2178
June 17
Relar:
St. Lucia
***
Mission: (Rank A) Defeat twenty crimson wolves.
Requirement: A group of four players.
Reward: 25,000 gold. Reputation points received depend on contribution. 250 points per wolf killed.
***
In the midst of the forest, surrounded by tropical foliage, Chris Bessett stood in front of a cave with three others. The entrance was blocked by a black door. He did not know the other boys. He had simply run into them while searching for a quest, and they had asked him to be their last party member. Camera drones hovered around them. Chris could hear the whirring of their helicopter-like blades, but he didn't see them as they had activated their stealth function and wore the colors of their surroundings as camouflage.
He surveyed the rest of his party. Two of the boys were middle-class. There was a tall, dark-skinned man with a deep, husky voice. His black hair was kept short and wavy. He introduced himself as Dar. Next to him stood a short Chinese boy, skinny fat with a protruding belly. Qin Ju. His black eyes hid behind a pair of rectangular- framed glasses. Their leader, Sebastian, was a confident rich kid form Almir Private Academy.
He had gorgeous blonde locks that would fill any woman with envy, and dark, watchful, green eyes. His skin, like everyone else's, had tanned from the island's constant stream of sunny days. He smiled at Chris, "Where are you from?"
"George Gladwin's."
"Ah, so upper class then? I couldn't tell by the way you dressed," Sebastian said— he wore a brown leather jacket and jeans from an expansive brand. Sunglasses hung from the neck of his shirt.
Chris said, "I dress in whatever makes me comfortable." He was wearing a simple white 'T' and khaki shorts. He never liked to show off and liked being what he had termed 'silently rich'. He was the sort of guy that could blend into his surroundings without standing out. Looking at him, it would be easy to label him as middle class. Someone you didn't see the need to fear, nor take advantage of.
The humidity made his skin hot and clammy. All four boys were covered in sweat. Their only savior was the tall palm and cedar trees that provided some shade. There were smaller plants as well, like ferns and juniper shrubs with plump blue berries. The golden sun waited above them, a fiery sphere in the blue expanse. Chris rubbed the back of his neck that was being harassed by the fierce heat it gave off. The three strangers carried swords, while Chris wielded a handgun. He was a good marksman, so he wasn't worried about them turning against him.
Sebastian said, "Fair enough. Well, I'm the leader of the group, so give a shout if you need anything."
"Alright."
An announcer's voice came out of a speaker nearby, "Are you guys ready?"
"Yes," said Sebastian with a grin on his face.
The announcer said, "Gate opens in 3...2...1...."
The gate was sucked into a rectangular opening in the floor. There was a flash of red fur, fangs and claws as twenty wolves poured out of the narrow hole. Chris remained at ease as he hid behind a tree and lowered himself to one knee, so he could quickly roll out of the way if they charged at him. He aimed for the skull. The bullet tore through the brain of the nearest wolf. Then, he quickly took out five more. The boys were fighting well with their swords, slitting throats and stabbing organs like it was second nature to them.
A big wolf with a hole in its left ear bared its teeth at Chris and growled. It launched itself off the ground and threw itself at him, forearms outstretched. The ghastly yellow teeth closed in on his head. Chris threw himself to the ground and as the wolf passed over his head; he shot it twice in its chin and neck. Blood splattered Chris' shirt and face but he ignored it.
The wolf shrank away from him, bleeding profusely but circling its prey as it waited for a chance. Chris jackknifed to his feet, pistol pointing at its opponent.
The wolf in front of him must have been the boss. Though it was bleeding from its chin and neck; it continued to stand its ground. Chris smiled. He respected the guy even if he had to kill it. There was a gold key hanging around its neck. A special reward. Chris aimed at its head. The wolf lurched forward and he fired. The bull tore through its skull. It fell, dead, fresh blood and bits of brain matter pouring out of the hole in its head. Its yellowed eyes continued to stare at him as it lay on the grass. It left a strange sensation, like it wasn't truly dead and would soon get up and fight. He pitied the poor creature. The game's administrators had locked it in a cage till it was time for it to fight. Once it was released, it ran into the blades of whatever enemy wanted to kill it.
He placed a hand on its neck, feeling its warmth, then after a silent prayer, he lifted its head and removed the chain with the key. There was probably a box in the cave waiting for him.
Sebastian laughed. "The quest gave us a key, did it? Thanks, mate." He plucked the chain from Chris' fingers. "I'll go check what this opens."
If Chris were anyone else, he would have started a fight, but that was not his purpose. He didn't agree to participate for the sake of temporary pleasure. He let it go. But someone else did Not. Dar blocked the cave's entrance, saying, "And why do you get the key?"
Sebastian told him, "I'm the leader."
"A leader should share with his people; don't you think so Quinn?" said Dar.
Qin Ju stood behind Sebastian, blocking his exit. They all drew their swords; there was the sound of metal dragging across metal as the blood-stained swords left their scabbards. Chris didn't leave. He ducked behind a line of trees, slowing retreating down the hill. He hid beneath a small bush, and peered up at the cave's entrance where the boys where bound to fight. Relar was inspired by the gladiator games back in ancient Greece. They pushed players to their limits mentally and physically. But one of the reasons people signed up for the games was that the governments excused any crime they committed within the three months they played the game. They could kill, rape, steal and not be held responsible for it by law.
It made for good TV.
It was the one time in a teenager's life that they could do anything they want to do without fear of legal repercussions. It was what Chris and his friends signed up for the games to rally against. A lot of politicians backed the freedom of participants; but a lot of the victims and victims' families wanted the games to change. Chris would change the game.
Sebastian said, "You bastards are going to fight me? I bought you clothes, food, lodging and you're going to point your swords at me? You ungrateful little fucks."
Dar said, "If you hand over the key—" Sebastian moved quickly. He pushed his sword through Dar's abdomen and twisted the blade to widen the wound, then pushed him to the ground where he bled to death. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. Chris felt it covering his skin. He felt that a million showers would never wash off all the blood that soaked his flesh. He knew that once Sebastian was done with them, he would turn to Chris.
Chris secured himself behind a wide tree trunk and leaned to one side to continue watching.
Dar's sword fell through his limp fingers and Sebastian picked it up and pointed it at Qin. He said, "Well? Are you with him or with me?"
Qin trembled then said, "You. I would never betray you."
"Right."
There was a flash of silver across Qin's throat. Blood gurgled at the back of his mouth. Sebastian kicked his chest, and he fell backwards, rolling down the hill. "Lying bastard."
Chris pulled back his head and stayed perfectly in line with the tree.
There was a pause, Chris imagined Sebastian searching the forest for him. A moment later, there was the sound of retreating footsteps as Sebastian entered the cave to search for his treasure.
***
Chris went over the plan in his head. He had rehearsed it outside the games and now it was time for them to do it in real life. He sat on his bed. Camera drones hovered near his head. He was in a nice room; he had secured a house for himself with the money fans had sent him online that was deposited to his in-game account. Chris had also earned quite a bit through completing quests. Relar had its own bank that created accounts for each of their players to use during the tournament. The money earned could be converted to real currency once the player had completed the game. Satin curtains covered the wall-to-ceiling windows with a view of the crescent-shaped beach. His phone buzzed as he received texts from a group of friends who were also playing the game.
Aaron: Thirty minutes to D-time.
Sally: I just finished my quests. Told my fans I would be broadcasting something special soon and they should stay tuned. <3
David: Time to slay Goliath.
Kevin: Good luck guys; can't wait to see what Lanc does. Let's all go on at the same time. No one chicken out, you hear?
Bello: I'm pretty sure you're the most likely to chicken out.
Kevin: Eh? No way. I'm a hell of a lot braver than you.
Chris smiled and locked his phone screen. He didn't think what he was doing was super dangerous. He was simply fighting against an unjust cause. They had a right to free speech, didn't they? He opened the bedside table drawer and took out a letter he had written to his little brother. Gregory Bessett. He stuffed it into his back pocket. To the camera it simply looked like rolled up brown paper. For all they knew, it could be a tiny treasure map. But inside the letter was a card with his brother's name and address.
***
The grocery store was a few blocks down the street. The walk took a total of eight minutes from Chris' house. The shelves were filled with produce as the game got weekly shipments. Two NPs (Non-players) worked they cash registers; they were people who had signed up to provide services the players needed. There was even a tent hospital for injured players, although most patients died of severe injuries before they got the attention they needed.
Chris strolled past the trolleys and down a random aisle. He picked up a box of peppermint tea and chose the first checkout area. He pulled the rolled-up letter that was folded in half out of his pocket and kept it in his palm— out of view of two drones following him. Players weren't allowed to have contact with the outside world. He could get kicked off the island if they found out. The game's participants were given a phone that allowed them to contact other players but that was all. He opened the box a smidge and slid the letter inside. During the first few weeks, Chris had learned that Jun would send mail to the outside world for a hefty price. If things went south, Chris wanted his brother to know the true story of what happened today and not the lies Relar would surely produce. And he wanted his brother to know that he loved him and their parents.
He placed the tea box on the conveyer belt. Jun studied his body language and figured out that something was in it. He removed it from the belt and made a show of checking for damages, slipping the letter out and palming it as he did so without the cameras catching him.
Jun said, "I'll take eleven hundred flat. It's in excellent condition. No scratches or tears. Well-packaged, I would say."
Chris clucked his tongue then muttered, "What a hefty price for one box of tea."
Jun smiled. He was of Malaysian descent. His long hair was pulled into an oily ponytail. His gaze was pointed as he said, "It's a rare delicacy." Ever so subtly, he lowered his hand to the pocket of his green apron and dropped the letter inside.
Chris sent the money to Jun's phone.
Jun said, "Pleasure doing business with you. We've got some more boxes of tea coming in later tonight. You can pick more up in the morning."
Chris said, "I'm having a lot of friends coming over later. Could you gather tea from somewhere else and have it delivered to my place in ten minutes."
Jun stroke his beard. "It'll cost you more, I'll have to check the shipment schedules for various shops to see if any is expecting something by boat in ten minutes. And you want a hundred boxes of tea?" Jun said; his annoyance reflected in his dark eyes.
Most stores would have a few dozen in stock. To get the letter onto a boat; they would need an excuse to visit the dock. Since shipments normally came in at night for this store; they would need a good excuse to check another store's newly-arrived packages, like they had received a ridiculous order from some bossy, rich player who wanted the tea immediately. "Make it a hundred and fifty," said Chris, wondering what he would do with that many boxes of tea. He hoped Jun's guys would be able to find someone willing to take the letter back or this would be a giant waste of funds.
Jun sighed and said, "A hundred and fifty, I worry about your eating habits. Tea isn't a substitute for food. Anyhow, your shipment will be delivered to your house soon— if we gather enough. Hopefully your teeth don't rot. Final price is $21050, including a small fee for annoying and rushing me."
Chris' smile was forced. Since the risk was increased, they would need a bigger bribe to get the letter out. Chris bit his lower lip and sent another payment to Jun's phone.
***
Back in his room, Chris sat on his bed, sipping warm peppermint tea as the cameras watched him. He felt that his audience were teenage girls who had nothing to do but watch a somewhat attractive boy drink tea. Not the best audience for his message but it was better than nothing. He checked his watch. 1-minute to D-time.
He was simply utilising his free speech, but he felt a terrible sense of dread. He had no intention to slander the government. He simply wanted to get rid of the fighting. The games were already dangerous enough. There was no need for the players to kill each other.
0 seconds.
He looked at the camera closest to him. "My name is Christian Bessett. I, like many of you am tired of the bloodshed. We should band together and push the government to make killing, stealing, and raping illegal in Relar. There is no need for us to kill like barbarians. We have moved past that era. There is no need for us to be modern day vikings who plunder, kill and take advantage of the weak. We are a civilized society who know the value of life. Create your own videos askin-
The helicopter-like blades of the drones surrounding him stopped moving as if they had been turned off from a faraway location. They dropped on his bed with a soft 'clank'.
An arriving text made Chris' phone buzz.
If he had picked it up, he would have seen this message:
New Mandatory Quest: Survive a Tsunami.
His bed shook. Glasses vibrated and fell off the dresser, crashing on the floor. The chandelier over the bed with its chains of crystals like the hanging branches of a willow tree trembled. He heard the roar of the ocean. He went to look out his window. The shoreline had receded, exposing the reef and colourful fish. A wall of water headed towards his house; it was as wide as the island, stretching east to west and increasing in height. At the speed it was traveling, it was at most three-no, two minutes away. Chris' phone rang. He walked over and answered it.
On the other end of the line, Aaron said, "Looks like President Fidel didn't like what we had to say," he paused then added, "did you get the new quest?"
Chris' voice sounded distant; he didn't even realize he was talking, "No."
Aaron said, "We're fucked, man. Fidel hates us. We got thirty people. Thirty people to speak against the killing and the bullshit that happens in the games and Relar give us a fucking tsunami. We are on a small island with some hills, and the wave is already taller than our biggest hill. No point hiding in the basement —we have none and we would drown if we did." A forced laugh; then the sound of him drinking something. Beer most likely.
Chris slowly started to recover from the shock. "What are we going to do?"
He was away from the window, but the wave continued to grow in size.
Aaron said, "Picture this; all the remaining Relar players killed by the game's developers because a few of us tried to do something good. Did you ever think this would happen?"
The roaring grew louder. Chris' knees shook. His legs—he could no longer control them— gave out and he sat on the floor. His voice was faint as he said, "They turned off my cameras. My brother won't know how I died." As Chris thought of his brother, he thought of golden-haired boy who was usually by Gregory's side, Adonis. People bullied Adonis endlessly for being gay without ever getting to see the intelligent child that hid behind the facade of a fool. Adonis was someone that Chris had protected a lot in the past and as a result they had grown quite close. Adonis was like his second little brother.
His first little brother, Gregory, wasn't gay but people easily disliked him. He was an attractive, intelligent, talented athlete, but he was often mute and standoffish, so he ended up getting into fights for accidentally pissing others off.
What would happened to those two if Chris died?
Chris felt a small knot of fear forming in his chest. He wanted to live for for them, but how?
Aaron said, "I promised my little sister I would bring home a souvenir for her. Anyhow, we are all sitting at the beach watching the wave grow. It's like a living thing—the wave— coming to eat us. I have always liked the water. Remember how you and I would always race during swim class to see who was the fastest?"
"Yeah."
"Today. I'll be faster too." There was the sound of heavy breathing.
"What are you doing?"
"Running into the water. If I'm going to die, I'll do it on my own terms." The roaring sounded louder on the end of the line. He heard the chaos of myriads of water droplets slapping water then the line went dead.
"Aaron?"
The wave sounder clear. A giant beast, making its presence known. It hit Chris' house. His window shattered and water rushed inside. The roof and walls groaned. Water seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. The house collapsed under the weight of the ocean. It swallowed Chris as it cut through the shambles of his house and cut off his supply of oxygen. It knocked him against the far wall, and he lost consciousness.
***