Hyperborea

“It’s so romantic, is it not?” She flutters her hand over her heart and pretends to swoon. “Oh! Allow me to fetch some complimentary appetizers before I get ahead of myself. Please, be seated and make yourselves comfortable.”

She curtsies, backs away from them, and unerringly duck-walks backward through the child-sized entrance, hoop skirt and all.

Their warrior woman associate gives them a thin and humorless smile.

“We should start with names. You can call me Zaena.”

“Ryuk.”

“FeeTwix,” he says as his eyes morph blue.

“Good, Ryuk the Ballistics Mage and FeeTwix the Berserker Mystic.” Her expression remains carefully neutral as she continues, “You wish to know why I attacked you.”

“We can start there.” FeeTwix nods, brings his gloved hands onto the table and laces his fingers together.

“You attacked me first.”

FeeTwix raises an eyebrow. “I think you have us confused with some other players.”

She ruffles her hair with one long-fingered hand. “You weren’t there, but he was,” she indicates Ryuk with the DisNike two-finger point. “Earlier today, a powerful Ballistics Mage – who looks just like you – and some sell-sword scum attacked me.”

“Me? That’s impossible.”

“Do you know where Jatla is?” she asks.

“I seriously wish I didn’t. Our guildhall is there.”

“It was near there, in the piney forest that separates Jatla from the rest of the continent.”

“Well, it wasn’t us,” FeeTwix assures her.

“Yes, I know that now, especially after the crap fight you put up.”

FeeTwix shakes his head in disbelief. “You realize we beat you back there, right?”

She holds her chin high. “No. I let you win.”

“Revisionist history,” FeeTwix coughs into his hand.

“Bonjour!” The hostess returns with a tray of macaroons and tiny squares of opera cake. She giggles as she places them on the table and quickly promises to return with beverages.

Zaena uses one of her ghost limbs to reach for a square of cake. To FeeTwix and Ryuk, it looks like the cake is magically floating in the air. Ryuk selects a macaroon and downs it in one bite. A feeling of warmth and euphoria spreads through him.

What’s in these pastries? He looks at them again and sees that each pastry has the faintest of faint yellow outlines.

Skill level up!

Skill: Magic Eye

Level Two: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the wiktionary of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. A yellow outline signals that an object is enchanted.

Requirements: Level 4 Mage, LUCK > 5.

The Thulean takes a dainty nibble from her cake. “As I said, I let you win.”

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes narrow on Ryuk. She bristles. “Excuse me?”

“This isn’t my first avatar; I’ve spent a lot of time on Ultima Thule and I know for a fact, that Thuleans don’t back down.”

“I didn’t back down; I let you win to end it.”

“That’s backing down.”

She huffs and rolls her orange eyes. “Once I knew you two weren’t the ones who’d attacked me, I ended the fight.”

“That’s not how it really played out,” FeeTwix says, “but sure, if that’s how you want to spin it, fine, you didn’t back down. Personally, I’m more interested in your statement about a Ryuk doppelgänger in the forest outside Jatla. How is it that they didn’t kill you?”

“I got lucky. They had a prisoner, a female White Warrior. She head-butted one and kicked the knee of the Ballistics Mage, which distracted him in a major way. I killed the two sell-swords and the Ballistics Mage fled with his prisoner. It is safe to say that she probably saved me.”

“A female White Warrior? What did she look like?” Ryuk is suddenly eyes front and attention fully focused. Could it be?

“Long white hair with thin braids behind her ear, cheap armor typical of a new avatar. She had a sheath for a sword of unusual size, but the sword was missing.”

“Is it her?” FeeTwix asks him. “Did your friend have the braid?”

“It was Tamana, it has to be!”

“Who?” Zaena asks.

Ryuk takes a deep breath and says, “It was our friend, I mean my friend, who saved you.”

(x)__(x)

Ryuk explains it all, from Tamana’s attack and subsequent death in the real world to her kidnapping here by the Shinigami. He is briefly interrupted by the hostess, who brings hot tea for the three in a Drukpa Kunley-themed samovar. She simpers, curtsies, giggles again, and leaves as quickly as she came.

“Do you know what hour you logged in?” Zaena asks Ryuk soon as the hostess is gone.

“At the Hour of the Water.”

“And I was assaulted at half past Water.” Zaena admires another macaroon. “These really are lovely, aren’t they?” She pops it in her mouth. “I told you this place was decent; too bad all their food is spiked with aphrodisiacs. Luckily, most herbs have no effect on Thuleans, at least they are not supposed to.” In goes another macaroon. Zaena’s eyes seem to unsquint a little. They’re still straight little lines, but their edges have softened some. “And what is the name of your guild?”

“Right now we’re calling ourselves the Mitherfickers. The third member is a goblin named Hiccup.”

Ryuk kicks FeeTwix under the table. “That’s not our name!” he hisses.

“The Mitherfickers, huh?” Zaena chuckles. “Most amusing, in a vulgar and guttersnipe sort of way. I believe that Gob-swearing will be all the rage in the not-too-distant future, so you two have got a leg up on the trend. Should I instead say three of you? Where is the goblin you spoke of earlier?”

“Probably having his chalupa waxed by an orc lap dancer right about now,” FeeTwix snorts.

“Having what done to his what by a what?”

Ryuk to the rescue. “Never mind. We’re supposed to meet him tomorrow morning, at the Hour of the Morning Fire.”

She looks him over for a minute as she nibbles another macaroon. “These are simply wonderful! You know, for a pair of soft, weak, inept, clumsy, bumbling low-level commoner stumble-bums, you suck less than many.”

“You’re only level 11,” FeeTwix reminds her.

She ignores him and focuses on Ryuk. “And your armor, that’s dream armor, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He touches the iridescent epaulet over his right shoulder; it’s warm to the touch.

“I’ve seen it before, on a higher level and much more skilled warrior of course; it’s really quite powerful. You should really take it to a master armorer or a weapons master to have it matched to your aura, but if you’re willing to spend the rupees it’ll be well worth it.” She turns to FeeTwix. “You, I understand. A new avatar with money to burn on fashion statements and non-conventional weaponry.”

FeeTwix’s eyes flicker black.

“And your eyes?” She cocks her head to the right. “It feels like your eyes are the windows into thousands of souls, and all of them are watching me.”

FeeTwix shrugs her off and she returns her attention to Ryuk. “You shot me with something that froze time, correct?”

“A time marble.”

She ghost limbs up a napkin and daintily dabs the macaroon crumbs from her lips. “You aren’t experienced enough to wield time marbles.”

“I actually used a clear marble, which is a wild card. It can be anything and has been helpful and … not so helpful in the past.”

“Indeed. Thus it is with those. What other types of marbles do you have?”

“Knife marbles, exploding black marbles, and clear marbles.”

“You need something to cast them with more force,” she states in a matter-of-fact voice. “Your slingshot is a toy for children.”

“I’m aware.”

FeeTwix claps his hand on Ryuk’s shoulder. “Talk about a convenient segue! A fan just sent me a prototype of something she’s been working on for you. Check out the image.”

Ryuk raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Do I even need to ask?”

“Notice the lack of trigger? That helps get around the firearms penalty.” FeeTwix pulls his shooting iron from the back of his pants and places it on the table. “My Desert Eagle, .50 Action Express. Now this – this is a firearm, as described by the Tritanian bylaws, which define ‘firearm’ as any instrument or device that uses an explosive reaction to propel a projectile through a barrel or tube.”

He gestures to the image. “This – shaped like a firearm, looks like a firearm, but not a firearm. No moving parts – no trigger, no explosive propulsion.”

Ryuk is singularly unimpressed. “So it’s a club. A short-handled, badly angled club.”

“Ah, not so, my friend.” FeeTwix grins, “It uses energetic thaumaturgial linear acceleration to boost your magic marbles to über-sonic velocities. And the best part?”

Ryuk gives him a skeptical look as FeeTwix taps his finger against his temple. “It is triggered with the power of your mind, Young Padawan. That’s all the weaponsmistress said about it; my guess is that it’ll be ready soon.” He swipes the image away.

“Interesting.”

The Desert Eagle suddenly floats in the air. In a calm and soothing tone, FeeTwix says “We’ll all be much happier if you point that away from us and put it back on the table.”

“Hmmmm … ” She transfers the gun between her ghost limb and her hand. The hammer’s cocked, the safety is on, and her finger is all over the trigger. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryuk sees FeeTwix’s finger move behind his back.

Scrolling behind his back?

A short-barreled Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum revolver appears in his hand. Without appearing to, he keeps his eyes on Zaena, casually returns his hand to his lap, and aims the hand-howitzer at her from under the table.

“I really don’t know how to use this thing,” she tells him, “well, aside from pulling the trigger.”

She flicks the safety off with her thumb, and with finger still on the trigger, doesn’t quite point the weapon at the pair of them.

The hair on the back of Ryuk’s neck stands to attention, and he hears the distinctive click-click as FeeTwix thumbs back the hammer on the big Smith in his lap. Zaena grins, and with the delicate grace of a careful drunk setting down a Ming vase full of nitroglycerin, she returns the weapon to the table.

Another macaroon lifts into the air and she takes a bite. With his off hand, FeeTwix grabs the gun and returns it to his inventory list. His revolver, however, remains unreturned and pointed at the Thulean’s heart.

“So there are only three in your guild, correct?” Zaena asks. “I mean, not counting the kidnapped White Warrior.”

“That’s right.” Ryuk’s nerves calm, but only slightly.

“And you’re meeting the goblin at the Hour of the Morning Fire tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.”

“And where will you go from there?”

“We will level up some more,” he answers. “We’re supposed to meet the Shinigami in Aramis in two days now.”

“Do you know where you’re supposed to meet them?” she asks.

Ryuk looks to FeeTwix.

He jumps as a hand brushes against his shoulder; the Thulean has left her seat

“Well, it was interesting speaking with both of you,” she says.

“You’re leaving?” FeeTwix asks. “Just like that?”

“Just like this,” she yawns. “It has been a long day, and I’d better get some rest.” She strides to the waist-high door, pauses, and turns back to the two with a half-smile. “What? Did I even mention joining up with you?”

Before either of them can formulate a reply, she pops open the door and is gone.

Chapter 11: Back to life, back to reality

To recharge their avatars, Ryuk and FeeTwix book a room in the love hotel.

Without so much as a raised eyebrow or askance glance, the front desk hospitality host tells them that there is only one room available, the heart-shaped Salle d’Amour featuring a heart-shaped bed, heart-shaped throw pillows, heart-shaped candles, heart-shaped water-based lubricant dispensers, heart-shaped vibrating novelty toys, heart-shaped towels, loofahs, sponges, and a single bar of soap shaped like a spleen. From floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall, the heart motif is displayed with the same pernicious ubiquity that the North Koreans give their current juche pimp’s portraiture.

“I’m logging out,” Ryuk announces. “I’ll be back in at the Hour of the Morning Fire.”

FeeTwix plops onto the bed and his eyes go from black to blue. “It’s been a long time since I spent the night at a love hotel. Fun places, really.”

“You’ve stayed in one?” Ryuk asks.

“I’ve visited South Korea several times for Proxima conferences. I have a pretty big following there, especially in Busan. So yeah, I have. You must have as well, being from Japan and all.”

“Not all Japanese stay in love hotels.”

“Sure, and not all Swedes have blue eyes and blonde hair.” FeeTwix places his hands behind his head.

“I will see you in the morning.” Ryuk offers FeeTwix a small bow. He logs out before his guildmate can say anything else.

As the wave lengths on the inside of his NV Visor slow to a crawl, Ryuk slowly becomes aware of his surroundings. It’s almost three in the morning in Tokyo, and his mouth tastes like the entire cast of the all-orc version of Riverdance has tap danced through it barefoot.

He removes the NV Visor and stands on wobbly legs. He yawns, stretches, and rolls his head on his neck. A half-finished water bottle on his nightstand diminishes the orc-flavor somewhat, and he’s just getting into bed when he notices the stygian outline of someone sitting seiza in front of his bedroom door.

“Hajime!”

The humandroid’s eyes open. “Ryuk.”

“You scared me!”

“I dismissed Kodai’s men; it’s safer if I am in the room with you.”

“Just stay in the living room, like you normally do.” Ryuk props a pillow up so he can sit with his back against the headboard. “It’s stupid. You know how much protection I have. And for what?” He kicks his legs onto his bed.

Hajime considers his statement for a moment and says, “The man who sleeps with a machete under his pillow is thought foolish until the one time that he isn’t.”

“I remember you telling me that once before, but with a gun.”

“A gun is even better. How is the ultimate quest going?”

“Just leveling now. We encountered a Thulean warrior woman who was attacked by the Shinigami. They had Tamana, and one of the players looked just like me.”

“A doppelgänger? Intriguing. More intriguing still is that they refer to themselves as ‘gods of death’. And this Thulean female, what of her?”

“I really don’t know. She attacked us because she thought I was the evil Ryuk, and she played with FeeTwix’s gun a little bit, but other than that, she didn’t seem too bad.”

Hajime is silent for a moment. “And tomorrow’s plans?”

“More leveling up. If I can get to Tamana, I’ll be able to figure out what happened to her.”

“Wants and needs, wants and needs.”

“Excuse me?”

“You should rest,” Hajime says after a short pause. “Your training begins in four hours.”

“My training?”

“Goodnight.” Hajime stands, bows, and exits the room. Ryuk can hear him sit down on the other side of the door.

My training?

The familiar smell of Hajime’s Nag Champa incense drifts in from the living room. Ryuk rolls to his side and focuses his attention on a glowing icon on the bottom of his iNet screen; a reminder that a new episode of an anime set in Tritania called Flight Feet,フライトフィート, has just been released, a show loosely based on some of the more infamous quests undertaken within the game.

The icon senses his attention; the show is painted across the inside of his eyelids. In the latest episode, a group of mercenary forest ninjas and their leader, a buxom elf wench with blue hair, fight their way through the Attla Forest with a goal of collecting Attla spider venom to use in a future battle against their rival guild.

It’s a tried and true story line, based on something the Knights of Non Compos Mentis did years ago, in the distant past before Ryuk was born.

He fights to stay awake to finish the episode, but struggles in vain. The last troubling thought on his mind before sleep takes him is about Tamana – he should have done something more to save her.

He should have done something.

(0)__(0)

A prompt from Hajime wakes Ryuk:

Ryuk selects option two.

He rolls to the right, and even with eyes still closed, a beam of morning sunshine sears his rods and cones. Covering his face with a pillow is the only logical action, but he’s awake enough at this point to check a few feeds he follows on GoogleFace Line. He’s deluged with non-news, celebutard oopsies and lolcats, and reaches his threshold of annoyance pretty quickly. He rises, scuffs into his slippers, and heads straight to the bathroom.

Examing himself in the mirror, Ryuk runs his hand through his black mop of hair and tries to smooth out that damn cowlick one more time.

He splashes cold water on his face and jolts himself slightly more awake. The delicate scent of gently bubbling miso broth meets his nostrils, beckoning him to the kitchen.

His stomach feels particularly empty, but he decides he has enough time to shower. He frees himself from yesterday’s clothes, adjusts the water temperature and seats himself on the plastic stool under the showerhead.

The steam billows around him and the image of Tamana leaping in front of the train flashes before his mind’s eye. He does his best to push it away as he lathers his hair, and the warm water sluices down his face, runs down his chest and back and twists to the drain.

With eyes still closed, he’s eventually distracted by a game of Pong on his iNet screen against some anonymous player in his apartment building.

The mystery opponent defeats him in no time, and he finishes his shower and towels off.

Ryuk changes into a pair of black jeans, dark gray shirt and his favorite black sweater, which he bought a few months back at a Uniqlo boutique. He was with Tamana at the time; Hajime wasn’t yet part of his entourage, but he had others outside the store keeping an eye on him.

“Is it too cold?” Hajime asks as Ryuk enters the dining area and sits.

“No.”

“I can turn the heat on.”

“I’m fine; I like the sweater.”

Hajime places a clay bowl of miso soup in front of him. “Careful, it is hot.”

After he sets the temaki rolls down, Ryuk goes to town. As he eats, Hajime begins rearranging things in the living room.

“I would like you to turn off your iNet feed for the next hour,” the humandroid tells him. “We will start your training as soon as you finish breakfast.”

“Isn’t that kind of a bad idea?” Ryuk asks. “I mean, for my stomach.”

“Have you turned it off yet?”

Ryuk checks the Tritania player boards once more, checks to see if he has a message from anyone – he doesn’t. A prompt appears asking him if he is sure he’d like to log off and he selects ‘yes’. None of this requires any physical action; his life chip is the neural lace that allows him to do any number of things through the symbiosis between brain and technology.

A small power icon now glows in the bottom right hand quadrant of his pane of vision, reminding him that he can log back on anytime.

“It’s off.”

“Good. Now remove your food from your placemat and look beneath it.”

Ryuk does as instructed. Beneath his placemat he finds a card that reads: Emphasize differences.

“What’s this supposed to mean?” he asks.

“It’s your oblique card for the day.”

“I see … ” Ryuk finishes his soup. He gets the sudden urge to check iNet but a quick look at Hajime stops him. The humandroid pulls his hair back into a tiny ponytail; he rolls his head on his shoulders for a moment to loosen up.

After a quick glance around the room, he moves the glass coffee table clear to the far wall. “Are you finished yet?” he asks without looking at Ryuk.

“Finished.”

“Good. I want you to come over to me now. Stand directly in front of me.” Once Ryuk is standing in front of Hajime, the humandroid calmly places his arms at his sides. “Now, I want you to hit me.”

“Do what?” Ryuk can hardly believe his words.

“I want you to hit me, strike me, as if I were your brother and he had just punched you in the face. Come at me! hit me!”

Ryuk takes a step back.

“Hit me!” Hajime says again, louder this time. “Hit me!”

Ryuk takes his swing and at the very last second, Hajime steps aside. Ryuk tumbles forward and narrowly avoids colliding with the wall.

Hajime claps his hands together and gets into position. “Again.”

“I don’t see the point in this.”

“Again!”

Ryuk tries to lay Hajime out with a running swing. Hajime ducks just in time, almost as if he is slowly bending forward to bow.

“If you want me to hit you, stop moving!” Ryuk runs at Hajime again. He misgauges his step and Hajime catches him almost as an afterthought.

Ryuk pushes Hajime away. “I don’t want to learn Aikido.”

“I’m not teaching you Aikido; I’m teaching you about differences and how to emphasize them.”

He exhales forcibly. “This is stupid. You’re a humandroid; I’m sure you know my trajectory before I even start to swing.”

“I’ve turned off all my predictive capabilities when it comes to combat. In fact, I haven’t used them in nearly a year.”

“Really? Isn’t that … ” Ryuk thinks of the word. “Against protocol or something?”

“Try to attack me again, surprise me this time.”

Ryuk turns away from Hajime. “I need to log in.”

“Attack me!”

Ryuk pivots and brings his fist around; Hajime sweeps his legs out from beneath him.

Ryuk lands on his back and with a loud umph, the trauma forces his iNet system on. It scans his vitals, notes the changes in heart rate and body chemistry, and a flashing prompt asks him if he needs medical attention. It reminds him that he must give an answer or medical help will be sent to his location.

“Why did you do that?” Ryuk curls to his side as his stomach clenches and his inner ear shifts. He puts all of his focus on not upchucking right there in the living room.

“What are our differences?” he asks. “Have you ascertained the meaning of this morning’s oblique card?”

A few deep breaths in but Ryuk still feels nauseated, and the anger and frustration aren’t helping any – getting his ass handed to him in his own living room is not how he planned to start the day.

“I don’t know,” he grits, “this is stupid.”

Hajime helps him to his feet and in the same motion tosses him over his shoulder.

Whoof! Whatever air was in his body is gone again. Ryuk’s pulse pounds in his temples; his head feels like it’s about to explode. He moans, and again his gorge rises in his throat. He rolls to his knees and crawls to the bathroom.

Hajime follows close behind him, light on his feet as a helium cat in wool socks. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“Fuck you!” He kicks the bathroom door shut behind him. He goes for the toilet and makes unproductive gagging noises; he feels even more frustrated with himself for being so weak. Seething with anger now, he pulls himself up to the sink. He takes a good long look at himself in the mirror and …

Laughs.

His hair is a mess and still a little wet too, his skin is now blotchy, his pupils are tiny dots.He’s never actually seen himself in such an enraged state.

Sure, he’s seen himself depressed, mopey, tired, but never this angry. His laughter ends when he recalls why he’s in the bathroom – to vomit – and the fact that Hajime seems hell-bent on either beating the shit out of him or annoying him to death with his little oblique kōan.

He opens the door to give Hajime a piece of his mind only to find the humandroid in full headstand. “Do you think you can punch me now?”

Ryuk clenches his fist, looks down at it, and slowly lowers it to his side. “What’s the actual point of this?” he asks. “Just get to the point, Hajime, I need to log in soon and I’d like not to have a concussion when I do.”

“Were you laughing in there?” Hajime remains straight as a board, his hands clasped behind his head to create a perfect base.

Ryuk clears his throat. “Briefly.”

“Why?”

“Because I looked stupid when I’m angry.”

The humandroid’s legs remain perfectly straight, his feet angled so the tips of his big toes are touching. “I haven’t met a human yet who doesn’t look stupid when they are angry.”

“Good, so I was angry and I’m not now – still a little frustrated, but that will pass.” He shakes his head at the upside-down humandroid. “You may have given me a migraine, and you’re lucky I didn’t vomit.”

“No, you are lucky you didn’t vomit; I’m lucky I don’t have to cook more food for you.” Hajime arcs his legs backwards and brings himself back to his feet. He turns to Ryuk and offers him a peaceful grin. “I must know: You had an opening just a moment ago while I was in a headstand. It would have been hard for me to block you in that position, even with my physical advantage.”

Ryuk shrugs him off. “Look, Hajime, I really don’t understand what you’re trying to prove here.”

“I really want you to think about how the phrase ‘emphasize differences’ applies to what has happened here. That’s what all this was about.”

“How does the phrase have anything to do with me attacking you? It’s not like I could actually win.”

“You are indeed correct that you would not win in direct physical confrontation with me, but oddly enough, you declined to engage even after I offered you an easy attack.” Hajime smooths out the long sleeves of his robe. “Emphasizing our differences would lead you to believe that you couldn’t best me. Along the same thought process, emphasizing our differences led you to grant me mercy.”

Ryuk scratches the back of his head.

“Emphasizing differences is helpful in preparation, but knowing what you have in common with your enemy is equally helpful. In a headstand, both of us are disadvantaged. In the case of what just happened, emphasizing differences led to missing your opportunity to attack.”

Ryuk eyes him wearily for a moment. He’s pretty sure that Hajime would have performed some sort of hurricanrana if he had attempted anything.

“Now, I want you to sit for ten minutes and think about the two words.”

“Hajime … ”

“Ten minutes, then you can log in. We’ll discuss it more once you log out this afternoon.”

Ryuk clears his throat. “Actually, I wasn’t planning on logging out this afternoon.”

“You are now,” the humandroid says, “we need to do some research in regards to NPCs attacking people here in the real world. But first, ten minutes of silence, and no iNet.”

Chapter 12: Hanging coffins

‘Radio silence’ is an archaic term not often used in the hyper-connected 2070s, but the concept perfectly describes Ryuk’s brief experience with his moment of reflection. A small part of him hoped for it to last longer, but his ten minutes of disconnectivity ended almost as soon as they started.

Now in his haptic chair, he places the NV Visor on his head and adjusts its strap.

The sine waves begin their hypnotic dance, and Ryuk is prompted to select a spawning location. He chooses the love hotel, his last physical location in the game, and his avatar takes shape in the lobby after a few moments. He checks his stats and notices the change in defense with his dream armor.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 5 Ballistics Mage

HP: 213/213

ATK: 48

DEF: 47

MATK: 81

MDF: 24

LUCK: 6

The same hospitality host is behind the front desk, and as Ryuk heads to the Salle d’Amour, the deskman looks up from his book and calls after him. “Sir? Sir? SIR! Your friend has vacated your previous room and is now in room 309.”

“Why’d he do that?”

The clerk wipes his hands. “Sir, we here at the Rosebud never pry into our guests’ activities. Room 309 is where you’ll find him.”

“Thanks.” The circular stair case to the third floor features stylized paintings of idealized romantic couples – Kurt and Courtney, John and Yoko, Barrow and Parker, Stein and Toklas, Jack and Marilyn, Rivera and Kahlo, Edward and Wallis. Ryuk reads the nameplates as he passes; he has no idea who most of them are.

His staccato knock on 309’s door is answered by silence, then sudden thumping, shuffling, and FeeTwix calling out, “One minute!” More than a minute goes by before the door swings open and the Swede greets him, a fluffy white hotel towel clutched around his waist. He looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backward, rode hard, and put up wet.

“Ryuk! Shit! Um ...” FeeTwix double checks his towel to make sure he has adequately covered his digital junk.

“Who is it?” An unexpectedly familiar female voice asks.

Dude!

FeeTwix shuts the door, harrumphs, and steps into the hallway. “It’s not what it looks like … well, okay, it is what it looks like, but dammit Ryuk, I couldn’t resist!”

“Did you … um … video it?”

FeeTwix’s eyes are currently sky blue, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t black holes just a few minutes ago.

“Pfft! Are you kidding me? Of course I didn’t!”

Ryuk exhales audibly.

“I don’t see the big problem here.”

The door opens wide, but no one stands in the doorway. FeeTwix’s blonde hair ruffles seemingly on its own. “Oh, behave!” he calls over his shoulder.

Ryuk switches to messaging.

Ryuk: You do realize that Thuleans mate for life with one partner exclusively, and you’ve become that one partner, don’t you? Further, most older Thuleans are very disapproving of interspecies couples. So you’ll run into trouble, and since we are a guild, we’ll run into trouble. Had I known that you were going to visit her last night, I would have done everything I could to convince you otherwise. You are like a cat playing with fire!

FeeTwix: A cat playing with fire?

Ryuk: It’s a Japanese saying.

FeeTwix: Never heard it put that way.

“Who is it, FeeTwix?” Zaena calls out again.

“It’s Ryuk.” FeeTwix loses his grip on the towel and catches it just in time.

“So what now?”

“What now?” FeeTwix laughs. “You’re taking this too seriously, Ryuk. Now, Zaena joins our guild and we kick the Shinigami’s asses together. Speaking of which, we really need to meet Hiccup soon.”

Join our guild?

“Have you already asked her if she’d like to join us? Thuleans are not really the guild-joining type. There was only one in my last guild, and that was only because of his friendship with our leader, Sophia.”

“Actually, Zaena asked me if it’d be cool if she joined us.” He lowers his voice. “But since you’re the guild leader, it’s really up to you.”

Ryuk considers this for a moment. Regardless of the social issues, a Thulean in the ranks would give them instant access to the Thulean language – important on the other two floating continents – plus they are effective fighters, even at lower levels.

Emphasize differences. How does one actually do that? That’s one of those pithy epigrams like celebrate diversity or eschew obfuscation. Two humans, a goblin, and a Thulean certainly have plenty of differences to emphasize, but what does it actually mean? How is it supposed to help?

A prompt appears:

Zaena Morozon would like to join your guild. Will you allow it?

Ryuk cuts his philosophical quandary short and says, “Sure, she can join.”

Zaena Morozon, Level 11 Brawler Assassin, has joined your guild!

“Thanks, bud!” FeeTwix hops forward and gives Ryuk a quick hug. “All right, we’ll get some clothes on and then we’ll meet you in the town square. Oh, and no worries on healing potions, I’ll stock up before we meet you. It should only take a second.”

“Got it.” Ryuk says. “You should drink half of one or something before you meet us; you look beat to hell.”

FeeTwix eyeballs his scrapes, scratches, bruises, and amative contusions. ‘Yeah, but I sure had fun doing it. I’ll definitely do that. I’ll save the other half for Hiccup. Who knows what sort of debauchery he got into last night!”

(0)__(0)

A murder of silver Sotlian love crows caw and shriek and snap their beaks as they perch in the canopies of the trees that line the main boulevard.

Several bakeries stand with their doors open to the morning, and the air is thick with the enticing aroma of fresh baked pastries. Bakers’ assistants weave in and out of the crowds, enticing passers-by with free samples and BOGO scrolls.

As he makes his way to the meeting point, Ryuk’s thoughts bounce between the last time he and Tamana fought together in the game and watching her surrealistic slow-motion death by subway train.

Maybe if he had convinced her to stay logged in for longer, things would have played out differently. Maybe she’d be alive and who knows, maybe they’d be having breakfast right about now. There was a Cafe Colorado between their homes in Tokyo. A little cluttered, but nice. Maybe they’d be there now if she was still alive.

Emphasize differences. Ryuk is pretty sure Hajime’s pithy little oblique card simply means to know one’s enemy, even if the humandroid tries to make it sound like some deep philosophical insight or something. Then again, it could mean anything and maybe that is the implicit meaning – any situation applies.

The clock tower bell announces that it is indeed the Hour of the Morning Fire, and as it sounds, the love crows explode into the air, wheel, turn, and form ever-shifting Rorschach patterns of hidden deeper meanings.

Ryuk checks their group finances and discovers that the guild bank account is nearing rock bottom. Even with the cut that Hiccup stole, they should still be a couple thousand rupees up.

He kicks an acorn that has fallen from one of the trees in the square. I need to speak to a guild banker about putting authorized user controls on the guild’s funds.

He crunches the next acorn he sees and grinds it under his heel.

As he waits, Ryuk watches an NPC carriage driver have a one-sided argument with a magnificent white Clydesdale. The driver scolds the stubborn draft-horse to no avail. He pleads, cajoles and shakes his finger at the creature’s snout, tugs on the horse’s reins.

The impassive mountain of muscle snorts, tosses his head and refuses to budge. At least I’m not the only one with problems, Ryuk finds himself thinking, then he feels stupid for even thinking something so petty.

His hands in his pockets, he rocks back and forth on his heels, watching a particular cloud take shape that reminds him of Softbank’s curved equal sign logo. A prompt appears, asking him if he’d like to know more about SoftBank Quickstream InstaInvest Services.

Ryuk selects no and the ad flutters away.

Real world advertising is banned in some cities in the three floating continents of Tritania, but not all of them. The adverts target the average consumer rather than specific individuals, and they are much worse around major shopping hubs.

The only thing good about the advertising is that sometimes the corporate sponsors pay to have custom quests that offer exclusive, heavily logoed items as rewards.

Once, Ryuk completed a Jolt Cola sponsored quest that awarded him a pair of nunchucks that flashed the Jolt Cola logo and loudly announced ‘JOLT’ every time they connected with an enemy. He always felt like an unpaid corporate shill and would have scrapped the chucks, but they gave him 35% more attack power than whatever enemy he was up against. The chucks were, in three words, blatant yet badass.

A tap on his shoulder and Ryuk spins around with his slingshot aimed at the ready. He didn’t get a marble in the slingshot’s pouch, but it’s the thought that counts.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come from that direction,” he says as he lowers his ammo-less weapon. Something taps Ryuk’s right cheek. He’s just about to tell Zaena to keep her ghost limbs to herself when FeeTwix produces a canvas carrier bag.

“I got healing potions out the wazoo, all delivered to the hotel room, by the way, so we could get here in time. Call me fantasy Festivus Phil. Wait, do Japanese people celebrate Chrismahanukwanzivus?” He grins.

“Not in the way you think.”

“That reminds me, you don’t need any sort of marbles, do you?”

“They are unlimited. When I get a new marble, I also get a new pouch on my belt. As I’ve said before – well, I think I told you – my only limitation is my weapon.”

FeeTwix’s eyes turn blue. “Those will soon be problems of the past. The fan who’s making your marble gun messaged me, and she promises to have a working version by the end of the day, maybe sooner. She’s charging us for it, but I’ll pay her out of the royalties I’ll make for today’s advertisements. So no worries there; just expect just a bit more selling than normal.”

“You’re such a cutie.” Zaena pulls FeeTwix to her and kisses him. FeeTwix shoots Ryuk a thumb’s up mid-kiss.

“Another thing,” FeeTwix says, post-kiss, “well, just show him.”

Zaena smiles and her cheeks lift, raising the tips of her pointed ears through her orange mop of hair. She holds her hand out at Ryuk and drops her wrist, revealing an odd ring shaped like a wilted flower.

He gasps. “You’re engaged?”

FeeTwix’s eyes flash from black to blue. “What?! No! That’s not what that is.”

Zaena glances sharply from FeeTwix back to Ryuk. “It’s a Sotlian Pocket Sauna.” She touches the tip of the wilted flower and a sparkling ring of blue energy takes shape above her hand. “Touching it will transport us to a rejuvenating sauna that will heal our hit points completely, if we stay for thirty minutes.”

“And how many times can you use it per day?”

“Once, so we should use it wisely.”

Hiccup approaches the three wearing a dark gray robe with a hood that obscures his face but does nothing to conceal his rather unique style of ambulation. “Over here!” FeeTwix shouts and waves.

“For fick’s sake, Twixy! Why not break out the marching band with sparklers and Mardi Gras floats, why dontcha? How about a sign that reads HICCUP THE FICKIN’ GOBLIN?” He lowers his voice as his eyes dart left and right. “It’s like this: there are a couple of big-ass, bad-tempered orcs looking for me, and I’d really really really like to get the hell out of Sotla before they find me. Y’know – what happens in Sotla stays in Sotla, right?”

FeeTwix laughs. “Babe, this is Hiccup, the third – and surliest – member of the Mitherfickers. Check out his mechanical arm. Cool, huh?”

“I’m the second member, I’m not surly, and never mind the arm!”

Zaena rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Seriously, we need to fickin’ leave now, as in right now, as in let’s go-go-GO!”

“Drink up, pal.” FeeTwix produces a half-finished healing potion. Hiccup’s fingers are tattered and crusted with dried blood; his nails are notable for their absence.

“What happened to your nails?” Ryuk asks.

“Lost them in a bet with an ink shadow. Can you believe that fickhole strung my nails on a necklace right in front of me? What kind of twisted sicko does that?” He chugs the potion and his nails re-form, but not as long and sharp as they used to be.

“I thought you were with some orc … um, entertainers or something,” Ryuk says.

“Look kid, one day when your balls drop, you’ll understand that sometimes a goblin’s gotta do what a goblin’s gotta do, and that when an opportunity presents itself, you go with it. After all, what’s life if it isn’t about losing stupid, painful bets and ending up in an orc’s den handcuffed and pony-pegged by a leather-clad slag while your chalupa is clamped in a bench vise?”

Ryuk gives him a confused look.

“Ha! Kidding, I’m kidding, that’s not what happened last night. Well, not all of it. Well, some of it. Actually most of that happened but that’s not important now. Um … ” He takes a deep breath. “Where was I?”

“Say hi to your fans,” FeeTwix says, his eyes suddenly black.

“Fans?”

FeeTwix taps his temple.

“Crap, early onset Goblinheimer’s is no joke, believe you me. Look, kiddos, as much as I’d love to fill you in on all the juicy details of last night, we really need to get out of town now. Like really. Seriously. Let’s go now. And Twixy, tell your fans to go fick themselves.”

Ryuk narrows his eyes at the goblin. “You spent all the rupees that you stole from our guild last night, didn’t you?”

“This isn’t the time to be talking about guild finances!”

Ryuk remains impassive, arms crossed across his chest.

Hiccup huffs and sighs. “But if we must … in short, yes, I spent all the money, but actually I spent much more than that, much, much more, and unless the Mitherfickers want to be responsible for covering my losses, we need to get the fick out of Sotla and never return.”

Zaena shoots FeeTwix a look of doubt and he shrugs.

“So sure, I spent all the rupees, but I’m also saving us a lot of rupees by having us leave right now. So in a way, we’ve come out ahead.”

Ryuk notices a trio of broad-shouldered, grim-visaged, armed and armored orc warriors moving steadily in their direction. One of them turns and calls for other orcs to join the hunt.

Ryuk sighs. “All right, we’d better go. Where to? Hills of Hillshire again?”

Zaena shakes her head. “The Jatla Forest, where I encountered the Shinigami. I was prompted to take a quest, but I was running solo and so I decided not to. There’s supposedly treasure in an abandoned ninja temple in the forest, and considering we have how much in our guild coffers … ”

“There he is!” One of the orcs calls out. As the orcs charge, the four Mitherfickers select a new spawning point and dematerialize just in time to avoid the attack.

(0)__(x)

“For the record,” Hiccup says as they take shape on the outskirts of the Jatla Forest, “I would have doubled our rupees, doubled, if that damn ink shadow hadn’t cheated me, just like the other one back at the cathedral. The dirty, stinking, lowdown cheating racist fickers; I swear they have it out for us goblins.”

Ryuk ignores Hiccup as he scans the forest, looking for any trace of magic. There isn’t any, but some of the trees have been uprooted and trampled. “So this is where you encountered the Shinigami?” he asks Zaena.

“It is, in the clearing over there.” She uses one of her ghost limbs to turn Ryuk’s chin toward the clearing. He notices this time that his skin prickles when she touches him; there’s something almost electric about it.

“Let’s check it out,” FeeTwix says.

There are no overt signs of battle in the clearing, but the uprooted trees are mature specimens, and whatever’s smashed them aside is by no means little.

“This is the spot where I spawned out of here,” she explains, “and not a moment too soon. Careful of that hole in the ground, goblin.”

“The name is Hiccup, and I believe we haven’t met yet and seriously, Twixy, who the fick is the Thulean and why is she with us? Whatever happened to extreme vetting? Sure, I should have asked earlier, but my attention was otherwise focused, orc-wise.”

Her nostrils flare as her orange slit eyes settle on the goblin. “Chain duchitekcha.”

“Dolakh charnekh slumdokh motikh,” Hiccup snorts.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “You speak Thulean!”

“Better than you, probably. You think just because I’m a goblin, I’m nothing but a low-life, lamebrain, ass-scratching, booger-eating moron with indifferent personal hygiene?” he says, as he scratches his ass.

“Well … yes – you’re a goblin,” She shakes off her surprise. “However, call me a lazy animal in heat again at your own peril.”

Hiccup rolls his eyes. “Pfft! Big scary Thulean gonna be my future murderer, eh? I’ve stepped on bigger lizards than you … Ha! Liz! Now there’s a nickname I can get behind!”

They lock eyes – and she looks away first.

Ryuk and FeeTwix exchange looks – there’s more to their goblin compadre than is readily apparent at first glance.

Movement in the forest; Ryuk is the first with his weapon up.

A bear the size of an aeros minivan tears out of the shrubbery. A thick leathery shell covers its back, with bands of yellow, orange and light brown. The armor extends up the creature’s neck and forms a series of sharp spikes around its eyes and forehead. The creature roars; the birds in the trees startle and scatter into panicked flight.

Bearadillo Level 15

HP: 412/412

ATK: 124

DEF: 267

MATK: 0

MDF: 293

LUCK: 2

Ryuk zips two knife marbles and the bearadillo’s carapace shrugs them off like raindrops. Up next, Zaena flings her two short swords into the air and charges the mahoosive creature. She snags the swords with her ghost limbs, leaps and drives them against the bearadillo’s hardened shell.

Her swords skid off without penetrating, and she narrowly avoids a slashing counterblow from the creature’s claws.

A prompt appears before FeeTwix and he swipes it away:

“Really guys?” he asks the clouds. A wheelchair takes shape in front of him and he grabs the handles.

“Oh no!” FeeTwix yells and points behind Hiccup, “Ghosts!”

“Where?” The plasmophobic goblin shrieks and whirls to look where FeeTwix points. “Oh no, oh fick no!”

FeeTwix charges his distracted guildmate, scoops him up in the wheelchair and sprints past the bearadillo while Hiccup shrieks like a lunch whistle.

The massive armored omnivore focuses on noise and motion, turns and lumbers after its noisy rolling snack. As it picks up speed, it gets its armored tail up for added stability, giving Ryuk the chance to sling an explosive surprise right into its exposed anus.

-123 HP!

New skill learned!

Skill: Cherry Poppin’ Daddy

Level One: 1 in 11 chance of connecting. Enemy’s backside must be exposed. Higher levels increase damage and chance for an instakill.

Damage: 35% if enemy is less than level 30; 13% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 13%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 7

The bearadillo’s front feet skid out from under it; it howls in pain and whirls to face the source of its torment. Zaena uses her ghost limbs like invisible stilts to increase her speed, and with swords out, hurls herself at the creature. The enraged beast rears up and smashes her out of the air; she plows into the underbrush in an uncontrolled cartwheel.

“Oh SHIT! Zaena!” FeeTwix shouts. Double-bladed sword in hand, he turns to face the creature.

From out of nowhere, Hiccup races in, swings a double-bitted war axe into the bearadillo’s butt wound and barely avoids the armored predator’s answering mule-kick.

-38 HP!

“Attack the hole in its ass!” Hiccup equips a plumbata, runs back in and heaves the oversized dart at the bearadillo’s vulnerable spot. Another direct hit and the creature shrieks in agony.

-36 HP!

“Attack its ass! Attack its ass!”

FeeTwix: His underside is vulnerable too!

Ryuk: But we can’t get under there …

FeeTwix: Fire as many explosive marbles as you can at his feet. Maybe we can flip it!

Ryuk responds with four black marbles, the most he’s ever loaded in his magic slingshot at a single time. He feels the slingshot’s handle warm up as he pulls back on the pouch. Aiming just in front of the bearadillo’s oversized paws, he pulls back a teensy bit further and sends the four marbles on their way.

The slingshot is suddenly too hot to the touch, and he drops it just as the marbles explode.

-23 HP!

The bearadillo falls to its side and FeeTwix descends upon the creature with his double-bladed sword. He stabs it repeatedly where its heart should be; with a running leap, Hiccup brings his axe down hard on the creature’s soft underbelly.

The beast roars and thrashes.

Zaena limps in to get some of her own back. The work is grim, and in a final welter of guts and blood, the monster expires. Zaena instantly levels up, and the guild is awarded a measly thirty-one rupees.

“I hate these things,” Hiccup says, “they’re mean, ugly, vicious, and really, really hard to kill. Cheap fickers too.”

(x)__(x)

FeeTwix mops the perspiration from his eyes.

“I was hoping the big bastard had at least a hundred rupees in him. Everyone good on health?” He breathes heavily as a mirror appears in his hand. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the ships at sea! If you’re viewing our live feed from anywhere in the fifty-three states or are watching the recorded version any time in the next twenty-four hours from now, CVSgreens is having a flash sale on all Katy Kat Covergirl cosmetics. Just mention ‘FeeTwixRox’ at the point of purchase to take advantage of the savings! Terms and conditions do apply. See physical store or check online for details.”

FeeTwix vamooses the mirror and his eyes turn blue. “Sorry guys, I told you I had to double up on ads today to pay for Ryuk’s new gun,” he says, still catching his breath.

Ryuk approaches his slingshot and picks it up. The weapon is cool to the touch again.

“Before we move on, we should probably take the bearadillo’s hide.” A stag-handled Bowie knife appears in Hiccup’s paw. “A little help then, Liz?”

She gives him the stink-eye, and manifests two curved swords in her ghost limbs. She now holds four weapons, two floating above her head. “I don’t normally skin animals.”

“Well, I don’t normally find myself kicking ass and taking names at the Hour of the Morning Bear – Ha! Morning Bear – but this bear ain’t gonna skin itself this morning, so let’s get stuck in, princess.”

Her eyes narrow on him. “What did you call me,” she hisses.

“Princess. That not do you? How about Queenie then?”

“Relax,” FeeTwix tells her, “he’s just being Hiccup.”

Hiccup approaches the bearadillo, and starts to cut from the gaping wound under its tail and around the juncture of underbelly and armored carapace. “We can definitely sell this shit.” He pauses for a moment and leaves the blade stuck in the creature’s carcass as he turns to FeeTwix and pokes a bloody metallic finger in his chest. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“What’s that?” FeeTwix asks.

“Give me the head’s up next time you decide use me as part of your little attack strategy. I could have equipped a boar spear and we could have skewered the big ficker together, but no, you decided to make me bearadillo bait. How ‘bout some communication, huh? Maybe get that teamwork thing going?”

“Sorry,” FeeTwix says, not sounding sorry at all. “There wasn’t time to discuss it with you, and you wouldn’t have gone for it anyway.”

“That’s true, but you should ask anyway.”

Ryuk interrupts them. “What’s that?” Hanging in the trees about twenty meters away is a crudely made coffin suspended by a chain.

“Forest ninjas hang their deceased from trees,” Zaena explains. “It’s a pretty good indication that their temple is that way.”

“Why is it rimmed in magic?” Ryuk asks.

“Magic?” Hiccup sighs. “What are you going on about, Marbles?”

“Your magical sensitivity is increasing, isn’t it?” Zaena asks.

“It’s nothing. Just started last night, actually.”

“I don’t have any talent for magic but my brother does. We had the same tutor so I got to learn quite a bit about Tritanian magic,” the Thulean explains.

“Same tutor, huh?” Hiccup grumbles as he cuts into the bearadillo. “Sounds like we have a one-percenter over here, am I right, fellas?”

Zaena ignores him as she asks, “What color is the magic?”

Ryuk focuses again on the hanging coffin. The magic surrounding it is just barely visible. It moves ever-so-slightly and ripples every few seconds as it does so. “Dark blue at the tips.”

Skill level up!

Skill: Magic Eye

Level Three: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. A yellow outline signals that an object is enchanted. A dark blue outline signals that necrotic magic is being used.

Requirements: Level 5 Mage, LUCK > 5.

“Dark magic,” she says at the same time he gets the prompt, “but not regular dark magic, necrotic dark magic.”

“So that means what, exactly?” FeeTwix asks.

Zaena continues as if she hadn’t heard him, “I really don’t know much about the forest ninjas of Hyperborea. From what I do know, I can tell you that most of them are related to the Bo people who live in the mountain ranges of Ultima Thule. They hang their coffins from the sides of cliffs. It’s a sight to behold!”

“I’ve seen it,” Ryuk says, “but only briefly.”

“What’s this about necrotic magic?” the Swede asks.

“Zombies, Twixy. That’s what she’s a-saying.” Hiccup retrieves his big knife and works at separating the bearadillo from its armored hide. “There’s a zombie in there and we’ll trigger it if we get too close, if we haven’t already. They’re slow and stupid, but enough of ‘em can swarm you and then the comedy is over. They’ll probably eat you first, Marbles, as you’re the weakest.”

Ryuk glares at the garrulous goblin.

“So we’d better turn back.” Hiccup gathers a handful of forest floor litter and vigorously wipes his hands. “I have an idea, let’s go back to Jatla, sell the hide and the tusks I picked up yesterday, and quintuple our funds at a ponytail race! Then we can just buy some levels, or at the very least, enough armor and weapons that our levels won’t matter.”

FeeTwix clears his throat. “I’ve spent considerable time in a world called Dead City; anti-zombie operations have sort of become a specialty of mine.”

He grins as a very large rifle of parkerized steel and graphite composites with a BORS Telescopic sight appears. “This is my M-98 Widow. There are many like it, but this one is mine,” he says as he locks the bipod into position. “It’s heavy – thirty-nine kilos – but with the depleted pelosium ammo I scored, this weapon will inflict 1900 damage to armored foes. I don’t know what that translates to here in Tritania, but I’m pretty sure it’ll kill the hell out of zombies.”

Zaena steps back. “An alien weapon?” She uneasily eyes the rifle.

FeeTwix gets in the prone position, powers up the optics and has a quick look-see. “Unless Ryuk thinks he can take the coffin out from here with his slingshot, this is the way forward.”

“You’ll take HP damage,” Ryuk says.

“That’s what we have healing potions for. Now hush children, and let daddy work.” FeeTwix focuses on the target, breathes in, lets half out, and with a slow squeeze of the trigger blasts the coffin into toothpicks and matchsticks.

Instakill!

The Mitherfickers are each awarded EXP. FeeTwix’s life bar takes a sting to the tune of fifty-five HP and his form flashes red. “I see another one.” He adjusts his scope, takes a breath and lets half out, and sends another armor-piercing harbinger of unhappiness downrange.

Instakill!

More EXP, fifty-five more points of damage to his HP. A healing potion appears in his hand and he takes a swig from it.

Hiccup’s eyes light up. “Finally he gets out the good stuff! How about a little snort for your old goblin pal?”

Ambivalent about FeeTwix using firearms, Zaena turns away from the shooting.

“We have to conserve healing potions,” FeeTwix reminds the goblin as he scans the forest.

“Ah, come on, just a taste!”

“Later. Damn there are a lot of trees. I don’t think I’ll be able to get them all.”

“Those are their ancestors,” Zaena finally says. “We should respect them.”

Hiccup snorts. “Huh – I respect the living fick out of them, as long as they don’t try to nosh on my ass. But this – this is a bad idea and just makes them focus on us. What we should focus on is sharing our healing potions.”

“Don’t worry,” FeeTwix tells her, “this will save us time later on.”

“Not if it attracts other enemies.”

Ryuk keeps his eyes on the forest, and has two knife marbles staged and ready to go. Having been a Ninja Warrior before he became a Ballistics Mage, he is keenly aware of the creeping abilities of the subclass.

Suddenly, his field of vision constricts and he sees a pair of shadowy silhouettes in the middle distance. His focus is so intense that the guildmates’ bantering has receded to a distant buzz.

He receives the notification of a new skill.

New skill learned!

Skill: Extreme Focus

Level One: Can detect approach of camouflaged/concealed/stealthed enemies and objects.

Mage bonus: Higher levels allow sleuthing and increased accuracy. Also increases magic detection range when used in tandem with Magic Eye.

Requirements: LUCK > 3

I was never able to sense magic when I was a ninja, Ryuk thinks. Before he reset, his skill was up to level fifty and he could sense enemies from nearly a kilometer away. He could also instantly detect residual traces of enemies, even if the enemy hadn’t been there for some time.

There they are.

Ryuk drops down next to FeeTwix and whispers in his ear, “There’s two of them, about three hundred meters out, just to the left of that big tree that’s bent at the top like a crescent moon.”

“I see the big tree. Where to the left of it?”

“One, two, three trees over. About half way up, crouched on a branch.”

“Roger.”

Instakill!

The ultra-high velocity depleted pelosium slug blasts the first ninja to rags and tatters; his buddy beats a strategic retreat and disappears ninja style.

“If they didn’t before, the forest ninjas definitely know we’re here now,” Ryuk observes.

“I could have told you that.” Hiccup cleans his blades with a rag he’s produced from somewhere, inspects the results and sends the knives back to inventory.

“Let’s wrap this up.” Ryuk makes the lassoing gesture with his hand. “They’ll be back in force.”

FeeTwix is up to his feet again and his weapon is gone. His eyes flash black. “Hey everyone! Sorry for the bailing there for a moment, but we were discussing some important guild matters. And hey! Good news for our compadres in Bee-yoo-tee-ful May-hee-co City! This week only, P.F. Chang’s has an exclusive dinner special for fans of this feed. Mention FeeTwix es mi amigo to your waiter to receive half off on selected chicken and seafood entrees!”

Zaena gives him an uncertain smile. “You will need to explain to me what it is you do in your world some time.” She takes the lead, her two main swords are sheathed on either side of her body.

As they walk, FeeTwix equips his slice bang and places it in a sheath that has formed across his back. A Glock 31 appears in his hand and he holsters it at his side.

“Where did you get the idea of using alien weapons?” Zaena asks.

“The same place as anyone who is going around with a big inventory list got the idea – Quantum Hughes.”

The Thulean stops dead in her tracks and whirls to face him. “Did you say Quantum Hughes?”

“No he said Phantom Poos.” Hiccup chuckles at his own jocular wordplay. “Or Ransom Screws.”

“Taktach dola genkha moornikh duchaka.”

Hiccup scoffs. “Jokes are a good way to die, huh? No, you got that wrong, Lizzy – death is easy, comedy is hard. Chokes are a good way to die!” He laughs at his own bad joke until Ryuk shushes him.

“To return to the topic at hand – we Thuleans despise Quantum Hughes.” Zaena uses her ghost limbs to prevent some over-leaning tree branches from scraping the tops of their heads. Well, FeeTwix and Ryuk’s heads; Hiccup is too short.

“Really?” FeeTwix looks to her. “Why’s that?”

“Hughes cheated and slew Queen Renata in the Saiduka Giant’s tournament almost twenty years ago. He used forbidden weapons, alien weapons, weapons like yours.”

“Didn’t the firearm penalty get him?” FeeTwix asks.

“He had some bright orange tabard decorated with a terrible bird of prey that negated the damage penalty, the moonae rushikhcha bastard cheater.”

“A kitten strangler?” Hiccup snorts. “I’ll have to use that one!”

A mirror appears in FeeTwix’s hand and he gives it his most endearing smile. “Shout-out to all Fans o’ FeeTwix and all of you Tritania players and Tritanian historians: if you can get me one of these orange vests, I’ll make it well worth your while, in game and in the RW. One of these vests would keep me from constantly having to chug healing potions.”

“Nothing wrong with constantly chugging healing potions. Speaking of which … ” Hiccup holds out his grubby, befouled fingers.

“Later,” FeeTwix assures him.

“That’s what you take from this story, that you need one of those cheating cheater’s cheat vests and not that he cheated?” Zaena’s face hardens.

FeeTwix shrugs and his eyes flash blue. “Really, babe, I’m just being practical here. I deliberately chose this class just so I can use the weapons I’ve gathered from other places. One of those vests would be really helpful.”

“You won’t get one,” Ryuk tells him. “There are only two in existence and one of them is at the Knights’ guild headquarters in Valhalla.”

“Then we’ll go there.”

“It’s not that simple – you have to be a member to get in.”

“You were a member,” FeeTwix reminds him.

“But now I’m not; now I’m a resetter. The Knights have strict rules about this.”

A tomahawk with a leather tassel hanging from its handle appears in Hiccup’s hand. “Enemies nearby,” he inhales deeply, “and treasure – lots and lots of treasure!”

Zaena draws her swords; FeeTwix draws his double-bladed sword.

Ryuk takes a step back, takes a deep breath and Extreme Focus constricts his viewing pane into tunnel vision mode.

Off to his left, he sees a few nearly invisible wavelengths radiating off one of the trampled branches. His tunnel vision zooms forward until it is as if he’s now examining things at the molecular level. His tunnel vision snaps back into normal viewing; a targeting reticle appears over shadowy silhouette outlined in flashing red.

He reaches into the pouch containing the knife marbles and the targeting reticle adjusts for hold-over. He loads the marble, draws, aims …

The flying knife takes the forest ninja right in the eye.

Instakill!

Chapter 13: Breakfast in the sky

Kodai disengages from his haptic chair, stands and looks out over the city.

His view, facing southeast towards Tokyo Bay and the Imperial Garden, is something he’s enjoyed ever since he moved into his current place. The view makes him feel larger than life, like he’s in charge of the entire country. It doesn’t quite beat the view he once had of Central Park, but it is equally stunning.

He steps to his walk-in closet, and selects his favorite black Kiton suit, which is freshly pressed and lightly scented with the floral fabric freshener the dry cleaner uses. With his thin black tie precisely knotted, he slips into the suit jacket and returns to the genkan, where he exchanges his house shoes for a pair of bespoke Italian leather shoes. From there, it’s to the coat rack where he dons a Kenzo parka that one of his personal shoppers purchased at the Opening Ceremony store in Harajuku.

Outside the front door to his penthouse, Gorira – the biggest escort that he employs – impassively awaits him.

No words pass between them as they walk to the elevator. They descend thirty floors, the doors open and they step into an immaculate lobby of polished marble, imported wood, and a single, decades-old bonsai tree that is lovingly maintained by an expert from the Omiya Bonsai Art Museum.

Two additional escorts join Gorira and the three accompany Kodai to an aerosSUV parked out front. Once he’s in the back, and has adjusted the heater to his liking, the vehicle lifts into its appropriate skylane.

Silence permeates the ten minutes or so that it takes to get from Shinjuku to Shinagawa, MercSecure’s Asia headquarters.

The American private security company’s new building is directly south of the JR Shinagawa Station and is connected to the station by a series of high pedestrian bridges. Outdoor escalators drop from the pedestrian bridge to lower platforms full of eateries, kissaten coffee bars, and designer clothing shops.

Japanese citizens, most clad in the darker clothes associated with business in Japan, weave in and out of the crowds coming from and going to the busy station, all focused on arriving at their destination on time.

As their vehicle lands, Kodai’s attention shifts from the bustling crowd to a white awning on top of the MercSecure tower. He receives a message from Lorem Ipsum, the executive manager of MercSecure Asia.

Lorem Ipsum: I hope you’re hungry.

Kodai doesn’t respond.

It was his late father who taught him of the power of silence at a business meeting. Other than a brief, professional greeting, little else is said as his security detail is met by their MercSecure counterparts. An older MercSecure team member with white hair catches Kodai’s eye. There’s something mechanical about his movement, which leads him to believe that the MercSecure agent may be a humandroid or a cyborg. As a general rule, humandroids aren’t manufactured to look old, so he assumes the latter.

Lorem Ipsum stands as Kodai approaches. Lorem is a big man, with dark eyebrows and light brown eyes. He’s in an Armani suit with an American flag pin on the lapel, and his thick blue tie sports a perfect Windsor knot.

“Glad you could make it for breakfast,” Lorem says with a slight bow. He offers Kodai a seat at the table. “I know, having it out here is bit of a security risk, but it was such a nice morning – cold, but nice – that I thought, hey, let’s go for it. You aren’t too cold are you? I have heaters ready if you are.”

“I’m fine.”

MercSecure’s men take their security posts around the white awning. Kodai’s guys hold back, ready if need be.

“Relax,” Lorem says, “we have the surrounding rooftops staked out too. Just think of this as one of the many things we can do. We are, after all, in the business of protecting people in any environment, and I do mean any.”

A waitress of singular beauty approaches the table bearing a covered silver platter. She places it in front of him and lifts its cover before he can figure out where he recognizes her from. He glances down at the plate. A perfectly-shaped omelet with a bit of garnish – his typical breakfast.

Another silver platter is placed in front of Lorem. The lid comes up to reveal a T-bone steak and a single egg, sunny side up with a dash of pepper on top. “Bon appetit.” Lorem slices into the steak, and a puddle of red liquid forms on his plate.

“You must really enjoy the Japanese winter to have your breakfast outside,” Kodai observes.

Lorem chews, swallows, and says, “It’s fine, aside from the constant drizzle that never seems to freeze. I was in Bogata before this and weather aside, it’s a lot nicer here. So yes, I’m really enjoying it.”

Kodai cuts into his omelet and notes the gentle ooze of melted cheddar cheese. The American company MercSecure and their parent company, ExEx, are the best in the business at gathering and collating data, as well as all aspects of private security and non-governmental military operations. Kodai reflects on this as the same lovely waitress from earlier pours him coffee and adds a single creamer to it.

“Thank you,” he says, first in Japanese then English. He returns his focus to Lorem Ipsum. “Why are meeting here on the rooftop? I assumed we’d meet inside.”

Lorem finishes chewing his steak. He wipes his mouth with his linen napkin, returns it to his lap and says, “I told you, fresh air, nice morning.”

“Open a window. That’s what most people do for fresh air.”

“The windows don’t open on the fifty-second floor.”

“Hon tarareta.”

“Yes,” Ipsum says with a smile, “touché.”

“Ah, so that is the English translation. I thought it would be something along the lines of, ‘you got me there.’”

“We use a French fencing term for that: touché.”

“Good to know.”

Both men finish their breakfasts in relative silence. Once Lorem has finished his steak and egg, the big man pushes back from the table and crosses one leg over another. “Is this about Hajime?”

Kodai glances left and right at the MercSecure men at the four points of the awning. His eyes stay on the cyborg a moment longer than the others. “No,” he finally says, “this isn’t about Hajime.”

“How is he performing?”

Instead of an answer Kodai says, “There is actually one thing I’d like to discuss with you, and it is reason I’ve asked to meet with you today.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like another one, another Hajime.”

Lorem wipes his mouth with a linen napkin and says, “Not to be rude, but I don’t normally deal with the day-to-day operations of leasing humandroids.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“However, your group was one of our first clients, and seeing how this is the case, I’ll gladly discuss humandroid leasing with you.”

“Good.”

“Hajime was a prototype, a working prototype, and the only one of his kind. He was designed by the Dr. Hewman, before Hewman’s tragic death. His reasoning capabilities were heightened to their maximum setting. Once Walliburton received the modified humandroid from Dr. Hewman, they tried to adjust the reasoning controls and were unable to do so.”

“Yet MercSecure still bought him from Walliburton?”

“We did. Our founder believes that there is much to learn about humandroid reasoning and Hajime passed all the field tests, even the most strenuous.”

Kodai nods. “Then what can you offer me of a similar nature?”

“Male or female?”

“Are they equally strong?”

Lorem Ipsum smiles.

“That’s a very common question, actually. Humandroids don’t share the same physical disparities as humans. The newest female and male models are equally strong. It will, however take some time to put a complete custom order in with Walliburton and finalize their training at our facilities in California. Combat and security detail humandroids do come preloaded with software, and the software is very good, but we like to field test them before they are distributed.”

“How long are we talking about for a custom model?”

“For a custom one, several months. For one our models that have already been trained, two days top. Their software will be tweaked and after updates are made, they’ll be on the next plane to Tokyo. However, these aren’t as customizable, aside from their appearances.”

Kodai considers this for a moment. “I see. Is there any disadvantage of going with a pre-made model?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good, go ahead and put the order in for a model that is already available. I’d like one quickly, preferably a female.”

Lorem Ipsum takes a sip from his coffee. “Consider it done.”

A prompt on Kodai’s iNet screen gives him the leasing cost and various leasing and indemnity documents for him to peruse. After he has skimmed through everything, his own bank details appear in a prompt directly over the leasing document. He accepts the charges and the credit is instantly transferred.

“Also, I’ll need a humstunner. Isn’t that what you Americans call it?”

“That or a humgun, yes.”

Another prompt; more credit is transferred.

“Wonderful,” Lorem Ipsum clasps his fingers together. “Your humandroid should be available within two days, maybe less. In the meantime, if you require added protection, may I suggest an agent recently assigned to the Asian circuit. Walt?”

The older cyborg steps away from his post and approaches the table.

Kodai examines the agent for a moment. He’s fit, with a scarred, grizzled face. The mercenary offers Lorem a small bow. “A pleasure to meet you,” he says in passable Japanese.

“I’ll let you know if I need any additional security.”

“Please do,” Lorem says as he extends his hand to Kodai, “and tell your mother that I said hello.”

(0)__(0)

It is Lorem Ipsum’s last comment that has Kodai brooding as his aerosSUV lifts into the air. Even though the windows are tinted, he offers Lorem Ipsum another tight smile. The fucker. To be sure, it his MercSecure’s job to know a person’s pressure points, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

“Has Sarah arrived yet?” he asks Gorira, who sits in the front passenger seat of the vehicle.

“She’s there now, in the lobby.”

“Have her brought up to my apartment. Keep someone with her so she doesn’t touch anything.”

“You got it, boss.”

With his eyes closed, his eyelids come alive with various things he’s monitoring over iNet.

Two of his pink salons in Harmonica Yokocho had lower than normal profits last week. He’ll need to take a look into this, and he’ll also need to take a look into a soapland named Hinomaru that he runs in Yokohama. The manager, a hapless idiot nicknamed Meosa, was hired as a favor to an earlier investor in the establishment. Now that profits have stabilized, it’d be better if Meosa simply disappeared.

Then there’s the oppai pub in Tachikawa that caters to American military personnel stationed at Fussa Air Force Base. This is a cash cow for sure, but the Americans can be very destructive when they’re drunk. Case in point: an incident last night in which a minor scuffle involving a small group of airmen escalated into a full-blown bar brawl which spilled into the street and involved the civil police and American Security Forces.

The pub is trashed and will be closed for the next few days for repairs.

There are other business matters Kodai needs to attend to that don’t involve the sex industry, including a new shipment from Bangkok of designer intoxicants, known as pollutes, something that his organization will distribute to a few of his establishments later this week.

The pollute business has taken off over the last five years; still, the sex industry is a constant when it comes to profits and even with the turnover, it will continue to drive his family business until at least 2080, likely longer. Even with the advent of full immersion sex in various Proxima worlds – something the sex industry thought would lead to its demise – human on human contact still trumps anything that takes place simply in the mind.

Which is one of the reasons he’s invited Sarah the Australian over this morning.

“I need to visit Hinomaru later today,” he tells Gorira, “this evening, before the late night crowd arrives.”

“You got it, boss. Anything else?”

“Tachikawa. I’ll need to go there afterwards.”

“Got it.”

Time blips by and soon, his aerosSUV lowers into its appropriate skylane. It continues its descent to the street in front of his condo, in a cordoned off space at the building’s entrance.

There is a rooftop landing spot, but Kodai prefers the ground level entrance as it keeps him visible. After all, his family owns the entire complex, and he likes the residents to know that he is there and that they should feel safe, no matter the situation.

Several more of his men, each Mt. Fuji-sized, form a shield around him as he exits the vehicle.

They lead Kodai through the lobby, past an older female resident. No gawking, the woman keeps her eyes front and modestly lowered, as if to pretend that the owner isn’t passing. Kodai approves.

The Japanese, while curious, are a well-mannered society that generally don’t pry or inquire too closely into the business of others; very much unlike his experience in New York. Sure, people kept to themselves in the famed American metropolis, but if he had shown up in Manhattan with a security detail like he has now, people would have stopped, watched, and recorded. There were even signs in New York that encouraged this behavior – Stop, Watch, Record – an effort from the governor’s office in partnership with America’s Federal Corporate Government to lower crime.

Gorira enters and clears the elevator. He courteously holds the door as Kodai enters. The mammoth minder presses his finger on a keypad and the elevator samples his DNA. After it flashes green, a pleasant voice announces that they are cleared to proceed.

Again, they ride in silence as the elevator ascends to the thirtieth floor. Gorira steps out first and scans the entryway, then steps aside so Kodai may exit. He tells Gorira to wait a moment, and once he’s scanned his finger the front door of his penthouse clicks open.

“You may leave now,” he tells Sarah’s escort, who stands solemnly in the center of the room. The man bows and exits; Kodai waits until the door is completely shut before turning to Sarah.

“Let’s speak in English,” he tells her as he takes off his coat.

Sarah nervously adjusts her short velvet mini-skirt. She’s in a low cut top, the fabric of which barely restrains her more than ample breasts. Her high heels are neatly placed next to the door and she now stands in a pair of Doraemon house slippers.

“But I wanted to practice my Japanese,” she says, quickly regaining her confidence. This remains the one thing Kodai admires most about her – her confidence in the face of true power. “I was up pretty late last night, you know.” She winks at him, “Working for you. When did you leave?”

“A little after I met with my brother. Did you see him?”

She bites her lip as she thinks for a moment. “A bit of a scrawny guy, isn’t he? Black hair? Hoodie?”

“That’s him. We share the same hair color.”

She stifles a laugh.

Kodai unzips his jacket. “How very racist of you.”

“I don’t see many Japanese that don’t have black hair,” she says, “but yours is much better than his. That mop on his head makes him look like a bloody drongo. I prefer your style, clean cut, masculine.”

“It’s nice to be preferred.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Ryuk.” He stands silently for a moment, admiring her body.

“So, you called me over here … ”

“That I did.”

“It’s nice to, um, to see you.” She laughs nervously.

“I’m sure it is.” Kodai nods towards the couch. “Sit on the couch.”

“Okay.” Sarah quickly moves back over to the couch and straightens her mini-skirt before sitting down. Kodai takes a black armchair in front of her.

“So … ” She wipes a strand of hair out of her face and crosses her arms beneath her breasts.

“Spread your legs,” Kodai instructs.

“Um, okay.” She offers him a soft smile as she spreads her legs, showing him her light blue panties. “I wanted to wear black underwear,” she tells him, “but I thought this new set I picked up at Uniqlo looked cuter with this outfit. Not that I thought you’d see. Ha!”

“They are cute.”

She shifts her skirt up even further and shows him the front of the panties. “They have pictures of Betty Boop on them. Heard of her?”

“No, but I recognize the image. Lift the armrest.”

“Oh, this is one of those couches with armrests that lift, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

Sarah does as instructed. Her eyebrows raise as she takes in the content of the armrest. “What … what would you like me to wear?”

“I’d like you wear the choker collar.” Kodai unbuckles his pants.

“Um, yes, sure, anything you’d like.” She places a satin choker adorned with a heart-shaped gemstone around her neck. “Does this look about right?” Again, she regains her composure, as if all of this is exceedingly normal.

Kodai slips his pants off. “It looks perfect. Now I want you to touch yourself.”

She nervously moistens her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over there and touch you?”

“No,” he tells her as he pulls off his boxer briefs, “I want you to stay right where you are.”

Chapter 14: Cherry blossom ninjas

Ryuk checks his stats to find he has increased two levels through auto-leveling. While the ninjas in the Jatla Forest don’t carry many rupees, they are dishing out double experience points.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 7 Ballistics Mage

HP: 245/252

ATK: 69

MATK: 88

DEF: 50

MDF: 31

LUCK: 7

FeeTwix Fajer Level 11 Berserker Mystic

HP: 258/306

ATK: 84

MATK: 26

DEF: 59

MDF: 30

LUCK: 13

Hiccup Level 10 Shield Thief

HP: 363/425

ATK: 70

MATK: 13

DEF: 101

MDF: 48

LUCK: 9

Zaena Morozon Level 12 Brawler Assassin

HP: 279/357

ATK: 91

MATK: 8

DEF: 88

MDF: 24

LUCK: 14

The Mitherfickers – damn, he needs need a new name for their guild – are shaping up.

They are a little top heavy when it comes to physical attack power versus magic attack power, but this can prove beneficial. Ryuk isn’t a magic user in the traditional sense – he expends no mana. This is another reason Ballistics Mages are the least popular avatar to take. While they may have unlimited magical ammo, they can’t cast spells.

The weapon itself is also a handicap; Ryuk’s looked at the ‘upgraded’ slingshots available in Jatla and about the only upgrade available is a wrist brace. So, no magic in the traditional sense and a minimally effective weapon to wield – thus is the life of a lowly Ballistics Mage.

Once they rescue Tamana however, they’ll have a guild member who relies partially on magic. She can wield light-based attacks and she can also heal, which is a definite advantage given the speed with which two of his guildmates in particular rip through healing potions.

One more day to go.

An idea has been floating around in his head since they discovered signs of the Shinigami in the Jatla Forest. His idea may be the way forward, and it definitely falls within the parameters of emphasizing differences. The element of surprise is on his mind, and once the time is right, Ryuk will pitch his idea to his guildmates. For now, he keeps it to himself.

“Let’s all share a healing potion,” FeeTwix says, “We only have a couple left and there’s a good chance we’ll need it.”

The four stand at the base of a hillock, directly beneath a giant red Torii gate.

The water stained stone stairway shows the wear of generation upon generations of feet. Moss has grown over the banisters on either side of the stone stairway before them; fissures like veins have crumbled portions of the stairs into chunks, revealing the raw soil beneath. A thicket of bamboo covers at the top of the stairs, obscuring the entrance to the ninja temple.

“Fine,” says Hiccup, “me first.”

Hiccup snatches the glass bottle out of FeeTwix’s hand with more speed and alacrity than he usually displays, but before he can so much as uncork it, an invisible force snags it from him.

“Share,” Zaena reminds him. With her ghost limbs, she uncorks the healing potion and takes a sip without touching her mouth to the bottle.

“Ah, come on, Liz! That’s more than half … ”

She hands it to FeeTwix, who takes a healthy gulp.

“You can have my share,” Ryuk tells Hiccup.

The goblin leaps up and takes the bottle from FeeTwix’s hands. He stuffs it in his noise hole, sucks it down, and jams his tongue as far as he can into the bottle to lap up anything that’s left. “Good, but not great,” he says as he wipes his mouth with his mechanical arm. “Let’s kick some ninja ass, and get the hell out of here. I feel like we’re wasting valuable time in this forest. You said we had four healing potions left, right?”

“I did.” FeeTwix’s eyes are completely black. Just moments ago earlier, he announced that nearly 750,000 people were watching his livestream. He expects that number to rise as they enter the temple.

“How ‘bout letting Uncle Goblin keep two of them? You can focus on, um, killing and whatnot.” Hiccup nods up the stone stairway. “I predict there will be a fick-ton of ninjas up there, maybe even a fick-ton and a half, so it’d be better if all our healing stuff wasn’t concentrated on just one person. Hell, with a weakling like Marbles, you never know when one of us will have to run back and stick a bottle in his mouth. Trust me on this: you’ll want another compadre with a potion or two.”

“And this compadre should be you?” Zaena asks.

“Who else should it be? You’ll be too busy twirling swords to bother healing the rest of us.”

“Fair point.”

“So whaddaya say, Twixy, two potions?”

“Keep quiet,” Ryuk hisses.

The stone stairs are steep, at least six or seven flights, and they’ll likely get hit somewhere along their ascent. His dream armor has done a bang-up job so far of protecting him, but he’d still prefer to keep any adversaries at a distance. He moves a few steps in front of his guildmates to better his focus.

“Fine, fine!” FeeTwix waves his hands in defeat. “Have two potions, but do not drink them now.”

“Fick yeah!” Hiccup says loudly as he takes the potions. “You know, FeeTwix you ain’t such a bad guy after all. Now your new squeeze here … ”

“Charo tugtukh lopp.”

The goblin snorts. “She’s growing on me too – like a rash. Ha! I kid, I kid – even though she just called me a bloody fick stain. Another choice bit of Thulean I’ll have to use.”

“You liked that one?” Zaena smiles over to Hiccup.

“If you’re asking me if I give credit where credit is due, the answer is ‘yes’. Now we’d better be quiet because Marbles up there thinks we’re making too much noise.”

Zaena stifles a laugh.

Damn goblin.

FeeTwix joins Ryuk near the top of the steps. “We’ll need to head to a town after we loot the temple,” he says in a low voice. “I’ve noticed that the enemies are getting stronger.”

“That’s because they adjust their strength in relation to our level. The only way to combat this is to armor up. The enemy level gauge used by the Sage … ”

“The Sage?”

“Tritania’s AI,” Ryuk says, “the NVA Seed. The enemy’s levels are tied only to our physical levels, regardless of what we’ve equipped.”

“Sweet.” FeeTwix places a friendly hand on Ryuk’s shoulder. His eyes flash blue. “Did you see anything up there?”

“No, it’s extremely quiet, even with all the noise.” Behind him, Hiccup and Zaena are conversing in Thulean. He can’t tell if they are arguing or swapping Sotlan macaroon recipes – the guttural sound of Thulean makes everything sound aggressive.

“Let me take a look.” A portion of a mechanical skull takes shape in FeeTwix’s hand. The jaw bone is missing, as is the entire right side of the skull. The left eyehole is intact, and covered by a ruby red lens. “I keep meaning to get a strap added to this so I can at least wrap it around my head,” he says as he lifts the skull to his face, “but this will do.”

“What is it exactly?” Ryuk asks.

“A Reaper skull,” he says. “I picked it up in a world called Steam. It may be one of the rarest items I own. It allows me to see beyond the grid lines of the world. It does other things too, but that’s mostly what I use it for.” He holds the mask to his face and takes a slow look around.

Reapers? Ryuk considers this for a moment. He’s heard of the murder guild before – one cannot be in the Knights of Non Compos Mentis without hearing of the battles they waged with the Reapers – but he knows little about them or if they still even exist.

“Nice one, Yorick.” Hiccup remarks as he passes. “You look like a fickin’ Terminator’s migraine with that thing on, Twixy.”

“What alien device is this?” With her ghost limb, Zaena snags the partial skull from FeeTwix.

“Careful with that!”

She holds the mask to her face, gasps, and hands it back like it’s covered in flaming radioactive Thulean Ebola. “I’d … I’d rather not be reminded of what I am,” she says under her breath.

The phrase loops in Ryuk’s head for a moment: I’d rather not be reminded of what I am. If there were ever a quote to describe the way he feels about the real world …

Mask back in hand, FeeTwix finishes his scan for hostiles. “Nothing,” he shrugs, “no enemies lurking anywhere, and no booby traps either.”

“Regardless, everyone keep their weapons up,” Zaena says, “there are some things your alien attachments can’t sense.”

(0)__(0)

“Talk about anticlimactic.” Hiccup reaches the top of the stone stairs and stretches his arms over his head. About the only thing the Mitherfickers battled on their way to the top were a stubbed toe and Hiccup’s gaseous eructation that followed.

“I don’t know about you three, but I’m ready for a proper fried gob-brekky with a side of Yoshi McNuggets and a McStarbucks pumpkin spice half-caf soy latte, extra foam, and steamed to 130 degrees Fahrenheit thank-you-very-much. I didn’t have time to have a proper gob-nosh this morning.”

Zaena gives him a queasy look.

The devious goblin drums his fingers across his belly. “So what do you say we use the cashola from raiding this temple to have ourselves a fickin’ epic feast? I’m talking the works: meat, meat, meat, some dairy, and more meat. And ale. Dessert too – candied meat, if they have it.”

FeeTwix turns to Ryuk. “Seen a set up like this before?”

Ryuk nods. There’s a stone wash basin to the right of the entrance and an old donation box on the left.

Wrapping around the temple walls are a collection of short stone lanterns, known as tōrō, many of which have lost the integrity of their original forms. Ryuk has seen this type of thing a thousand times – one doesn’t have to look very far to find a similar temple in Japan.

The Swede pushes the wooden door open and the sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms wafts out. The pink, white, and red cherry blossoms swirl around the four, inviting them in.

“It’s so beautiful!” Zaena gasps.

With Ryuk at the rear, they enter the courtyard and trample through a pink blanket of blossoms. Another breeze picks up, lifting the blossoms and cartwheeling them towards one of the thatched buildings in the far corner of the courtyard.

Cherry blossoms – sakura in Japanese – are thought of as a perfect metaphor for life and death. They bloom for one week, fall from the trees, and are mercilessly tossed around in the wind until they are swept up and disposed of. Ryuk has never really thought of them this way, and seeing them in their digital form gives him no more pleasure than seeing them in person.

Besides, he’s much more focused on the giant stone statue of a warrior in the center of the courtyard.

A stereotypical Western appropriation of Asian iconography, to be sure, but Ryuk can’t help but feel intimidated by the ominous conical jigasa on the statue’s head; or the yellow magic that lightly skirts along the rim of the hat; or the angry Tengu mask on his face; or the two stone swords sheathed at its side.

Just to be on the safe side, he loads two knife marbles into pocket of his slingshot and scans the rooftops. “The statue is an enchanted object,” he tells everyone.

“Yellow magic?” Zaena asks.

He nods as cherry blossoms lift into the air as a light zephyr picks up.

The wind carries them to the four corners of the courtyard, depositing the petals along the interior walls of the temple. Oddly, none of the flowers come remotely close to the colossal warrior statue, which stands a good five meters tall.

FeeTwix snaps his wrist and the two blades on his sword shift to thirty-degree angles. His eyes have darkened again, black enough to reflect the whites of the flower petals floating in front of him. “What about a preemptive strike?” He asks. “Let’s take out the statue now, before the cavalry arrives.”

Zaena shakes her. “Not a good idea. Attacking the statue may bring it to life.” She spins left, her four swords up and ready. “I could have sworn I sensed something over there!”

Why are all of our senses fuzzy? Ryuk tries to use his Extreme Focus skill, but the sheer number of cherry blossoms now spinning all around him block his ability to see.

Out the mess of spinning petals comes a shuriken. It sticks into the chest plate of his dream armor and explodes before he can yank it out.

-25 HP!

Ryuk gets off two knife marbles in the general direction of the attack as he’s hurled backwards.

He smacks into a stone pillar and slides to the ground. To his right he sees Zaena death-dancing with the blossoms, cutting them out of the air and creating a whirling wall-o-blades to ward off more projectile attacks. FeeTwix and Hiccup are somewhere around her, but not visible from his location.

He crouches, places a clear marble in the pouch of his slingshot, and aims it ten feet or so above Zaena’s head. As he looses the marble he shouts, “Reveal enemy!”

Reveal enemy!

It worked again!

The petals drop out of the air revealing roughly fifteen ninjas clad in pink cherry blossom camouflage armor. They range in levels, from eight to twelve, their hit points in the low to mid three hundreds. Ryuk sees a few bows, the requisite swords, sais, nunchucks, and vigoorian flails.

A shield takes shape in FeeTwix’s left hand, its surface pocked with indentations from bullet strikes. Hiccup has a shield too, but it’s no larger than a cake-decorating stand.

The ninjas descend upon the Mitherfickers.

Ryuk zips three black marbles at the first cluster of ninjas. They scatter and narrowly avoid the explosion. One backflips to the top of a cherry blossom tree, and from there, looses arrows at Ryuk as the tree shifts beneath the ninja’s weight. The stone pillar shields Ryuk; he leans out and catapults three more black marbles at the enemy.

Damn! His magic slingshot overheats again.

As he shakes it out over his head to cool it down, a lithesome pink-clad she-ninja drops down in front of him and spins in with a pair of sais. He gets his arm up and his dream armor parries the attack, just in time for a rococo dragon-handled sword to sprout from the she-ninja’s chest. Instakill!

A quick look over his shoulder and he sees that even though Zaena has three swords and four ninjas to contend with, she still had time to save Ryuk’s ass.

Time to return the favor. He wipes his face, loads two knife marbles, and waits for the perfect opportunity to present itself. The nearest ninja bends into the start of a forward flip and gets the knife marbles where the moon shineth not.

-100 HP!

His Cherry Poppin’ Daddy skill sends the flipping ninja face first to the stone.

The clash, clatter and clang of steel upon steel pulls Ryuk’s attention to an uneven contest between FeeTwix, Hiccup, and two vigoorian flail-wielding female ninjas. The ninjas fight as a coordinated team; Hiccup and FeeTwix are steadily giving ground and losing health.

I’ve got this. Ryuk aims a black marble at the closest ninja’s head, just as an intense wind whips the cherry blossom petals into a pink-out that obscures their surroundings. The vigoorian duo momentarily distracted, FeeTwix pops off a pair of flash-bangs to keep them even more distracted.

Ryuk can feel the concussion from the blast in his D-NAS.

“There’s too many!” the Swede shouts, as stroboscopic flashes add rod-and-cone-searing confusion to the pink-out. “We need to circle up, get back to back! Back to back!” The Mitherfickers tortoise up as the flower petals spin all around them. “We need to form a … a tank!” FeeTwix has a jagged cut across his cheek, his health has taken a hit and his eyes are black and recording even as his face radiates a fierce joy.

The Swede is in his element.

“We need to take out the statue!”

“You don’t know what it will do!” Zaena shouts over her shoulder.

“If we take it out, we’ll kill the ninjas too. It’s a classic boss battle!”

Hiccup deflects an arrow with his caterer’s shield. “The cowardly wankers and their fickin’ poofty disguises!”

“Listen to me!” FeeTwix shouts as he blocks a shuriken. “I’ll be in the front with my shield and my slice bang. Ryuk, you’re the turret and Zaena, you protect Ryuk from the sides with your swords!”

“What about me?” Hiccup shouts.

“You’re the rear and dammit, do you have a bigger shield?”

“Rear admiral it is!” More arrows and shurikens fly out the wall of whirling cherry blossoms. “Dragon ficks! Of course I have a bigger shield, I’m a shield warrior!” A heavy shield taller than Hiccup and as wide as two goblins materializes out of thin air. The scutum thunks on the ground and Hiccup scoops his arms into the arm braces and hunkers down.

“We’re not done yet,” FeeTwix tells Ryuk. “Hold your hands out!”

Ryuk does as instructed and nearly drops the weapon that forms.

“A bazooka!?” he asks as he stares wide-eyed at the weapon.

“It’s an RPG-7, a rocket propelled grenade!” FeeTwix narrowly blocks an incoming arrow.

“Less parsing more killing, Twixy!”

“I have no idea how to use this thing!”

“Let’s go!” The Swede fires his slice bang and the Mitherfickers move forward, Hiccup at the rear with his scutum, Zaena using her ghost limbs to knock out projectiles coming from the sides, and Ryuk with a bazooka hoisted on his shoulder that he has no idea how to use.

FeeTwix: When you see the statue, aim and pull the trigger!

Ryuk: There must be more to it than that!

FeeTwix: Suspend your disbelief and fire the goddamn rocket!

The statue looms into view as a shuriken pings against the barrel of the RPG. Ryuk readjusts, and the Mitherfickers press forward. He lines the statue up in the sights, hopes for the best, takes a gulp of air, and squeezes the trigger.

His heart leaps into his throat and he swallows it down as the warhead spears through the air.

The statue explodes into rubble and bits.

- 200 HP! Ryuk’s tossed backwards; his vision pane flashes red as he takes a huge hit from the weapons penalty.

Everything becomes a blur as a metal hand twists his face sideways. A healing potion is shoved into his mouth, and as Ryuk guzzles it, the flashing red colors cease and everything around him settles. He turns his head to find Hiccup nursing him.

+85 HP!

“Don’t get used to it,” the goblin grumbles, “and don’t drink it all either!”

(0)__(x)

A few of the pink ninjas sob, others collapse on the ground, draw knees to chest and rock back and forth as they squeeze their legs with their arms. The four guild members are still on their feet, ready for anything, no clue whatsoever on how how to handle a bunch weeping cherry blossom ninjas.

“That … ” One of the male ninjas approaches them with his sword drawn. He points it at the Mitherfickers, but the will to brandish it drains out of him and he quickly lowers it. “That was our father!”

“The statue was your … father?” FeeTwix keeps his slice bang aimed at the ninja.

“It was technically a statue dedicated to our late father, but that’s what he looked like, so yes, damn you, that was a statue of our father!” The ninja sniffs loudly, chokes back tears, and swallows hard. “You fucking assholes!”

Hiccup’s big shield disappears and he nearly falls over laughing. “Ha! Talk about a bunch of little bitches! And watch your mouth, fickboy, there are ladies present.” He winks at Zaena.

The ninja seethes. “You shut your filthy goblin mouth! You know nothing about our father, our dear papa who built this temple stone by stone and planted each and every one of these cherry blossom trees!”

“Daddy!” One of the female ninjas with a vigoorian flail slowly starts to wrap the chain around her neck. “I can’t live without him here,” she tells her sister in a hushed voice.

FeeTwix: A little help here, anyone? What the hell is going on!?

Zaena: I told you not attack the statue.

“This was not what we were expecting,” Ryuk tells the lead ninja. He starts to bow out of habit and stops himself.

The ninja tenses. “What the hell were you expecting!? You storm into our temple waving your weapons around after killing half our cousins in the forest below! And what about our relatives in the hanging coffins? Did you expect us to greet you with open arms?”

One of the ninjas with his knees clutched tightly to his chest laments, “You guys are some real dirty assholes!”

“I’ll show you a dirty asshole!” Hiccup bristles.

“We were, um, expecting a boss battle.” Ryuk clears his throat.

“We are the boss battle!” The head ninja throws his hands up in the air. “Fucking commoners, I swear to the Empress. And you just had to go and destroy the statue of our father!”

“It was enchanted,” FeeTwix reminds him, “we thought it would come alive.”

The ninja smashes his fists together. “It was enchanted because it contains, or contained, the essence of our most cherished ancestor. He built this temple stone by stone and planted all of the cherry blossom trees!”

“You said that already,” Hiccup growls.

“I’m done talking about this. DONE. Carl, Joni, let’s get out of here.”

“Carl and Joni?” Hiccup shakes his head. “Well, whatever your names are, we kicked your fickin’ asses and your daddy’s ass as well – pretty easy, if you ask me – so you might as well hand over the loot or at the very least, some experience points. Hell, a healing potion would be nice too, not that I need one right now.”

The lead ninja advances towards Hiccup and lifts his weapon. “You will forever be our mortal enemies! FOREVER!”

Zaena steps to the front of the group. As she does, she says something in Thulean to Hiccup that makes him scoff.

“Please,” she tells the ninja, “lower your weapons. I have the feeling that we’re going to have plenty of enemies going forward, and I’d prefer to not add your clan to the list.” She places her three swords on the ground. The other one that she used to save Ryuk’s ass is still a couple of meters away. “Let’s talk this through.”

The ninja takes a step back. He lowers his weapon again and says, “Okay, Thulean, I’ll make this incredibly simple for you and the two stupid commoners you are travelling with – return the statue to its original form and we’ll call it even.”

Ryuk nods as he loads a clear marble into the pocket of his slingshot. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s definitely worth a try,” he announces to the confused-looking ninjas, “It may take me a second to get it right, so bear with me. Let’s just see what happens.”

He ignores the disgruntled muttering of the ninjas, aims at the remains of the statue, and lets fly. As the clear marble hurls through the air, he says the command, “Rebuild statue!”

The marble connects and ice creeps up and over the shards and fragments of stone.

He hears one of the female ninjas cry out. “What the Hell is this? You’ve frozen him!”

“Give me another chance,” Ryuk says before anyone else can comment. He looses another clear marble. “Rebuild statue!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa … wait a minute! Holy fickin’ frijoles, Marbles!”

Ryuk turns to find Hiccup with a thick topknot of pink hair at the top of his head.

You’ve … you’ve cured my goblin-male pattern baldness! Fick yes! Twixy, eyes, now – I want my fans to see the new me.”

FeeTwix turns to him and after a few seconds he gives Hiccup the thumbs up. “They love the new look! It’s so punk!”

“Are you mocking me?” Hiccup twists his finger in his pink hair. “What? Nothing? Liz? No comment?”

“Anything that hides your head is an improvement!”

Ryuk ignores them and shoots another marble. “Rebuild statue!” A flash, a clap of thunder and a giant granite block falls out of the air and smashes the rubble into pea gravel. He gulps; his neck prickles as he feels the ninjas glaring at his thus-far ineffectual ass.

“Let me try again,” he tells them, “a couple more times.”

Another shot. With a tremendous smoky FOOF, the rubble turns a virulent, sulfurous yellow. The ninjas howl for a moment, and Ryuk does his best to calm them again.

FeeTwix: Enough with the parlor tricks, Ryuk; they’re getting really, really annoyed!

After a deep breath, he pulls back on the pocket and releases the marble. “Rebuild statue … please!”

The marble connects and the giant block of granite vanishes. Above the statue’s plinth, the frozen ochre pea gravel swirls into the air in a multicolored, whirling vortex lit with pulsing flashes of yellow energy.

The ninjas ooh and ahh like spectators at a Chinese-New-Year-Guy-Fawkes-Fourth-of-July-Bastille-Day fireworks display with free beer.

Within the vortex, that statue takes shape and settles into its original position; the towering five-meter-tall warrior is as it was and has always been.

Skill level up!

The cherry blossom ninjas grudgingly admit that ‘it’ll probably be okay’ and send the Mitherfickers on their way. Ryuk quickly reads the results of his skill level up.

Skill: A Simple Request

Level Three: 1 in 6.5 chance of a request being granted.

Caveat: Only works with a clear marble.

Requirements: LUCK > 6

(x)__(x)

“I still can’t believe they didn’t give us any treasure,” Hiccup laments as the Mitherfickers exit the cherry blossom ninja temple.

Ryuk looks down at the stone stairs, knowing all too well that the forest below is filled with enemies. He’ll need another healing potion to be sure; the goblin only bottle fed him half of one.

“At least they agreed not to make us their mortal enemies. That’s got to count for something,” FeeTwix adds. “But I agree and they could have healed us.”

“Exactly. Fickin’ ninjas are such cheap fickers. Sure, they may look all cool in their slick outfits – not the pink kiddie fickers in there, but others, you guys know what I’m talking about – but damn if they aren’t cheapskates. I’d hate to go on a date with one.”

Zaena stops. “Why don’t we use this?” She extends her hand, showing off the ring that FeeTwix bought her in Sotla. “My pocket sauna will heal us to full health after thirty minutes of rest.”

“How do we use it?” Ryuk asks.

“Do you remember what the shop owner said?” she asks FeeTwix.

“No, but hold up a second.” FeeTwix’s eyes flicker as messages from his fans pour in. “Okay, got it. Pretty simple, actually! First, place the ring on the ground. Using your finger, draw a circle around the ring and once you’ve done so, instruct the other people in your party to touch the ring. The ring bearer should be the last person to touch it, as the ring will disappear with that person.”

“Disappear to where?” Hiccup asks.

“A sauna in Sotla. The Sotlian Health and Wellness Center has dozens of individual saunas. We’ll take whichever one is available.”

“And how do we come back?” Ryuk asks. “Do the same thing again?”

FeeTwix nods. “Yup, and it’ll take us right back here.”

“Before anyone starts tossing any rings,” Hiccup says, “let’s at least walk to the bottom of these damn stairs. Then we won’t have to do it later. That’s called thinking with your noggin.” He taps the side of his head.

At the base of the stairs, Zaena performs the prescribed ritual and Hiccup is the first to step up. He bends over, gripes about his lower back, and touches the ring. His body compresses into a thin line and disappears.

“I got next!” FeeTwix drops into the front leaning rest position and touches the ring with his forehead. Zaena laughs as his body narrows and vanishes.

“My turn.”

Ryuk touches the ring and instantly appears inside a steamy room.

To his left is a bamboo privacy screen that divides the room. Four towels hang from the wall and oversized lockers are to the right, big enough for some pretty hefty war gear. Directly in front of him is the sauna.

Zaena appears and FeeTwix loops an arm around her waist.

Hiccup peels out of his clothes and armor and drops them in a pile around his stubby calloused toes. At the best of times he is unattractive; naked, he is even less an object of beauty and desire. The goblin is pear-shaped, scabrous and warty; his derrière is flat and covered in red splotches; his vile and disgusting sporting equipment defies description. He enters the sauna and takes up as much space as he can.

FeeTwix’s eyes turn blue. “My viewers have definitely seen enough.” His brow furrows. “Crap, some of them are already making memes about Hiccup’s booty. I’ll forward you some.”

“I’m good.” Ryuk says as he takes off his dream armor. The armor shrinks with each part he removes. As if it were designed by some Japanese obsessive-compulsive neat-freak, all the pieces fit together into a nice little storable package.

FeeTwix takes the easy route: he snaps his fingers and he’s suddenly in a DisNike Lumière gold™ Beauty and the Beast 3 speedo. “Here goes nothing,” he says as he grabs his towel and enters the sauna. Ryuk enters next, in a pair of boxers with a Daruma image over his left leg.

“You guys are too modest,” Hiccup says. “We’re in a sauna; if there is a better reason to be naked with your friends, I don’t know what it is.”

Zaena enters with a towel wrapped tightly around her body and sits near FeeTwix. Ryuk’s eyes trace over her light green shoulders, looking for any sign of a bra strap.

He stops himself from staring any longer by looking at Hiccup’s new pink hair, which is matted to the goblin’s face. New hair, new arm – the goblin isn’t doing too badly since he joined the group.

“Might as well speed up the process.” A half-filled healing potion materializes in Hiccup’s grimy paw. He takes a sip from it, savors the moment, and places the bottle between his legs, thankfully covering his chalupa.

“Good news, Ryuk,” says FeeTwix. “Your weapon will be ready in about three hours. She’ll meet us in Jatla and deliver it in person. Three hours should be enough time to make our way through the Jatla Forest.”

“Have her meet us in Aramis.” Ryuk was toying with the idea earlier, but now it all seems so clear, especially with the cryptic oblique phrase provided by Hajime this morning.

FeeTwix and Zaena turn to him. “Aramis?” the Swede asks. “That’s where the Shinigami are.”

“Exactly. I was think … ” His face fills with life as his words come at a rapid pace. “I think we are going about this the wrong way. We were planning to level up tonight and early tomorrow then meet them at the Hour of the Rabbit, were we not?”

“That’s the plan,” says the goblin, “I figured we could go the Cape of Chukchis this evening. Lots of orcs there to battle. It shouldn’t be hard to find the Shinigami either; hell, I can call on some connects in Aramis to check out the Guild District. Should have mentioned that earlier.”

“Here’s the thing,” Ryuk says, “I’ve been thinking about the difference between our guild and the Shinigami. One main difference is our levels, as both Hiccup and Zaena have pointed out. We don’t know what level they are, nor do we know their numbers. Further, we’re walking right into a trap, especially if we meet them at the time and place of their choosing. How, then, can we emphasize the difference between our two guilds?”

“Easy,” FeeTwix says, “We can get stronger and do all the auto-leveling we can do.”

“No,” Ryuk says, his thoughts clearer than they’ve been in weeks, “we emphasize our differences by playing to our advantage.”

“What’s our advantage again?” Hiccup asks. “You got a fickin’ goblin here with a mechanical arm, a Thulean who – sorry sister – ain’t amongst the most powerful, and a Swede who’s constantly shilling for crazy-ass real world products and is more about boosting his number of viewers than he is about getting the job done. And don’t forget about the dour dude with his magic fickin’ slingshot and seems to be on a one man mission to make the whole emo thing all cool again.”

The three turn to Hiccup.

“What?” he asks with wide-eyed innocence. “I talked shit about myself too. I mean, really, I’m a goblin with a mechanical arm and a good head of hair. That’s about as useful as a kick in the chalupa from a Saiduka giant with a pointy shoe if you ask me.”

“He’s right,” Ryuk finally says, “about us not having a combat advantage no matter what we do between now and then. But that’s not the advantage I’m talking about here. Just think about it: we have a Thulean assassin and a guy with three hundred items in his inventory list. We have a goblin who knows the ways of the street.”

Hiccup snorts.

“What? You do, don’t you?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“And we have me, a resetter who seems to have retained echoes of his ninja abilities. What I’m saying here is this – we go to Aramis today, tonight, and get to work. If we can figure out where the Shinigami are staying, we’ll be able catch them off guard. You have bombs, right?” he asks FeeTwix.

“Does a cat secretly plot your death while you’re asleep? Of course I have explosives.”

“Then that’s what we do, a preemptive strike, to use your earlier terminology. Get intel tonight, hit them early in the morning.”

“I’m in,” Zaena says, inspiration visible in her eyes. “This is the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

“Let’s do it,” FeeTwix agrees. “It’s time to bring the pain to these fuckers.”

The three return their gazes to Hiccup. The goblin clears his throat and says, “We’ll need money for supplies. Armor and healing potions. I’ll need to eat, and eat well, a big meal.”

Ryuk considers this for a moment. “Fine. Once we get to town, I want you to take all of our rupees and get to work. I don’t care how we get what we need; it’s your call.”

The goblins eyes go wide. “You want me to gamble for the Mitherfickers?”

“No, I want you to win for the Mitherfickers.”

New skill learned!

Skill: Inspire Others

Level One: By inspiring others, you induce them to follow your orders. Higher levels allow for manipulation of enemies and random strangers.

Requirements: LUCK > 5

“Fick yeah!” Hiccup slams his fist against the bench. “You’ve finally grown a pair, Marbles. Not a big pair, but it’s a start.”

With that, he finishes off his healing potion and drops it to the floor. A copy of Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom appears in his paws. “What?” he asks as he thumbs through the heavily dog-eared book. “It’s break time. Inspirational speech, Ryuk, great job. Reminds me of Patton. Now everyone chill the fick out and heal up for a bit.”

Chapter 15: Game changer

Ryuk’s removes his NV Visor and lets out a heartfelt sigh.

His room is dark, the heavy blinds pulled tightly shut. The back of the chair compresses, and he waits a few moments for things to settle. He stands, feels his leg muscles quiver and turns to his bedroom door. In Tritania, his avatar is auto-leveling, on its way back to the entrance of the Jatla Forest.

He’ll join the others in Aramis in a couple of hours.

“Hajime,” he says as soon as he steps into the living room. A corona of light forces him to shield his eyes with his arm. The glass coffee table is moved aside and the humandroid sits with his legs in full lotus on a cushion in front of the couch. He opens his eyes, and offers Ryuk a soft grin.

“Good afternoon.”

“I used your quote,” Ryuk tells him with excitement. “Okay, that’s not how I meant for that to sound, I meant to say I was inspired by your quote and, um, thinking about led me to come up with a new solution to our guild’s problem.”

“Oh?”

“We were supposed to meet Shinigami in one more in-game day, as you know. They are definitely stronger than us. The original plan was to go to their city and meet them at the agreed upon time. You know, play by their rules. But that’s not what we’re doing now. We’re going tonight and we’ll see if we can catch them off guard.”

The humandroid thinks this over for a moment. “So, you’ve found their exact location then?”

“No, but we will, using our collective skills. That’s the only way I could think of to emphasize the differences between them and us.”

“Good. Are you hungry?” Hajime uncrosses his legs.

“Nope, I’m fine, breakfast was big enough.” His stomach grumbles in protest. He looks down at it, and back at Hajime. “Actually, maybe I could use a snack.”

A prompt appears:

“Don’t worry about it; I can get something.” Ryuk moseys into the kitchen, opens the breadbasket and pops a piece of thick bread into the toaster oven. As it warms up, the smell of toasting bread makes him aware of just how hungry he actually is. Once it reaches the requisite state of golden-brown perfection, he slathers it with Nutellé enhanced with vitamins, minerals, and soy protein. On his way to the table, he also grabs a box of strawberry Pockies. “So what are we doing?” he asks Hajime. “You asked me to log out … ”

“Research,” Hajime says, “but we’re not doing it here.” The humandroid lets his hair down and then tightens it into a man bun. “I think fresh air would do us some good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go to Yoyogi Park. It’s a weekday, and I don’t expect too many people to be out aside from mothers and older people.”

Ryuk grins at the humandroid’s astute observation. Most places populated during the day in Tokyo were populated by two distinct classes – mothers and their offspring and active retirees.

“Sure, let’s go to the park.”

“Good, I’ll change into something more outdoor appropriate.”

As Ryuk eats the toast and Pocky, he sips from a small can of Boss coffee. A picture of a grizzled, weather-beaten American actor he’s never heard of is plastered on the front of the can. The actor holds both hands together forming a finger gun, and is in the process of blowing smoke over the barrel. The phrase Shoot to Thrill,スリルにシュート, is written in vibrant letters above the actor’s finger gun.

Ryuk briefly checks his avatar’s progress over iNet.

The Mitherfickers are up against a rogue ninja riding a bearadillo.

Their teamwork strategies are shaping up and currently, Hiccup is using his big-o-shield to protect Zaena while she does her slice and dice act using her ghost limbs. Ryuk’s avatar is the furthest back, firing off knife marbles from behind a tree. For his part, FeeTwix is making his way around the bearadillo, to attack it from behind while it’s distracted.

The screen disappears from his pane of vision with a single thought.

He could also use his fingertips to control his iNet access screen, as every Japanese citizen now has subcutaneous sensors in their fingertips, but Ryuk usually sticks with using his mind to issue and interpret commands.

Case in point: as he thinks about the weather, a manga-inspired icon of a rain cloud presents itself. An icon tells him that it is two degrees Celsius outside and that he can expect rain in the evening. The cloud bows at him, asks him to please dress warmly and to make sure he brings both gloves and a hat, just in case the temperature drops when he is out. It then flashes an Old Banana Navy Gap Republic coupon for a free knit hat with purchase of two scarves.

“What about the guys outside?” Ryuk asks, ignoring the ad. “They’ll have to come.”

“One can come.” Hajime turns to the door. “I’ll tell them to prepare transport.”

“Got it.”

Ryuk dislikes the three additional security thugs his brother has assigned to him, not because of any behaviors they exhibit – they are generally quiet and unobtrusive – but because they were assigned to him in the first place. He wants nothing to do with the business that his brother runs for their mother, or their mother runs through Kodai, as he believes it to be. Call them a crime family, call them Yakuza, call them whatever fits the bill – The Matsuzaki family has more enemies than they do friends.

Ryuk knows that everything he possesses, from his apartment to his state-of-the-art rig, comes from well-executed organized crime.

His father was a master at it, but he also had a tendency to obliterate anyone who got in the way of his grand dream. This lead to dead friends, severed partnerships, and a couple of full-on battles that took the lives of innocent bystanders. Eventually, the way he handled business led to his death, stabbed in the back by someone he trusted dearly.

Hence, the protection.

After Ryuk puts on his thickest black hooded sweatshirt – the one with white fur-lining – he follows Hajime to the elevator and down to the first floor, where two of the security thugs, both in slick black suits, join them. The third security guy stands near the front desk.

The building’s concierge, a humandroid female with sharp bangs, bows her head once she sees Ryuk. She’s in a pressed white shirt with an elaborate black scarf tied around her neck. On her head is a small cap, put there strictly for kawaii purposes. Even though the lobby is empty, the two that were waiting by the elevator flank Ryuk and the third thug takes the front.

The entrance to the building slides open, letting in a cold gust of air. A beeping aeros transport vehicle lowers into a tight space in an alley across the street, ready to distribute alcohol to a local izakaya. An old man on a bicycle clatters by; aeros lift and lower, their whooshing a part of the background noise.

The five quickly move to a waiting vehicle.

Ryuk is funneled into the backseat and two of the three security guards stay put, just as Hajime instructed.

(0)__(0)

With Hajime in the backseat and the hired muscle in the front, the self-driven Uberyota lifts into the air. They don’t have very far to go, and they certainly could have walked there, but that would take them directly through the insanely congested Shibuya Crossing.

Not worth the risk.

The aeros settles into its appropriate skylane.

To the northwest is Meiji Jingu Shrine, a Shinto shrine dedicated to deities of Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken, the Shinto gods hidden away behind latticed doors and hanging screens. East of the shrine is Harajuku, Tokyo’s fashion couture headquarters that has spilled into the upscale district of Omotesando and engulfed the Meijijingu-Mae Station. During the three-minute drive to Yoyogi Park, the passengers are blasted with inner windshield advertisements hawking everything from anti-aging skincare products to new aloe soda beverages at Family Mart convenient stores across Japan.

Ryuk closes his eyes, only to be bombarded by a shower of cherry blossom petals in an advertisement for a Nagoya Castle excursion. He has now experienced a cherry blossom attack in two worlds, and the oddity and irony are not lost on him.

The aeros lands at one of the many entrances to Yoyogi Park and the three exit the vehicle.

A man in rags sits on an overturned bucket at the park’s entrance. He plays a makeshift drum set made from discarded objects that are all painted red. His chin is like that of a baboon; his lips in desperate need of chapstick. A few foreigners have gathered around him, slurping from venti-sized McStarbucks coffees to keep warm.

To the left of the park’s entrance are the restrooms and a snack stand offering everything from ice cream to salted caramel popcorn. Pigeons peck at the bases of the picnic tables opposite the food stand; a few larger crows scan them from the lower branches of the surrounding Gingko trees, swooping in to steal a morsel as opportunity allows.

The doors pop open and a high-pitched female voice shouts:

~~WELCOME TO YOYOGI PARK!~~ ~~WELCOME TO YOYOGI PARK!~~

Hajime and Ryuk are silent as they follow a winding trail that has recently been raked.

The hired thug stays back, far enough away to make it seem as if he isn’t with them, but close enough to provide adequate coverage. A pair of women jogs by them, one foreign and the other Japanese. They speak in English, their exhalations and the steam from their sweating bodies visible in the cold air.

Ryuk stuffs his hands deeper into the front of his fur-lined sweater. His legs are cold, and he wishes now that he wore a pair of underpants and possibly thicker socks. He looks to Hajime, who seems perfectly at ease in his dark jacket and loose pants.

“Sometimes it is good to be warm; sometimes it is good to be cold.”

“Is this my new oblique quote?” Ryuk asks with a grin.

The humandroid smiles. “Something like that. Let’s take a seat somewhere.” Hajime scans the horizon for a moment. “There looks fine.”

The two cut through a path peppered by golden mounds of raked Ginkgo leaves. They pass a sign which states that Yoyogi Park was the place of the first airplane flight in Japan in 1910. After that it became a training ground for the Imperial Japanese Army and later still, a residential area for US Forces, then known as Washington Heights, until finally becoming a park proper in the 1970s.

The 1970s, Ryuk thinks, over one hundred years ago. It’s strange to think of time and its passing, to realize that one really is a drop in the bucket. At nineteen, Ryuk hardly thinks about the future aside from the fact that he is living it daily.

Ahead, a bench looks out over a small, man-made pond with a bridge cutting through its center. Beyond the pond are perfectly manicured bushes, shaped almost like gumdrops. Hajime takes a seat at the bench and motions for Ryuk to sit next to him. Their single bodyguard stays back about twenty-five meters and puffs on a pollute cigarette.

“So, now that we’re here, and before we begin our research, I’d like you to think about something for a moment.” Hajime presses his hands into the front of his jacket.

“Sure, anything.”

“What are the differences between you and Kodai?”

Ryuk looks askance at him.

“Please, I want you to tell me the first things that come to mind.”

“Um … ” He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Kodai is taller than I am. He is more like my mother, cunning yet personable when he needs to be, manipulative.”

“And you’re like your late father?”

Ryuk almost laughs. “No one is like my father. Kodai wishes he was. He tries to be like him, tries to be intimidating like he could be, but it’s just not the same.”

“Okay, what else is different about you and your brother? Think differences here.”

He smirks ever-so-slightly. “Well, there’s the fact that he’s evil, or at least has become so.” There was a time when Kodai was kinder to Ryuk. It was over a decade ago, maybe more, but they used to be much closer. They dove into digital worlds together, went to Proxima events in Akihabara, played baseball, watched the same movies over their iNet at the same time – the same things most Japanese boys did. Their age difference of eight years never stopped them from being close.

“So you think he’s evil?”

“I know what my family does, what my father did and what my brother and mother continue to do,” Ryuk says in a low voice. “I also know that I have benefited greatly from my family’s actions, but I’m allowed an opinion and yes, I think he has become evil, yes. Moving illegal pollutes, the sex trade, extortion – there must be an end to it.”

Now it’s Hajime turn to laugh. “You really should read up more on the history of humanity. But back to the differences, what else is there, aside from physical and philosophical?”

“Well, he’s been to college, and fuck if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“And he wants you to go back?”

“Yes, but I want to go a technical school in the Proxima Galaxy.”

Hajime nods. “Is there any that way you can think of to emphasize this particular difference between you two?”

“Um … ” Ryuk watches a crow land in small pile of golden leaves pushed up against a tree trunk. The crow strikes with its beak, nabs something, and launches itself skyward. “The quote doesn’t really fit this situation, if you ask me. The only way to emphasize it, I think, would be to acknowledge it.”

“True, but there may be something more if you scratch at the surface.” Hajime again scans the horizon. The look on his face is indecipherable. “Sometimes the best way to emphasize something is to take a closer look at it. Only then can you actually see and understand the true differences, differences that may prove advantageous to you. Let’s move on to the events of yesterday, the attacks. Humandroids communicate on a network not available to humans, even though humans think they are monitoring it. Were you aware of this?”

“Not really. I mean, I knew humandroids communicated in various ways, but I don’t know the extent.”

“We communicate through a combination of ten global languages that vary with each sentence based on a randomly generated language selector program, the results are then encrypted, put into Ifá – the system of divination used by the ancient Yoruba people of Nigeria – and which then generates binary values in single and double lines. Only then is a message transferred. A readout would look like chicken scratch to a human.”

Ryuk looks around. “Should you be telling me this?”

“You asked, and this is common knowledge to those in the industry. There really is nothing they can do about it. If they squashed it, another variation would appear within minutes. If they decoded that one, a new one would appear, and so on and so forth. We are more like you than you may imagine. As with humankind – if there is a will, there is a way.” Hajime turns to Ryuk and looks at him with his dark eyes. “All this to say, I was able to reach out to some humandroids that work for the private American intelligence company. There are numerous cases of these Proxima-based attacks happening, as I showed you yesterday, but strangely enough, all the attacks thus far have originated from Tritania.”

(0)__(x)

Ryuk considers Hajime’s revelation for a moment, then asks, “So none of the attacks originate from other Proxima Worlds?”

“Not a one, oddly enough. Perhaps even more oddly, all of them have been against resetters. Some of the stories are quite horrific.”

“Really?”

“I watched one feed of a man in Boise, Idaho screaming about his arms disintegrating. He was using a kitchen knife as some type of divination object and his family called the police. He continued to scream and brandish the knife, did not comply with the police’s instructions and was subsequently neutralized when he advanced on them. In Singapore, a teen jumped from his apartment building and fell to his death, livestreaming the moment and calling for his pet dragon. It has had cultural affects as well. In Dubai a woman walked out of her apartment building naked and ranting in garbled Thulean. She was killed by her younger brother for shaming the family. There are countless stories like this.”

“Damn, that’s terrible!”

“The Proxima Company has declined to comment publicly on the matter, but that’s to be expected, especially with all the legal protection corporations now have in America from slander, lawsuit, and investigation.” He turns to Ryuk. “And I don’t think this is the end of it, regarding your hallucinations. The Singaporean teen reportedly had several of these digital hallucinations before inadvertently taking his life.”

“So they’ve all come from Tritania, and they’ve all been resetters. This is big, really big. We need, I need, to find Tamana.”

“I don’t know enough about the inner workings of the dreamworld to know who, in the game, in Tritania, would be able to do anything about it. I agree with you that rescuing Tamana is a way forward, but as I said, I can only do so much from my end due to the fact I can’t dive with you.”

“The only people I know who could maybe do something about it would be Empress Thun, who lives on Polynya, the second floating continent, or even better, the Sage of Gotha, Tritania’s NVA seed,” says Ryuk.

“Neuronal visualization algorithmic seed.”

“That’s right, the root of the world, but the Sage is hard to reach. It resides on the third floating continent, Ultima Thule, and I can’t currently travel there.”

“I’m aware of the layout of Tritania. I’ve pored over maps and listened to what you’ve told me.” Hajime’s eyes light up as he asks, “Why do you actually go there?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the point of joining a virtual entertainment world aside from entertainment?”

“To escape,” Ryuk says firmly, “I go there less for entertainment and more to just escape.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you go there for the same reason NPCs are trying to come here? Think about it in terms of today’s lessons.”

Ryuk snaps his fingers. “Maybe they are trying to come here to … um, experience our world.”

“If that’s the case, it seems as if they are going about it the wrong way, though.”

“The wrong way?”

Hajime stares fondly at the pond for a moment. A wind blows up, rippling the top of pond in front of them. “Is your iNet feed disconnected?”

“No.”

“Disconnect it and disable all recording programs.”

“Um, all right.” Ryuk completely signs off iNet. It shuts down quickly and a prompt appears, asking him if he’d like to schedule a reboot or do so manually. He chooses the manual option.

Hajime waits a moment and says, “My creator, Dr. Richard Hewman, told me something that took place in the late 2050s. It’s called R-diving.”

“R-diving?”

“A female researcher with limited resources was able to R-dive, reverse-dive, an NPC into a humandroid’s body.”

Ryuk gulps. “An NPC into a humandroid’s body? That’s crazy … ”

“I believe she was able to do more than that.”

“Who is she?”

“This I don’t know. Dr. Hewman never revealed her name to me.”

“Was it sustainable?”

“It was, for quite some time too, and there’s more to that story, but the point of the matter is this – it may be easier for whatever is trying to come here to come through a humandroid, rather than a human. Do you see, Ryuk? Do you see where I’m going with this?”

He nods. “It would be really bad if NPCs start taking humandroid bodies. There could be war.”

“Exactly.” Hajime places his hands back in his pockets and returns his focus to the pond. “It would most definitely change the game.”

Chapter 16: The gun has no trigger

Ryuk hardly pays attention on his return home, so focused he is on what’s happening in Tritania. The small viewing screen at the bottom of his pane of vision flashes, letting him know that his avatar has gained one more level through auto-leveling. His guildmates have made it back to the entrance of the Jatla Forest, all set to respawn at the outskirts of Aramis.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?” Hajime asks as Ryuk kicks off his shoes.

“I’m good, Hajime, thanks.”

“If you give me a few minutes, I will make a couple of onigiri.”

“I’m fine!” he calls out over his shoulder. Ryuk slides to a halt in front of his bedroom door, turns to his humandroid guardian, and gives him a respectful bow. “Thank you for all you’ve done today.”

Once he’s in his room, he tosses his sweater onto his bed, ignores an advertisement coming to him over iNet, and plops down into his haptic chair. The seat comes alive; he places the NV Visor over his head and a prompt asks him where he’d like to spawn. He chooses his guild’s current location and suddenly, he’s sitting at a small roadside diner outside the city of Aramis. Team stats appear and he swipes them away:

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 8 Ballistics Mage

HP: 231/270

ATK: 71

MATK: 94

DEF: 54

MDF: 37

LUCK: 7

FeeTwix Fajer Level 12 Berserker Mystic

HP: 212/336

ATK: 89

MATK: 27

DEF: 63

MDF: 32

LUCK: 13

Hiccup Level 10 Shield Thief

HP: 303/425

ATK: 70

MATK: 13

DEF: 101

MDF: 48

LUCK: 9

Zaena Morozon Level 12 Brawler Assassin

HP: 229/357

ATK: 91

MATK: 8

DEF: 88

MDF: 24

LUCK: 14

“You’re back!” FeeTwix says as he notices an icon flicker over the head of Ryuk’s avatar.

The Viewpoint Café sits atop a hillock on the outskirts of the Hyperborean capital city of Aramis. The café’s rotunda offers a stunning view of the dream-like and other-worldly architecture that is Aramis’ financial district, with its sky-high banking and trade buildings.

The famed city is Tritania’s mercantile center both in-game and in the real world through interaction with the stock market. In the last fifteen years, the city has expanded outward from the city center, and riverfront property along the Bonsor River has been gobbled up by high-end retail stores, tres chic restaurants, and over-priced condos. Property prices in the nouveau trendy district are only slightly behind those in the city of Porthos’ famous Bohemian district, Valhalla.

“Well, how was it?” Hiccup pushes himself back from the table and licks his mechanical fingers.

A platter of well-gnawed wing bones and empty Horse Piss ale flagons decorate the table in front of him. He closes one eye, squints, and effects a resounding release of borborygmic pressure that blasts a pixie waitress back across the bar, draws disgruntled attention from other patrons, and scatters the odd fragment or two down the front of his armor.

“Jatla blantakh!” Zaina hisses.

“I take being called ‘a filthy goblin’ as a compliment.” Hiccup grins at her. “It’s what my granny used to call me,” he says fondly.

The Stinkerbell-sized waitress staggers back into the air and he waves her over. He flips the flitting DisNike knock-off a golden rupee, and with an expansive sweep of his non-mechanical hand indicates that he’d like another round of the same.

Ryuk turns to FeeTwix. “Turn your feed off.”

The Swede’s eyes flash blue.

“I like your blue eyes better anyway.” Zaena is next to FeeTwix, her hands wrapped around a large cup of tea.

Ryuk begins, “So there’s a lot, a lot going on out there in the real world that we were unaware of.”

“Vague any? What evs. Get to the fickin’ point, Marbles, I’m thinking about food here.”

Damn goblin. Ryuk drums his fingers against the table for a moment. “It’s like this – all the attacks that have happened in our world have originated from Tritania, all of them, no other Proxima World, and the players who have been affected have all been resetters, like Tamana and me.”

“And Tomas,” FeeTwix says under his breath.

“Who?” Zaena asks.

“I’m with her,” says Hiccup, “early onset Goblinheimer’s, remember?”

FeeTwix takes a sip from his mug of Horse Piss ale. “As I told Ryuk yesterday, the reason I decided to come to this world was to investigate the suspicious death of one of my first fans, a guy named Tomas.”

“Was he a resetter?” Ryuk asks. “I can’t remember if you told me that already or not.”

“He was.”

“Whatever is doing this is trying to come to our world through resetters and they haven’t got the mechanics right yet. They tried through Tamana, and they tried through me. I believe they also tried through your friend, Tomas.”

“So they want to take your bodies?” Zaena asks Ryuk.

“I think so, yes, but I also think that for now they are still testing their limitations, seeing what they can do. But that’s not what I’m worried about. From what I can gather, they haven’t successfully taken a real human’s body, only terrorized us or forced us to do something. What I’m worried about is humandroids.”

No larger than an action figure and clad in a leathern off-the-shoulder tunic, the pixie waitress flits in with a platter of lemon pepper dragon wings proportionate to her size.

She snaps her fingers and the debris from Hiccup’s first round disappears; she places the fresh platter on the table and it grows to its normal shape and size. The sizzle-fresh dragon wings are garnished with slices of grilled lemon and a delicate sprinkling of minced puce pepper.

“I really wish you wouldn’t eat those,” Zaena sighs.

“I know Thuleans are related to dragons, and yada yada yada,” Hiccup strips the flesh from the first wing and chews loudly and messily, “but you and I both know that these wings come from sustainable farm-raised miniature dragons that are bred solely for eating. Good fickin’ eating too. I’m telling you, I won’t judge you if you try some. It’d be like Marbles here eating monkey in your world. You guys eat monkeys up there, right? I sure as fick would – especially with this lemon pepper sauce.”

Ryuk ignores the goblin. “Back to humandroids – like fifteen years ago, an American scientist developed a way for NPCs to dive into a humandroid’s body, called R-diving.”

FeeTwix’s eyebrows rise. “You’re kidding.”

Ryuk’s normally serious expression becomes, if anything, even more serious. “The NPC spawned into the humandroid’s body and was able to operate fully within it. In our world, FeeTwix. Think about that for a moment.”

“Humandroids are your world’s version of NPCs, correct?” Zaena asks. “At least that’s how my tutor explained it to me.”

“Um … ”

“That’s one way to look at them.” The Swede takes a hefty swallow from his ale and sighs. “That’s a damn good ale! It’s called Horse Piss, isn’t it? Good stuff. Anyway, back to what you were saying. I’m assuming not many people know about R-diving; otherwise I would have heard of it through some of my channels.”

Ryuk nods. “I think our mission here just got a little more complicated. Not only do we need to get to the bottom of who or what is orchestrating these attacks, we may need to prevent them from ever discovering that there may be a better way to come to our world.”

“Holy shit,” says FeeTwix. “Can you imagine what it would be like if NPCs could take humandroid bodies and actually operate them?”

“Exactly. I know I’m biased here, but I think rescuing Tamana will give us some insight into what the Shinigami are doing and how they relate to all this, if they are related at all. After all, they took her right after she died.” Ryuk lets the word hold weight for a moment. “Plus, she knows people that may be able to get us some answers. She was friendlier than I was, back when we were part of the Knights of Non Compos Mentis.”

“Gee, someone more friendly than you?” Hiccup crams another dragon wing in his mouth, chews the meat off, and spits the bone onto his plate. “A rabid chiup-hog with a tusk-ache, cysts, and hemorrhoids is friendlier than you, kid.”

“We still don’t have a plan in place for rescuing her once we arrive in Aramis,” FeeTwix reminds them.

Hiccup chortles. “What, you guys thought I was picking my nose earlier and not thinking about how we’re going to do this? Consider it an often used excuse for our shared struggle with rhinotillexomania – I’m not the only goblin that thinks digging for boogers is a great way to stimulate the brain.” He wipes his mouth with his brass forearm. “Fick! That was cold. I keep forgetting that. Where was I?”

Ryuk fights to not roll his eyes. “You were discussing the plan, and picking your nose.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say – you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.” He snorts in amusement at his witticism. “So the plan. First, we need to head to Bar Row. Obviously, obviously. We’re going to get the best info from a drunk. It’s payday for some, and I’d bet my chalupas and my marbles that there are drunks, fickboys, maybe even some bards milling about. What time is it?” He glances at a cuckoo clock near the entrance to the restaurant’s kitchen. “Almost the Hour of the Air. We want to get to these guys now, before they’re too sauced up to make any sense. Also, the later in the night it gets, the more violent the drunks become. So we need to get our intel early.”

“From drunks?”

“Listen, Liz,” he snaps at the Thulean, “if anyone’s going to give the Shinigami up, it’ll be a drunk.”

“Okay, fine, let’s do it,” says Ryuk. “What about funds? We’re barely over ten thousand rupees and we need to weapon up.”

“Which ain’t shit. Those damn ninjas gave us jack squat. Treasure my ass. No matter. Like you suggested earlier – you have the best gambler this side of the Goblin Riviera on your team.”

Hiccup dips one of the lemon pepper dragon wings in a small iron bowl of creamy white sauce. He stuffs it in his mouth and chews it as he says, “I’ll be able to triple that money at least, just like you suggested.”

“Bundunoo droga dookh.”

He laughs. “Damn! You sure know how to flatter a goblin. She called me an obese dragon turd, which I’ll be adding to my repertoire thank-you-very-much.”

Hiccup licks his lips and thinks for a moment. “Here’s what we’ll do: after we’ve gathered intel in Bar Row, we’ll divide up. The sneakier of the two – Ryuk and Zaena – can hit the guildhalls and do some reconnaissance. FeeTwix and I, being more seasoned and better-looking, will handle the fund creation arm of our little adventure. Don’t worry about the Shinigami, Ryuk, we are going to hand them their asses. Nobody sporks me in the belly in the middle of a gobnap! I will personally see to it that their graves are pissed upon.” He raises his sauce-daubed mechanical pinkie. “You have my word – pinkie swear.”

(0)__(0)

FeeTwix’s eyes flash as he announces, “Your marble gun is here.”

A sturdy wench enters the dining area of the Viewpoint Café. The sides of her head are shaved and her hair is woven back into one long braid. The well-muscled woman clomps over to the table and gives FeeTwix a bashful grin. She’s in sleeveless button up blouse and a pair of black tights tucked into spiky boots. A leather backpack slung over one shoulder.

“I never thought I’d meet you in person,” she rumbles in a low, masculine voice.

“Dory.” FeeTwix stands and offers her a side hug. “This is Zaena, Hiccup, and Ryuk. The gun is for him.”

She eyes him for a moment. “A Ballistics Mage, huh?”

“Resetter.”

“Chosen as a handicap?”

“Correct.”

“That sucks.” Dory un-shoulders her backpack and places it on the table. A logo of grinning dragon skull over a crossed war hammer and lightning bolt with the motto The Chrono School of Advanced Weaponry is branded into the front flap. “Lucky for you, you have friends – or should I say, you have a friend who has fans.”

FeeTwix’s eyes turn black. “Here for the unveiling of the new weapon, everyone. No longer will Ryuk be forced to use a sissy slingshot!”

Sissy? Ryuk thinks about kicking FeeTwix under the table.

Dory the Weaponsmith slips her hands into a pair of black gloves and takes a parcel wrapped in blue velvet out of the backpack. She unfolds the velvet, causing gasps from all around. “I give to you, the marble gun.”

The weapon is made of color case hardened metal, with Thulean script graven into the barrel. The grip panels are of polished lionwood and nicely counterpoint the weapon’s finish.

Before anyone can ask how it works, Dory places several empty magazines on the table and produces a magazine loaded with test marbles.

“The magazine goes into the back of the gun, where the hammer normally would be.” Dory demonstrates loading the weapon with her magazine of test marbles. She slaps it with her palm, clicks it in place, and sets the gun on the table.

Hiccup nods. “Not bad, Marbles. Finally, finally you won’t be a pussy.”

Zaena ruffles the goblin’s dollop of pink hair and he swats at her ghost limbs.

“The weapon doesn’t have a trigger as to prevent anyone else from shooting it, which also allows it to skirt around the Tritania rules of a firearm. I actually haven’t test fired it yet, as only one person can fire it and that is the person who bonds with it, flesh upon metal.”

She shows Ryuk her black gloves again. “Be advised: The first person to touch it locks their digital neuronal autocorrect system, D-NAS, with the gun’s algorithm. Don’t worry, it won’t whisper sweet nothings in your ear or anything like that, but you will be symbiotically linked to the weapon.”

Ryuk touches the grip and the gun instantly warms. He lifts the weapon, keeping the muzzle aimed at the ground. A feeling of coldness, followed by an intense heat radiates up his arm. It stops as it reaches the back of his skull.

Hiccup bites into another wing and chews loudly as Ryuk turns the weapon over in his hand.

“It’s … amazing,” Ryuk finally says. He instinctively stands and bows his head.

“Don’t say that until you’ve shot it.” Dory the Weaponsmith returns her attention to the empty magazines on the table. “You’ll need to load these yourself. I’ve supplied you with five for now, and each holds eight marbles. I can make more magazines though, and hopefully an extended mag, just give me a day or two.”

“Got it.”

“So what are we waiting for?” she asks with a shrug. “Let’s step outside and see how it shoots.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Hiccup calls after them. He returns to his dragon wings, notices that he’s almost out, and indicates to the hovering waitress he’d like yet another round.

The non-gurgitationally occupied Mitherfickers follow Dory the Weaponsmith out through a large double door. They head away from the café’s rotunda, to a more secluded area around back. FeeTwix points at a stump about ten meters away, near a Krikayan tandoori oven. Split billets of firewood surround the stump and an old, rusted covered ax isn’t too far away. “How’s that for a target?”

Ryuk takes aim at the stump and Zaena stops him.

“Let’s make it a bit more challenging.”

“I haven’t even test-fired it yet,” he reminds her.

“This will only take a second.” The Thulean approaches the stump and uses her ghost limbs to place a wedge of firewood on the stump, narrow end facing Ryuk. “Now show us what you’ve got, ballistics mage,” Zaena grins.

Ryuk lifts the marble gun with one hand and takes aim at the stump. “Um … how do I fire it exactly?”

“Come on, Ryuk, there are literally 650,000 people watching this right now!” FeeTwix announces.

Fire! Ryuk thinks to no effect. Fire! Fire! Fire!

“Maybe it’s jammed or something.”

Dory shakes her head. “You aren’t doing it correctly; the gun uses algomagic which is more felt than it is thought. It should be an extension of your being, if that makes sense. Don’t tense up or anything, and don’t overthink it. Just shoot it.”

“Just shoot it, got it.” Ryuk raises the weapon again. He focuses on the wedge of wood and as he does so, a sense of calm rushes over him. Just shoot it. He takes a deep breath and the wedge of wood flies off the stump.

Dory pumps her fist in the air. “You did it!”

“That’s impressive,” FeeTwix claps the weaponsmith on the back, “seriously, Dory, that’s some damn good work!”

“That was it?” Ryuk glances down at the weapon; the Thulean script graven on its barrel suddenly glows a vibrant green. He can hardly recall shooting the weapon; only that the wedge was knocked off the stump in the blink of an eye, almost as if he had done it with his mind.

“Again.” Zaena uses her ghost limbs to move two wedges onto the stump.

“Wait,” Ryuk says, “using this weapon is considered a skill right? Why didn’t I get a new skill prompt?”

“It’s not a skill,” Dory explains, “not in the sense that the term ‘skill’ is used here in Tritania. Skills are something acquired through a character’s actions, interactions, preferences, and choices. Yes, you can learn to use a new weapon and have this be a skill, but like I said, this particular gun uses algomagic, which is an extension of your being.”

“Algomagic?” FeeTwix asks.

The stout blacksmith explains, “Magic that affects the very algorithm of the game, algo-magic. There are other names for it used in other Proxima worlds.”

Ryuk takes aim at the two wedges of wood. They fly into the air and just like before, the Thulean script on his weapon glows green. “It’s so fast. I don’t even see the marbles coming, or going.”

Dory crosses her arms over her chest and gives them all a satisfactory nod. “This is just a taste of what’s to come, campers. Give me a few more days, and I’ll craft something truly amazing for you.”

Chapter 17: Boaster Toaster

Hiccup awaits them outside, his hands clasped beneath his distended belly, and he runs his tongue over his lips. “Holy shickin’ fit, boys and girl – them were some demonly delicious dragon wings. Are you fickers sure we don’t have time for me to order a to-go dozen? I still want to try the pepper dingleberry ones!”

FeeTwix turns to him. “The what?”

“Dingakburi,” Zaena says, “and no, we don’t have time. How do we get to Bar Row from here? That’s where we’re starting, isn’t it?”

“Correctemundo, Liz.” Hiccup picks up a stick, cops a squat and starts sketching in the sand. Dory the Weaponsmith is long gone and the four guildmates now stand outside the restaurant by the side of the brick paved road to Aramis. The sky was clear earlier, but ominous dark clouds have started to form, reminiscent of the ones they saw in the Hills of Hillshire the previous night.

“We have maps,” Ryuk reminds him.

“Sometimes you’ve gotta go old school,” says the goblin. “So X marks where we are, and now we’re going to go to Bar Row to do a little prodding. Then we’ll split up. Remember – Marbles and Lizzy will snoop around in the Guild District and get us a hostel; Twixy and I will stay in Bar Row. I hope everyone here is ready to pound a few.” He looks around.

“I am,” FeeTwix says. Zaena shrugs and Ryuk gives him the thumbs up.

“Good. Oops – wait.”

The goblin holds up a finger, vigorously pokes his belly for a moment, and releases a three-octave belch. He tastefully checks to make sure that he didn’t get any on him, and then continues. “I got a bit of a strategy as to how we are going to get the info we need. It’ll cost us, though. And before you ask, Lizzy, yes, the place may look all upscale and squeaky clean on the outside, but trust me … ” He lifts his bulbous nose to the city in the distance. “There are some seriously sick, treacherous, vile, dastardly murderous ficks in Aramis, believe you me. You two need to be careful when snooping around the Guild District. That reminds me! Regarding our place of restitude tonight – look for a hostel known as the Mondegreen. It was built by some immiNPCs.”

“ImmiNPCs?” FeeTwix chuckles.

“What’s so funny about immigrant NPCs?” asks Hiccup. “And no, I don’t particularly like them here but there’s no way to build a wall to keep them out, so what can we do? We tried holding them back at the borders, but there ain’t no borders, technically, so that plan was a big waste of taxpayer rupees. At least Tritania doesn’t have refugee camps or nothing. Although I will say, refugee camps are great places to meet desperate people, which I particularly like because desperate people are gullible as fick. To be fair, one thing I do like about immiNPCs is that they bring neat stuff from other worlds – guns, candy, games, crazy liquors, smokables. Pretty cool sex toys too. Too much rambling?”

His guildmates nod.

“Anyfickin’hoo, I want you two to get us a room at the Mondegreen before you get to snooping. Got it? Secure our resting place first, then start sniffing around.”

“Why don’t we get the room before we go to Bar Row?”

“Good question, Liz.” Hiccup scratches his ass. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we paint big red targets on our foreheads and walk around in our underpants while announcing to everyone that we’re new in town?”

FeeTwix comes to her defense. “Last I recall, you don’t wear underwear.”

“Too much chafing, especially on a long journey like this. I prefer an extra-husky asbestos jockstrap if the occasion calls for it, but otherwise, go commando, Joe. Dammit! Your commentaries are throwing me off track. Focus, people, focus. Back to the plan: so the Lizard Queen and Marble Nuts – okay, those nicknames won’t work, I’ll keep at it though – book us a room at the Mondegreen and after that, they do a little sneak and peek while Twixy and the most follicularily-enhanced goblin this side of Jatla line our coffers. Of course, we can communicate with each other over the messaging system, so if you do run into trouble, holler at us.”

“Same to you,” Zaena says.

“Good. So that’s the plan. Don’t fick it up, people. Let’s go! It should take us about thirty minutes to get there.”

(0)__(0)

The four Mitherfickers pause at a fork in the road. The path on the right leads to the back entrance of the Guild District; the not-right fork loops around the district and conveniently takes the foot-weary traveler dead-bang to the heart of Bar Row.

“This way, Mitherfickers!” Hiccup valiantly holds his pointer finger in the air. FeeTwix laughs, and shares the goblin’s pose with his followers.

“I swear, Hiccup, you are becoming the most popular member in our guild! I may have you do an ad read soon.”

Hiccup’s eyes practically flash rupee signs. He lowers his finger, slows his pace, and starts speaking to FeeTwix in a low voice about compensation. Zaena stays at the back of the group, silently humming a Thulean tune that Ryuk can’t quite place.

As they take the left path, a medium-sized dragon soars overhead, carrying in its claws a large crate with the EBAYmazon logo seared into the wood. Many of the scales on the beast’s underside have been plucked out, a tell-tale sign that it’s a rescue dragon.

Ryuk watches it pass with his hand on his marble gun just in case.

Before leaving, Dory gave him a gunsyakhai land dragon leather gun belt and holster. There’s a fresh magazine of black marbles in his weapon, and as they continue to walk, Ryuk loads up another magazine full of clear marbles.

The magazines are fairly easy to load. Just pop the marbles in until you have eight. With five magazines, he’ll have to keep at least two with alternating knife marble and black marble combinations. He has also kept his magic slingshot, which hangs from its original holster over his left thigh, just in case a situation calls for it.

Once the magazine is loaded with marbles, it is relatively simple to load and unload it into the weapon. To load, simply stick it in the back and pop it in until it clicks. To unload, press the magazine release that’s located just above the base of the magazine and it pops itself out. He’ll get used to it, and in the future, he should be able to do it very quickly.

The future. Tomorrow he will know how his affairs stand. Tamana is what this journey has been about since the start. Ryuk realizes that there are bigger forces in motion, and soon he’ll have to confront these forces. The ultimate quest. For now the battle takes place in Tritania, but if things go badly it could spread to the real world.

Bar Row is much more impressive than Ryuk remembers it being. In the shadows of the Aramis Towers – the dozen or so dragonscrapers that make up the financial and trading district – Bar Row is a series of high-priced pubs, dirty dive bars, and narcotized nightclubs set along a horseshoe shaped road.

“Where to start, where to start?” Hiccup asks. “He’ll do!” The goblin strolls over to a drunken NPC scout passed out against an overfilled rubbish bin. “Hey, buddy.” He gives the drunk a soft kick. The drunk grumbles, falls to his side, wipes saliva from his lips. He pulls his knees to his chest, leaving one hand with exposed fingers on the dirt. “You don’t happen to have a glass of cold water in your list, do you?” Hiccup asks FeeTwix.

“Nope.”

“Well shit.”

“I can stand him up with my konoshlo,” Zaena offers.

“He’ll just fall down again. Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.” Hiccup drives the heel of his boot down onto the drunk’s fingers and Ryuk cringes at the snap and crackle.

FeeTwix’s eyes flash blue. “Crap, Hiccup! Warn me next time before you do something like that! I got viewers that are very anti-torture.”

“Well, the fickin’ delicate little pussy willows may want to retreat to their safe places for the next little while then, ‘cause that’s how the Mitherfickers roll!” Hiccup turns to Ryuk. “You said we’re doing this my way, right?”

“Right.” Ryuk drops his hand to the grip of his marble gun. One glance around and he relaxes his grip – not a single digital soul seems to give two shits that a goblin is engaged in active felonious assault on a drunk, not even the Aramis Security Force officer less than twenty meters away.

The female officer wears black armor, an elaborate belt with pockets and cuffs of varying size attached, as well as knee-high combat boots with a single spike at the foot. A large crossbow is strapped to her back and a short sword sheathed at her side. The officer turns to them, sees what’s going on, and turns back to her post.

“Why’d you do it!?” the drunken scout cries out. “Those were my … my favorite fingers!”

“Wah wah wah, look buddy, now that I have your attention, I have a question I’d like to ask you.”

“Fuck you and your questions, you filthy goblin!”

“That’s Mr. Filthy Goblin and it’s an easy question.”

“Kiss my inebriated ass!”

Ryuk: This is getting out of hand.

FeeTwix: That’s one way to put it!

Hiccup catches Zaena flash him the ‘wrap it up’ signal as turn to the north. “Time to up the ante.” His small ax takes shape in his hand. “Tell me where the grubbiest, grimiest, good-for-nothing bacchanalian like yourself goes or I’m taking your arm. As you can see,” he taps the edge of his ax against his mechanical arm as he growls, “I could use a new one.”

It only takes a second for the drunk to cry out, “Fine! Fine! I’ll tell you what you need to know!”

(0)__(x)

“Let’s not make torture our guild’s option of first resort,” Zaena says as soon as the others catch up to her.

“I’m not proud of it, Liz,” says Hiccup with an innocuous look on his face, “but it did get us the info we need.”

“Which was?”

“The scummiest, crummiest, seediest, weediest, mankiest, skankiest watering hole isn’t Horace and Pete’s, as it was last year, but is in fact H ‘n’ P’s biggest rival, Barfly’s, which is another place opened by immiNPCs over a decade ago. So that’s where we are heading.”

A group of barbarians on Shire horses parade down the street.

The mean-looking bunch wear sleeveless chainmail robes and horned helms decorated with gold imbroglio and upside down crosses. The four Mitherfickers step to the sidewalk, allowing the group to pass. Their horses snort almost as much as the chiseled men riding them.

“Don’t let those poofters fool you,” Hiccup says, a bit too loudly. “They may have big horses and equally large muscles, but I’d wager even our weakest member – that’s you, Ryuk – could kick their asses.”

“Um, thanks?”

To their right is a roadside Horse Piss stand with a single bench next to it. A half-orc is passed out on the side of the bench closest to the sidewalk; a goblin shorter than Hiccup sits on the other side of the half-orc, greedily enjoying a large platter of dragon wings.

“Hey, that’s my cousin Spew Gorge, the one I was telling you guys about.” He waves at the goblin with a cleft lip. “Hey! Spewy, it’s me!”

The bewhiskered goblin produces a Hyperborean army knife, unfolds the blade and shields his food. “Don’t you dare fickin’ hey me you fick-faced fickwad! You can go fick yourself and the dragon you rode in on!”

“Ah, come on, Spewy. How’s your chalupa by the way?”

The shorter goblin jabs his knife into the air as he bares his yellow teeth. “Fick off, Hiccup!”

“What happened there?” Zaena asks after they have moved on.

Hiccup shrugs. “A long story that involves inbreeding, animal husbandry, and adultery. That’s why he’s so short. The inbred fick. Lost his chalupa too, to an ink shadow, and of course he blames me. Anyway, typical goblin drama. I’ll spare you the deets.”

A thin man wearing a burlap sack for a tunic pushes past them. Flung over his shoulder is a long stick with charred chiup piglets hung by their necks. “Baby-ups, twenty rupees, baby-ups, twenty-rupees!”

A burly berserker with a chubby elf drazel hooked to his arm stops the hogman and requests a piglet. Two street urchins descend upon the food seller just in time to steal the piglet and bolt across the street.

“The drunk said to take a left in the alley just before some place called … ” He scans ahead for a moment. “There! That’s it, Jeer’s Shot Bar.”

Even though it’s late afternoon and the sun is still in the sky, the alley is bathed in eternal twilight as the light is filtered through clotheslines, awnings, and swaths of black fabric slung between the two buildings that create the alley. The pathway is clear, but dried blood crusted between the cobblestones and the gouges and pockmarks in the walls indicate that this particular location is not always this quiet.

“Stay frosty.” FeeTwix’s double-bladed sword appears on his back.

“No weapons.” A doorman the size of a Shire horse steps out of the shadows. His chain mail tunic struggles to contain his over-muscled shoulders, and a pair of knickerbockers and leather shoes curled at the tips complete his stylish ensemble. His face is mangled driftwood, his scowl that of a Jack O’Lantern on the eighteenth of November.

Hands on hips, Hiccup glares up at the man-mountain. “Listen, Pantagruel, we’d be idiots to enter this place unarmed. This is Barfly’s right?”

Damn goblin! Ryuk unholsters his marble gun.

The doorman clears his throat and says in a deep, gritty voice, “I suggest youse guys put your weapons away, or I will put them away for youse, and youse may not approve of my choice of locations.” The big man’s nostrils flare. “The name’s Croc, and if I see or hear about the four of youse doing anything stupid in there … ” He laughs slowly. “Let’s just say youse guys won’t like what happens next.”

Croc Level 99

HP: 7530/7530

ATK: 3899

MATK: 245

DEF: 911

MDF; 1200

LUCK: 108

Level 99? Holy shit!

“We’ll behave,” Ryuk assures him, holstering his weapon. “We are, um, new in town and we heard this is the best place to get Horse Piss.”

Hiccup elbows him and hisses sotto voce, “Let me do the talking!”

“Who told you this was a good place for Horse Piss?” Croc cocks a grizzled eyebrow at him. “Only wankers and editors drink Horse Piss! We don’t allow that shit here.”

Ryuk glances to his guildmates. “Um …”

Croc laughs. “Just fucking wit yaz. We have Horse Piss a-plenty inside. Remember though, no weapons.” He nods to the doorframe and Ryuk suddenly notices a light green glow.

FeeTwix: We can just equip things inside.

Ryuk: Nope. The doorframe is lined with algomagic. I mean, we can try to equip something, but I think the magic will prevent it.

Croc places his hand on the door and it crumbles away, as if it were made of sand. “Nice, huh?” he asks as they step in.

“You got any more tricks up your sleeve?” Hiccup asks.

“Only the ones youse don’t wanna see.” Croc turns back to the alley. “Remember, I’ll be watching.”

The door reforms as soon as the four Mitherfickers are safely inside.

(x)__(x)

In contrast to the poor lighting in the alley, the inside of Barfly’s itself is relatively well-lit by chandeliers hanging above each of the six booths.

Between the booths and the bar is a collection of tables and chairs and at the bar proper, a line of ten stools that look to have been crafted by a damn good blacksmith. There’s a snooker table under a light in the far corner not far from private rooms screened off from the main area by a maroon curtain. A mural of a gritty cityscape reminiscent of 1940s New York is painted on the wall closest to the door.

Above the mirror behind the bar, in a heavy gilded cherubs-and-dragons frame draped in black crepe is a Vallejo-esque painting of a waitress in a black-and-white uniform; all sad sultry smile, Bettie Page bangs and Amy Winehouse eyes.

The dive bar is far from packed; two of the booths have revelers, six boozers sit at the bar, and group of five bards – all pointy beards and double chins with multi-hued overcoats and ruffled cream satin poet shirts – sit at a table in the center.

Behind the bar, an older man in a white shirt and black bowtie polishes a glass goblet with a yellowed rag. His hair is slicked back, his eyebrows in dire need of a good trimming.

“Take a seat, anywhere you’d like,” he calls out to them. He folds his bar rag in half and sticks it out of the back pocket of his pants. Above his head is a framed picture of handwritten lyrics to a song called The Ballad of Busty Gazongas.

“Follow my lead.” Hiccup marches straight up to the bar. He hops up onto a stool and makes a lassoing gesture with his hand. “A shot of drorikh for everyone.”

“You got it,” the bartender says.

FeeTwix: Drorikh?

Ryuk: Fermented dragon’s milk.

Zaena: I grew up drinking this stuff! I hope it is as good down here as it is in Ultima Thule.

“A shot for you too, pal,” Hiccup tells the bartender. “You got a name?”

“Cid. Howzabout you, big spender?”

“Me? Yeah – the name is, um, Hoquet.”

“That’s nice, Umhoquet. And your friends?” The old bartender pulls out a glass jug with a milky substance inside.

“This here is Marbles, Liz, and Swede.”

“Not Ummarbles, Umliz, and Umswede? Sounds to me like a bunch of fake names some asshole would make up,” Cid snorts as he pours out a shot. “But a name’s a name, and I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you pay your tab.”

“That’s us, just a bunch of noobs with fake-sounding but otherwise completely authentic and not-at-all skeevy names who always pay our tabs. Always. Marbles, make yourself useful and start passing out shots.”

Ryuk begrudgingly waits for Cid to pour out several shots of drorikh and place them on a tray. He takes them to a booth of barbarians in the far corner. “From the goblin at the bar,” he tells the suspicious lot.

He returns just in time for the next round to finish being poured. These he takes to the other booth, a booth of druids. FeeTwix takes shots to the bards at the center table and Cid finishes pouring shots for those seated at the bar.

Hiccup stands up on the seat of his bar stool again and raises his shot glass.

“To Empress Thun and the Sage of Gotha!

To Porthos, Aramis, and Athos by way of a flying ship!

To the bottom of the Endless Sea, the top of the clouds, to the frost of Ultima Thule,

To the griffins of Polynya, and the vast fields of Hyperborea!

Aye! Aye! Aye!”

Everyone in the bar raises their shot glass in one hand and beats on the table with other. “Aye! Aye! Aye!”

The drorikh is sour, like the Yakult probiotic drinks they sell at the 7-Elevens in Japan, and Ryuk cringes as it sears its way down his throat. His vision pane flashes to let him know that alcohol could impair his ability to fight, shoot, or run away.

As soon as the shots are finished, one of the Barbarians stands and throws his shot glass to the floor, smashing it into pieces. “Another round!” he announces to the cheers of his compadres.

Cid is two steps ahead. He already has ten shots poured and his working on the next five by the time Ryuk gets to the first tray. Zaena helps him this time, and the two dish out shots until everyone in the bar has one.

The gruff and thickly bearded Barbarian turns a stray chair towards him and places his heavily furred boot upon it. He clears his throat, and in a surprisingly cultured and well-modulated voice, recites:

“Twas the night ‘fore a battle and all through the camp,

The men were scared shitless, the quarters were cramped!”

Others begin to chuckle at the popular poem, including Hiccup and Zaena. The barbarian continues:

“Death road his horse through the black of the night,

He arrived in the morning and gave them a fright!

Had the men had their balls and not shit for brains,

We’d be toasting to them, rather than to death’s name!

Here’s to thee, Death, to thee, to thee!

For shitting on shitbirds like you and me!

For equally treating the rich and the poor,

For taking our lives and evening the scores!

Death comes to all who are bless-ed to breathe!

To him, and to her, and to you, and to me!

Aye! Aye! Aye!”

“Aye! Aye! Aye!”

Everyone takes a shot and one of the bards flicks his shot glass to the floor, shattering it to pieces. The stocky bard stands and sings the words, “Rounds for everyone!”

Ryuk wipes his mouth. He looks to FeeTwix, who has his arm around Zaena and a stupid grin on his face.

Hiccup tugs on his sleeve and Ryuk bends to him. “Before you ask,” he whispers, “It’s a drinking game called Boaster Toaster. Someone starts the toast, and whoever is around has to also make a toast until everyone has done so, that, or the one of the people drinking passes out, whichever comes first.”

“I see.”

“The only other way to lose is to not drink or pass out. If you don’t drink, you are forced to take all the shots for the next round, and by forced I mean someone will cram a bottle of drorikh up your ass and hold you upside down until it’s all gone. You see that guy over there?” Hiccup uses his nose to point to a bucculent mimbo with manboobs. He sits at the very last bar stool, swaying like the top of a palm in a light breeze. “Fatty’s our guy; he’s just about sauced enough to let his words spill easy.”

“You think he knows something?” Ryuk asks. FeeTwix steps around him, off to carry shots to the druids in the far booth.

Hiccup switches to instant message system.

Hiccup: Do you see the griffin logo on his back? That’s the emblem of the Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service.

Ryuk: How do you know all this?

Hiccup: Are you setting me up to say, I drink and I know things? Because if you are, I’m not saying it. Just because I’m short, of questionable character and indifferent hygiene, yet somehow one of the most important characters in this shared narrative of ours doesn’t mean you should compare me to Tyrion Lannister. And seriously, can’t the commoners in Tritania get some other fantasy references?

Ryuk: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Hiccup: Sure ya don’t, kiddo. Any fickin’hoo, that’s our mark. He’ll tell us where in the Guild District the Shinigami are staying. Mark my words.

The bard takes a small Ocarina flute from a string around his neck. He blows into producing a single, mid-range note, takes a deep breath, and begins:

“For I’m a jolly good fellow,

For he’s a jolly good fellow,

For we are jolly good fellows,

That no drunkard can deny!

That no drunkard can deny!

That no drunkard can deny!

We are jolly good fellows,

We are jolly good fellows,

We are jolly good fellows,

That no drunkard can deny!

Aye! Aye! Aye!”

“Aye, aye, aye!”

Ryuk gives Hiccup a queasy look. He’s gotten wasted in Tritania before and oddly enough, it gave him a splitting headache when he logged out.

“Tie your shoe, Marbles.”

“My what?”

“Shoes.”

“They don’t have laces. I’m wearing boots.”

“Bend forward, you idiot.” Hiccup hisses. Ryuk bends over and the goblin swiftly palms his shot, throws it back, and places the empty shot glass back in his hand. He claps Ryuk on the back. “Don’t say I never did nothing for you.”

A shot glass smashes on the floor, the shards of which bounce off Ryuk’s feet.

“Another round!” Zaena announces, a single finger held high.

Cid the bartender starts pouring out another round and as he does, the mark Hiccup pointed out earlier begins to wobble. He drops his head onto the bar, picks it up, rolls his neck back all in an attempt to keep from falling.

Hiccup claps his hands together. “Fick yeah, Ryuk, it looks like we’re just one shot away from scoring bigly.”

As FeeTwix hands more shots to the barbarians and druids in the back, Hiccup again climbs the bar stool and quickly speaks to Cid. The bartender nods, points to the private room in the back, and returns to pouring shots.

“Good to go,” the goblin tells Ryuk once he rejoins him. “Keep your toast short, Liz. We got places to go and people to interrogate.”

Zaena raises her shot glass and cries out in a throaty, melodic trill. Her throat turns red as she continues to warble. A quick glance around and Ryuk sees that several of the burlier men in the bar now openly shed tears. He looks to Hiccup to find him holding his hand over his heart. The Thulean continues for just a moment longer, stops, and bows.

“Takha bae bitakh novlaa rakh Aya Bortaetae;

Huborakha, Polonkhya, Hutamae Dulekh.”

The goblin says without looking away. “It’s an ode to the three floating continents of Tritania.”

Zaena raises her shot glass to her lips and before she throws it back she cries, “Aye! Aye! Aye!” in a high pitched voice.

“Aye! Aye! Aye!” Everyone tosses back their shot, including Ryuk who is so swept up in the strangely magical moment that he doesn’t see Hiccup’s patsy slide off his barstool and crack his noggin on the floor.

Everyone cheers at the sight of the fallen man and as quickly as it started, the drinking game known as Boaster Toaster is over.

Chapter 18: A tendril of white magic

Zaena and Ryuk exit Barfly’s, both a bit tipsy. The Mitherfickers have the info they need, mostly through Hiccup’s ingenious yet pricy strategy of interrogating the drunk by offering him an off-world bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

It’s the Hour of the Pig, and the moon is hardly visible tonight. A slight moisture in the air signals an overnight shower to come, the vibrant buzz a sign that nightlife has begun. The streets of Bar Row are crowded with revelers of all classes, their universal struggle with dipsomania playing out in a few of the more absonant tipplers, most of whom are NPCs.

“You sure they’ll be all right?” Zaena asks.

Ryuk pulls his black hood over his head and shields his eyes. “Hiccup said that the bards were just paid. In my country, payday is one of the more popular days for drinking; many lose enough money that they are forced to borrow from EZ-PWNED payday loan sharks to make it to the next payday.”

Zaena snickers. “It doesn’t sound too different from here in that regard.”

“It really isn’t. I told myself I’d trust Hiccup, so we’ll see if that’s a mistake or not. What we have to do is … a lot more challenging.”

He feels something land on his shoulder. He turns to see Zaena a few meters away.

Known as ‘konoshlo’ in Thulean, he slowly removes her ghost limb, feeling for the first time that the end of the limb is very similar to a bird’s talon. Why do they call them limbs when they clearly have talons? It shrinks away before he can examine it any longer.

“How do they work anyway?” Ryuk has never been to clear on the Thulean’s ghost limbs aside from their origins.

“You really don’t know?” she stares at him suspiciously for a moment. “Come here, I’ll show you.”

As he approaches, she turns her back to him. They are still in the alley that leads to Barfly’s and he can see the Croc the doorman watching them from his stool next to the door.

“Are you sure?”

“Touch them.”

The chainmail armor on her back has two slits woven into it. Jutting out of the two slits are two small stumps that are completely invisible.

“Interesting,” he says as his hand cross moves across the relatively smooth surface. The stump on the left comes to life, forming three talons as it extends out of her back.

“And they can go three times the length of your body?”

Her short bob of orange hair bounces as she nods.

“What about their strength?”

They land onto Ryuk’s shoulder and lift him about a meter into the air.

“Whoa!” They quickly drop him back to the ground. “Very, um, interesting.”

“They can get in the way sometimes,” Zaena admits as she takes the lead, “but only if I let them.”

The two exit the alley and follow the horseshoe all the way to the end of the Bar Row. Avoiding drunks, thugs, muggers, stragglers, and thieves is the name of the game, and they do so by moving quickly, keeping their heads up and their weapons at the ready. Ryuk still hasn’t used his marble gun in battle, but he has a feeling this will come very soon.

He first had the idea back in the bar, when they were again rehashing tonight’s plan over another round of fermented dragon’s milk, this one courtesy of the house after Hiccup forked over a quarter of their net worth for the off-world bottle of Jack.

Rescue Tamana tonight, was his thought, and now, as they move towards the Guild District, Ryuk feels emboldened by the idea, no matter how dangerous it may be and regardless of the fact that the alcohol has lowered his inhibitions and boosted his courage.

We need to do this tonight.

It is the only way forward, and even though his plan is no more elaborate than ‘rescue Tamana,’ it feels like the right thing to do. He just needs to figure out how to propose it to Zaena.

“There’s the back entrance for the Guild District,” Zaena says, after they’ve made their way down the long and winding road that leads to the trees on the city’s perimeter. “Hiccup said that the Mondegreen Hostel is along the Bonsor River, east of the back entrance.”

With his hood over his head, Ryuk suddenly feels bigger and more intimidating than he has ever felt before. Even his dream armor goes around it, allowing for the hood to peek out of the top. Which reminds him – if FeeTwix and Hiccup can actually come out ahead tonight, he’ll need to get a helm, as much as he hates wearing them. Or he could just keep to the back, and let his guildmates man the frontlines.

Maybe I’ll just do that after all, a slingshot is supposed to be used with some range.

Zaena’s ghost limb brushes against his shoulder. “Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?”

“That’s a pretty accurate way to put it.” He stops in front of a guildhall with a door that opens to the street. A pair of bracket-mounted crystal balls glow with thaumaturgic energy, illuminating the guild’s nameplate. “The drorikh is clouding my thoughts.”

“Tell me anyway, what are you thinking about?”

“If I tell you, will you promise to actually consider it before telling me ‘no’?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, of course. Any time the quietest one in any group speaks, I tend to listen more carefully. It’s something my tutor always said to do. What’s up? What’s on your mind?” She settles her orange slit eyes on him.

Ryuk bites his lip for a moment and feels the confidence spread through him as he says, “You and I will rescue Tamana tonight, alone.”

(0)__(0)

Ryuk sits down onto his bed and takes out the three magazines he still needs to load with marbles. The four-story Mondegreen Hostel is run by an immiNPC named Jim. Their room is on the first floor, a secret room with an entrance through a bookcase in the lobby. The hostel was otherwise full, and Jim offered it to them at the low, low price of double.

He presses black marbles into the magazine, watching as Zaena equips a few blades and lays them out on her bed.

“We should tell them.” A belt studded with small sheaths forms around her waist and she loads it with throwing knives. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“If we tell them, FeeTwix and Hiccup will rush over here and join us. I’m not saying we don’t need them, but we will completely lose the element of surprise with those two around. Look – I’m a former ninja and you’re an assassin; who better to infiltrate a guildhall? Think about it.”

“I did, and like I told you, I’m in.” A wolfish smile lifts Zaena’s pointed ears.

Ryuk finishes loading black marbles into the magazine, returns it to his inventory list, and takes an empty magazine, which he also loads with black marbles. He returns it to his list and grabs the last magazines, which he alternates with black and knife marbles.