backed up a few paces and then ran at her adversary. Rosco dashed to meet her, but then tucked himself into a spiked ball and began rolling down toward her like a juggernaut. Christine bounded over him at the last second, somersaulted through the air and then twisted herself around at the last second so that she landed facing Rosco’s retreatin
g form. Not wasting a breath, she thundered after him.

  Rosco uncoiled and sprang to his feet near the other end of the bridge. He turned around to face Bloodskull just in time to catch her first punch. She hit him once, twice, three times, before he snapped his jaws around her fist. She tried to jerk her hand free, but he had a death grip on her. She was not going to lose to this traitor! Roaring with fury, she drove her fist in further into his mouth repeatedly until Rosco released his grip. With both hands free, she grabbed the front of his shell, hoisted him over her head and attempted to toss him over the rope railing of the bridge.

  Rosco disappeared over the edge but the bridge jerked hard, testifying to the fact that he’d managed to get a grip at the last second. She waited where she was, watching for him to re-emerge. The bridge rocked back and forth with his movements underneath. His spider-like legs certainly gave him the advantage in situations like this. At long last, he swung himself back atop Vertigo Bridge. He was more than halfway back across. He used his talon hand to beckon her back into the fight.

  Bloodskull wasn’t stupid. She knew he either intended to use that hedgehog move of his again or to lure her out so he could scuttle back under the bridge and attack her at random like some insane game of whack-a-mole. She also knew she couldn’t win the duel by attrition. The Gamelords made very sure that anyone who played things safely or was in any other way boring found a certain game death. The ratings were everything to GameComm and woe to the player who forgot that!

  Bloodskull sprinted to meet her foe. As she’d predicted, Rosco curled up like an armadillo and began rolling down the center of the rope bridge toward her. The ogress put the brakes about a fourth of the way across. Grabbing the rope railings in each hamfist, she jerked hard, causing the bridge to sway and bounce. Rosco was once again nearly catapulted off Vertigo Bridge. He only managed to save himself by unfurling and hanging on for dear life.

  Bloodskull couldn’t resist mocking his plight a little. “What’s the matter, Rosco? Out of ways to cheat?”

  Rosco recovered his composure. “I don’t need to cheat to beat you, Bloodskull. How about you stop dancing and face me like a man?”

  “Woman,” she corrected automatically.

  He snickered. “Sorry, it’s always hard to tell with ogres.”

  Bloodskull scoffed and struck a pose, placing a hand on her hip as she thrust out it out for emphasis. “I think my fan club would disagree. Besides, you should talk, insect. Tell me: are you a girl cockroach or a boy cockroach?” She waved her hand dismissively. “You know what? Who cares, right? All I know is I’m about to scrape you off my boot.”

  “Give it your best shot, dude.”

  Once again, they ran at each other. Bloodskull lowered herself at the last second and lifted Rosco off the ground. She body slammed him to the bridge. Rosco’s dorsal spikes shattered some of the boards. He caught himself before he slipped completely through. Bloodskull brought her big foot down on his head, forcing him through the breach.

  She watched as he plummeted, shrieking in terror and rage. Her grin began to melt when she realized he was glowing again. What new trick did he have up his sleeve now? Rosco was wrapped up in a web of light. Bloodskull groaned. The downside to a world of magic was that anything could happen. Just what exactly was happening was still undetermined. She leaned over the rail to watch his fall, but at some point he disappeared into a layer of clouds below. Was that it? Was the match over? Was that just a teaser that he could return at the Gamelords’ good pleasure at some future event?

  “Neverdeath!” Rosco’s shriek came in sync with a loud pop and a blinding flash of light. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted to see her foe through the light. As it dissipated, she realized that Rosco was actually hovering above the bridge. He was flying! The destruktir that stood before her was far different from the one she’d fought just a moment ago. Rosco’s ugly head now sported a much bigger set of mandibles, but he now had a body that was more reminiscent of a dragonfly’s. Its abdomen ended in a long vertebral tail tipped with a nasty-looking ball of spikes.

  Bloodskull didn’t know quite what to say at first. This changed the game dramatically. She’d overcome the advantages Rosco’s former body afforded him with ogre cunning and brute strength. Essentially, the game had been one of who could knock whom off the bridge first. Knocking a winged foe off a bridge didn’t exactly have the same effect.

  “You know, something’s different about you, but I just can’t put my finger on it,” she quipped.

  Rosco swooped in for his first pass. Bloodskull ducked beneath him, felt suffered a bludgeoning blow from Rosco’s dragging tail. It felt like being beaten with a morning star! Rosco banked hard and came back around for another pass. Bloodskull ducked again, but this time, she grabbed his tail before the spiked ball at the end reached her. Unfortunately, Rosco was going much faster than she’d calculated, so he ended up dragging her several yards before she let go.

  As she got to her feet, he shrieked again. “Neverdeath!”

  She grimaced. He was playing to the unseen crowd, boosting the popularity ratings of himself and his guild. The higher one’s overall ratings, the better one’s chances of success. The Gamelords rewarded winners.

  “Dreadknights forever!” she roared back.

  Affronted, Rosco began beating his wings faster and faster until even she had trouble staying on her feet. No doubt a human or goblyn would’ve been blown from the bridge long ago.

  “That the best you got, bug brain?” she yelled.

  Rosco answered her by diving below the bridge and out of sight. He buzzed by her a few seconds later, startling her but not really doing any damage. He flew to the end of the bridge behind her and whipped his tail in her direction. To her surprise, the spiked ball separated from the tip and landed between them.

  “Your aim is just… so slaughter, Rosco!”

  He cackled. The spiked pod burst open and three tiny destruktirs burst out. The baby destruktirs looked a lot like Rosco did before he got his wings, except their mouths were a whole lot bigger. At first, they began crawling instinctively toward the only meal in sight: Bloodskull. Then Rosco’s eyes began glowing green. The baby destruktirs’ eyes glowed in response. They immediately began chewing on the bridge.

  Bloodskull started to run toward them to stop them, but Rosco rose high above and dove down upon her. His jaws snapped inches from her face as he flew past. The bridge jolted as one of the babies managed to sever something important. Rosco dove under the bridge and began bashing himself against the underside, causing Bloodskull to stumble. Two more cords snapped and Bloodskull found herself being pitched over the side of the bridge as it tilted. Somehow she got a handful of rope and managed not to fall into the abyss. Her reprieve was brief. There was only one major cord left, which meant all she could do was hang around until the babies severed it as well. She pulled herself up as high as she could go and wrapped her arm around the ropes of the ruined span. Taking advantage of her precarious situation, Rosco dove at her, mandibles gaping wide. To anyone watching, it was clear he intended to bite her head off.

  The destruktir babies severed the last cord.

  Bloodskull began fall. Well, swinging actually. Rosco was so close when the bridge snapped that he was actually entangled up in the ropes and swept along. The ogress gritted her teeth as she fell, feeling every bit of the vertigo the bridge promised in name. She felt like she’d left her heart way up there somewhere. She wondered what it would feel like when she hit the side of the cliff the bridge spanned. Would her ogre body survive that kind of impact? Would she just bounce out into the void where the fall to the ground way, way below would definitely give her a game over to remember?

  Impossibly, she hit nothing. The span of Vertigo Bridge was actually longer than the height of the floating island it was still attached to. As a result, she passed under it and got entangled in the roots of the giant peach trees above.

  Realizing Rosco was still ensnared in the bridge’s r
igging, she started climbing toward him. If she didn’t finish him off before he got free, she doubted she’d get the upper hand again. A baby destruktir, the only one to ride out the fall bit her hand, nearly causing her to lose her grip. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she swatted the big mouthed bug off its perch. It squealed as it fell out of sight. Rosco was nearly free by the time she reached him.

  But not quite. His spectral eyes seemed to widen as she grabbed hold of the rigging that still held him with one hand and bashed his skull in with the other. He snapped at her desperately with over-sized mandibles, while he got his lobster claw free. He managed to halt the arm that was raining down blows upon him by trapping it between his pincers. Bloodskull leaned in and bit his elbow hard enough to sever it. Rosco began shrieking.

  “Oh no you don’t!” Bloodskull said. “This extreme makeover ain’t done yet!” She beat him in the face, until she managed to break off one of his mandibles with one powerful blow. The regenerative shriek stopped as Rosco began choking on the glowing ichor that spilled from his mouth. Desperate to get away, he increased his struggles to free himself, almost bucking Bloodskull off in the process. First he got one wing, then another free. He was shrugging off the last of his bonds when Bloodskull climbed up behind him, wrapped her legs around him and ripped both wings off. Rosco was so stunned at the loss that he lost his grip. Pitching forward, he fell, taking Bloodskull along for the ride.

  Bloodskull held on tight to the destruktir’s body as they fell. She glanced upwards longingly, but the floating islands were getting further and further away. Rosco wouldn’t be able to save them because she’d so effectively stopped his ability to regenerate – including his wings! They passed through a layer of cloud, removing the floating islands from view.

  As the ground came rushing for them, she realized there was really no escape this time. Neither of them were going to survive this fall. Would they call the duel a draw if that happened?

  She wished she could just stop time right now. She wasn’t ready to face everyone back at Platform 161 with this failure. She just wanted a do-over. And lacking that, a big pause button.

  Her eyes widened when she realized she had one last chance. With seconds before she hit the ground, she gripped Rosco’s body with her knees and drew back both arms for one last strike. Marshalling every ounce of power her ogress body possessed, she brought both fists slamming onto either side of Rosco’s head, crushing it instantly.

  Everything froze just feet away from the ground.

  “Game Over!” a voice thundered. “Victory goes to Ogress Bloodskull and the Dreadknights of Outland!”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  15 – TOUR

  Christine Johanssen ended her nodal connection to the sound of rancorous applause. It seemed like everyone on Platform 161 had turned out to offer her congratulations on her victory. Faces she’d never even seen before were wearing shirts with Bloodskull’s face on them. Someone took up the chant of “Bloodskull!” until someone else challenged the cheer by shouting “Dreadknights!” Eventually someone on the other side of the room started shouting “Forever!” immediately after “Dreadknights!” Her fans – her fans! – made a game of it as they carried her along on their shoulders, parading her around like their own personal trophy. She let herself be carried along by the wave of well-wishers and back slappers until Glinda showed up to rescue her from the party crowd. She acted like her mom was a wet blanket but the truth was that she was just exhausted after her duel. All she wanted right now was a hot shower and to sit in front of the vids listening to game commentators talk about her triumph until she drifted off to sleep. And didn’t she deserve it?

  Her Aunt Maggie met her at the door. “Well done, niece. You done this family proud out there today.” Her congratulations actually seemed sincere. If anything, she looked… surprised.

  “Thank you,” Christine said. “I’m really beat. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and go to bed if that’s OK with everybody else.”

  “Well, that’s just the thing,” Maggie said. “You’ve got a whole stack of Vs over there waiting on you. It looks like fan mail and interview requests. I only know that because I read the subject line,” she added quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Christine bit back a snarky comment. She knew full well that her aunt had no qualms about snooping around in her mail. “Oh. OK, I’ll check those out then.”

  “Keegan, heat her up some of those pizza bites she likes and fetch her a bottle of Pure,” Maggie said. Keegan looked absolutely confused by the request, but to his credit he wasn’t fool enough to leave his mother waiting. “She’s got a busy night ahead of her.”

  Christine smiled and shook her head. “What’s got into Aunt Maggie?” she hissed into her mother’s ear.

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Chrissy,” Glinda said. “The wind always changes back to its preferred course.”

  Christine nodded and headed for the coveted family nodal station. Slipping on the visor, she made a connection to her mail. The first one was from someone who claimed to be her biggest fan. She almost ripped the visor off her head when the message came on. Apparently, her biggest fan was a big fat naked guy! Unfortunately, nodal technology made V-mail as immersive as any other virtual reality program. After deleting that particular V with no small amount of satisfaction, she took a moment to toggle the sex filters back on. She knew Keegan was probably the pervert responsible for turning them off.

  The next one was from a cute little girl with her face painted red like Bloodskull. Adorable.

  The one after that caused her to erupt in an involuntary squeal of delight. “I can’t believe it! It’s an interview request from Level Up! This can’t be real, right? Eddie Mondo wants to interview me. Can you believe it? This is so slaughter!” Honestly, the only thing that could’ve been better would’ve been the chance to be on Arcadium, but a girl couldn’t have all of her dreams come true in one night, right?

  Christine continued to sift through the glut of Vs until her mom was forced to manually disconnect her and tuck her into bed. She went to bed with a grin on her face and the wry thought, I’m kind of famous.