Play Testers Wanted Pt. 23

'Left?'

'Yeah,' he replied. 'Smart move going silent. What's up?'

'I've been thinking. What if the Ravens hacked the game and placed the coordinates for me to find?'

'Why would they do that? What do they get out of it?'

'We've run into assassins along the way. Remember how they reacted when I mentioned the Black Decade? They both turned cold instantly. Maybe, this is a hunch; what if whoever set up the contract did so using the Ravens. They used a code name or something instead of my name. If the Ravens are such big fans, would they have accepted a hit targeting me?'

'I see your logic,' Left said. 'Then it is likely the next two champions are assassins, and this is just business for the twins.'

'Think of the ratings if they got my death on camera,' I said, and Left remained silent. 'I suspected as much. One of the benefits of consolidation, but I haven't surrendered. Still, we are in some pretty deep shit, if I am right. Five down, five to go.'

I slipped into a meditative trance and focused my energies on healing. Time slipped by without me consciously measuring it. The creaking sound of rusty wheels roused me, and I opened my eyes. A uniformed female of a non-human species gestured at three containers for me to choose my reward for winning the first conflict. Her body's composition had a basic human shape with two arms, two legs, and a head, with the rest utterly alien. Her exposed flesh, of which there was much, was the color of ripe tangerines. The female's head reminded me of an octopus and a jellyfish blend. A ring of eight eyes formed a circle around the upper portion of her skull, while everything below it formed a mass of tentacles and squirming cilia.

"What do you think? Can you identify these things?" I asked Left.

"Ask if you can open the boxes before choosing," he suggested. I asked the female, and she pointed to the two boxes and nodded, but the inky black cylinder was a no-no. "Open them up, and let's take a gander." The cylinder shook on its own, which inspired Left to launch into a story spontaneously. "Back in my day Atlantis and the Osirians allied against an invader from an unfriendly dimension. The vast numbers of foreign soldiers compared to ours forced the powers that be to utilize genetic warfare. The historians called it the Symbiot War. It lasted decades until that alien dimension no longer aligned with the Earthly plane."

"What kind of symbiotes were used?"

"A squishy amorphous thing would bond to its host and provide various benefits depending upon the user's rank. Field grunts were given the least evolved, and while they kept the soldier alive far longer than they could have hoped for, the sharing turned lethal in the end. The symbiote consumed its host from the inside out. The officers received the rare truly sentient units with reactive properties and limited shapeshifting abilities."

"Sounds like my suit from the Marvel side of things," I said. "Did the enemy host parasites too?"

"That is what forced us to create ours in the first place. The invaders had hard, genetically engineered exoskeletons that resisted mundane weapons. They introduced the concept, and we perfected it. Apply enough force, and anything will break."

"A young tree bends in the wind," I said.

"Exactly. Ultimately, we locked away the symbiotes we could remove after the war for everyone's sake. Wearing them could be addictive. We designed them to pump various chemicals into their host to keep them alert and happy. Not all the hosts had their partners removed voluntarily, and withdrawal symptoms could include madness and death. The one in the tube could be fully aware, and I'd take a pass if I were you."

"Agreed. What about these other two?"

"Now, let's see what we have here. Ooh, an Ithloss torc that is as rare as hen's teeth. The Ravens aren't being stingy with their rewards. The process of creating and forging Ithloss is a lost art. The alloy is extraordinarily light and sturdy as hell. Who knows what powers it might possess."

I opened the second box, and Left whistled as I lifted a bright blue vambrace and examined it.

"Dracosite, an alloy distilled from the essence of an elder dragon. Highly frowned upon in most polite societies and could mark you as an enemy to rulers and commoners alike. Only a few people might be able to awaken the powers inside of it, so it is your call."

"I'd prefer a matching pair," I said. "What are the odds of finding its mate?"

"You are assuming there is one, but many of my brethren forged or commissioned our blacksmiths to craft single bracers of great power or as lore keepers. Before you ask, because of our extremely long lives, saving vital memories, spells, alchemical formulae, and the like within such a device was necessary. If the serpent's words were true, others must have tried and failed to remove the vambrace from the pool. Even a mediocre electrical shock in that environment would deter the most zealous treasure hunter."

"Did it accept you or me?" I asked, and I felt genuine confusion from Left. "Perhaps we'll learn further down the road."

The symbiote threw itself against the walls of the cylinder. It seemed determined to reach me. Had Left bonded with one in his past? If so, could this be the same one?

"I set my other half free after the war. It was an unpopular decision, but rank has its privileges."

"That thing in the tube is getting restless; best to pick and leave soon. I'll accept the torc; besides, a little bling never hurt anyone," I said.

The torc bent just enough to let it around my neck. Once in place, it became rigid and lent me a sense of comfort. The female pushed the cart away, and I feared the symbiote would free itself from the cylinder at any moment. I dressed for the second conflict, meditated to center myself, and strode onto the killing ground. A part of me suspected the next two champions were decade assassins and that this was a fight to the death despite what the crowd believed.

"Let's fuck some shit up," I growled as I took my spot.

The crowd greeted me with a roar of approval. The announcer hyped the next challenge, and this time the elevator didn't struggle to raise the second challenge. The humanoid figure bowed once and then launched itself at me. Only a desperate sidestep saved me from a brutal end. I drew the sword, and my foe paused and regarded me stoically. It raised its arms level with its shoulders, and a soft metallic hiss preluded his appendages, splitting apart and transforming into metallic tentacles. Where it had once possessed two arms, it now had six pseudopods.

"Aw shit, one survived!" Left cursed aloud. "Move, get some distance between us and that thing." I raced sideways, keeping the champion in my line of sight. "It is a Mark IX War Droid. The Hyperboreans decommissioned them after the Battle of Salerno. A flaw in their programming drove them bat-shit crazy. They have multiple processors scattered throughout their chassis. The thing is damned hard to destroy."

Maintaining space between the killer droid and myself was difficult while working out a strategy. My sword formed a defensive shield as the tentacles lashed out to impale me. Whatever material the robot was composed of was a match for my blade.

'May I be of service?' Surfer asked, sending a surge of hope through me.

'Yes, you may,' I said.

If she could, it would take time for Surfer to infiltrate the droid's systems. I had to give her that time and keep the thing's attention focused. I went on the offensive. My sudden charge surprised the war droid momentarily. It allowed me to land two critical blows before it switched to defense. The first strike penetrated the lower central cavity while the second hit where a human's heart would be. There was the briefest faltering in the machine's activities, and I suspected my sword had struck one of its central processors. I wound up for a third attack as it switched over, but even as my blade fell, all six tentacles crossed in the front, effectively blocking my attempt to destroy another node.

'Energy weapon,' Left warned.

I rolled away and instinctively raised my left arm in a shielding gesture. The particle beam weapon struck the vambrace and reflected towards the crowd. A defensive screen kept the public safe, and the crowd roared in approval when it hit--the prismatic effect made for one hell of a light show. I almost missed the runes that appeared momentarily across the surface of the bracer. They faded as quickly as they emerged.

"Ash nazg durbartuluk," I sang as the effect reminded me of when Frodo tossed the one ring into his fireplace.

"Unfamiliar spell configuration," the droid replied.

'Fear inspires heroics,' Left said. 'Why are you quoting Lord of the Rings?'

'The laser revealed the bracer's runes,' I said as I returned to a defensive posture. "Have at you, villain."

"Destroy the Booker," the war droid intoned. "This unit requires maintenance."

"I told you, he's a decade assassin."

"Yes, they chose me to fulfill your contract," the droid admitted.

"So, there aren't ten set assassins?" I asked as we went back and forth between attacking and defending.

"No, the Black Decade is a tradition, not an organization. The contractor offers up the assignment. This process takes time and money."

"I wasn't the original target then," I said, and the droid confirmed my flash of insight.

"You are correct. Nicholas Shaw was the primary target, and the guild selected you as a secondary target with his death."

"Lovely," I said, and so it became crystal clear.

This plan had been in the development process for years. A member of the Order of Chthon had placed the contract on Nick, and then it defaulted to me. Six green icons appeared in my field of view, and I assumed that Surfer had marked the remaining processors. My attack became a new priority as my blade sought out those targets.

"Do glasses make a girl sexier?" I asked, and the war droid faltered as it tried to wrap its head around my question. It was long enough for me to penetrate its defenses and score a sold hit on a node.

"Bastard," the robot cursed. "How did you know where to attack?"

"Pi divided by zero," I replied, and its photoreceptors turned crimson.

A slashing tentacle sliced through my cuirass and left a laceration behind. It was the droid's turn to mark a clean hit. Unlike the droid, I felt pain, and it would slow me down. The right side tentacles fused into a minigun and opened fire. Once again, I raised my left arm defensively, and the bracer glowed this time, and a circular energy shield blocked the projectiles. I rushed forward and body-slammed the war droid attempting to destabilize it. The robot managed to dig its feet into the ground. We were so close. How could I miss it?

"Die motherfucker," I screamed as the sword scored another direct hit on a processor.

"Retreat," Left urged, and I dodged the frantic lashing out by the droid. "Defense."

Instinctively I raised the bracer, and most of the energy was absorbed, and the runes appeared and remained visible this time. One of the beams reflected and hit the side of the robot's head. Two green icons turned yellow; Surfer was still at work sabotaging my enemy. The droid became desperate and launched grenades, firing the minigun and various energy weapons. I crossed the sword and bracer in front of me, and a synergetic effect managed to stop most of the attacks though not all. Shrapnel from one of the grenades lashed my leg, and a few stray bullets nicked my arms.

"Now or never, can you move?" Left asked.

I charged the droid with a roar of rage and slashed, cut, and stabbed until I destroyed every processor. My knees failed, and I knelt on the sand. Spurts of blood stained the ground as I fought to remain conscious. I planted the sword and leaned against it.

"Booker is victorious," the announcer declared, and my last memory was cheering from the crowd.

The dream of floating was like so many before it. A warm life-sustaining fluid supported my body as I hovered weightlessly. Was I back inside the damn tank? No!

"Be at peace, Duskwalker. I mean you no harm. Your wounds are grievous and need my attention," a female voice urged. "The machine damaged several arteries, veins, and internal organs during your conflict."

I saw cloud-piercing crystalline spires that glittered like moonbeams. Strange and exotic plants and animals surrounded the city walls. Within those walls, tall, athletic shapes of the Duskwalkers and Atlanteans strode leisurely along the curving walkways that climbed in and around the buildings they had crafted with great care. The ghost lines pulsed with the life of the city and its citizens. Without it, the people would perish, and their culture would turn to ash. I watched the color drain out of the landscape and wither before my eyes. A people and society that had endured millennia now lay like grains of sand upon the beach.

"You cannot stand against the hand of fate," Left said. "We preserved what we could, and an upstart stole our accomplishments, and for what?"

His presence within the dream had a soothing effect as he reminisced one moment and chastised a dead man the next.

"You are talking about Nick."

"Yes, a thief and a liar who robbed the dead and took credit for everything."

I drifted away after that to scenes of high sorcery and torrid affairs with females from across a dozen dimensions. The near-human 'wenches,' as Left remembered them, ranged from commoner to Empress alike. His cock had no conscience, and he left behind ruined lives and females craving his return. Gods, what an ego. His escapades covered every romance trope from a farmer's daughters to swinging through an open window into a lady's bed-chamber via grappling hook and rope. As I healed, Left regaled me with his exploits, and whether fanciful or true, they were entertaining.

"Remember, lad, never let the truth get in the way of a good story."

"There are five Duskwalkers out there," I thought suddenly.

"Six if they separate us," Left corrected me. "They won't do that, though; five is bad enough, but if they allow me to regenerate, they face a fully trained mage of the first circle."

"The Ghost Lines are waking up, aren't they?"

"Yes, Booker, the cycle is starting again, and the world will never be the same."

"If you choose to go your separate way, I won't try to stop you. You have been a dear friend and deserve to live your life on your terms."

"Not just yet; I am afraid of what I will become if I gain my freedom."

"Timelord victorious," I chuckled.

"You and your pop culture references. Please show me."

I shared the memory of a Doctor Who episode where a companionless Doctor crosses the line and defies the laws of his people to save one woman from certain destruction. The moral of the story, without a mundane influence, an influential figure can lose their perspective, and even if the cause is just the means of going about it could be devastating.

"You hit the nail on the head. I fear my skills and abilities. If left to my desires, I would rebuild our race and find a home for us. I'm not sure the multiverse is ready for a return of the Duskwalkers."

"We'll see what fate has in store for us."

"Us, I like the sound of that."

The dreams shifted, and I became the Sorcerer Supreme, including the Eye of Agamotto, arcane gestures, and summoning invocations. Alliteration seemed the key to Stan Lee's magic system and naming conventions. For example, the Crimson Bands of Cytorrak or the dire demons of Denak that Doctor Strange summoned in the comics. I enjoyed dreams like that, especially when I may or may not survive the treatment. Worse case, I thought, they could clone me again and again. Would there ever be an end to it? Maybe I should perish and surrender to fate. The anger blossomed deep inside, and I remembered my dad and how he drilled into me how precious life was. Only a coward gives up when things become difficult.

"No, I will not give up!"

The darkness of sleep enveloped me, and the aches and pains from my conflict slowly faded. I drifted in a sea of nothingness while my flesh knit and cells regenerated. No images, no sounds, no smells, which was fine.

"Oh my god, it's you," the girl squealed. "And you are naked, woo, look at that."

My eyes snapped open, and I sat up. The busty blonde looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. She wore a bright blue kimono that complimented her eyes perfectly. I especially liked how her tits practically spilled out of the silk folds.

"How did you get in here?"

"I blew the guard. It wasn't easy, I can tell you. His cock was freaking huge, but you'd expect that from a minotaur. He wanted to fuck me, but I was like, no way you'd tear me up, and he was like, come on, babe. Guys are so pushy, but I dropped down and sucked him off like a pro to see you. Do they give out licenses for that sort of thing?"

"Fellatioist."

"Huh?"

"The term is fellatioist, someone who sucks cock."

"Well, I am a card-carrying fell... um... cocksucker."

"I believe you," I said as I shifted and let my legs dangle off the side of the bed. Where was the cylinder? What was I floating in, if not one of those water tanks?

"I am your biggest fan. Can I suck you off, take a few pics?"

"I don't know. I have a reputation to protect. What if all those other fans saw a picture of my cock buried to the hilt down your throat? You can deepthroat, right?"

"Damn straight, that minotaur had his balls resting on my chin. Good enough?"

"That sure paints an interesting image in my head. What's your name?"

"Solstice Summerwind."

I was about to give in and follow my hormones when I remembered the reptilian assassin. This offer was probably a bad idea. So far, only the Osirian hadn't been out to kill me. Solstice was an unknown and potentially dangerous.

"No thanks, kid," I said.

"That's not like you."

"Well, I have faced off against three Black Decade assassins today. Don't take this wrong, but I can't afford to trust you."

"Do I look like an assassin?"

Solstice untied the robe and let it fall to the ground; she was physically fit, built like a gymnast or professional dancer, and could be concealing weapons under her soft, sultry skin.

"Nah, you are gorgeous, but I can't take the chance you are a cyborg, shapeshifter, or who knows what. A blowjob isn't worth the risk."

"Have Surfer scan me if you want. Jeez, Booker, everyone knows about your AI. The medical equipment is all around us. Let her tie in and do a deep tissue examination."

"She is correct," Surfer said. "I can perform a live feed so you can see the results in real-time."

"No doctor-client confidentiality?" Solstice asked.

"None, I am not a doctor, and you are a credible threat."

"Scan Solstice and display your findings via hologram," I said.

Surfer wasted no time slicing the medical equipment's poor security. Solstice stood still as the disk-shaped device floated down and quickly learned Soltice's secret. Her talents could no longer hide her true nature.

"Damn, brain with four hemispheres, two hearts and advanced cardiovascular system, hollow bones, heightened musculature, and connective tissue... you are a Duskwalker."

"You took a big chance coming here," Left said.

"I have my reasons, mostly monetary. A girl has to eat, you know. Now that you know, can I blow you?" Solstice asked. "I have fans to impress. They believe I'm just a human media influencer. If I am to make a buck, I need to suck."

"Give me your camera, and I'll snap a few shots while you work."

I guess even a Duskwalker has to make a living. Instead of a watch or smartphone, Solstice tossed me a small metallic sphere about the size of a ping pong ball. I touched the small blue crystal, which hovered between Solstice and me. The drone's shape, clean lines, and overall design mirrored the droids I had created in-game.