Codename: Freedom: Survive Week One Page 10

  “The shirt.”

  Pulling the sweat stained shirt over my head, I sat there red-faced. I was fairly athletically built, but nothing compared to the men around us. Lounging around playing virtual reality all day usually didn’t help. It was only the ramping up of my running and workouts that had put some muscle on me.

  Did I mention groups were streaming out of the village? The pile of loot at Peter’s feet made us especially worthy of attention. These were items of much higher quality than most of them possessed.

  Numerous sober faces nodded our way or ignored us as they walked by. A few stopped and asked if we needed help. It was good to see kindness knowing that most people still considered this a game. In a month's time, very few people would still see it that way.

  “It looks like it may leave a bit of a scar, but the skin wasn’t broken as much as bruised.”

  Glancing at my leg wound from the day before I noticed there was also a little scarring from that.

  “So, how do you feel?”

  “Good. Just tired really.”

  “Alright. Then let’s go get a bed. Oliver?”

  “Here. This should be better than what you were wearing.” Oliver said, tossing me a large bundle of leather.

  I unfolded the stiff hide and found it was nearly twice as thick as the one the Hobgoblin had destroyed. This one lacked studs. The gamer in me grinned. New gear!

  Victoria continued to watch me with the eye of a nurse as I put my shirt back on and then slid the leather vest over my head. She didn’t quite seem convinced that I was better. The leather vest was a much better fit than the first one. Not that it really mattered. The game system would resize the item to fit you. It wasn’t realistic, but the added convenience made it forgivable.

  That’s when I saw Peter shoot to his feet and yell. “Hey!”

  He marched over with his hand on the hilt of his still-sheathed sword to a group of players that had run across an item that had been missed while collecting the fallen players’ items.

  We all rose to our feet. The alcohol was wearing off, but I was still a little woozy. The dull pressure behind my eyes was the real problem.

  A player with blue spiky hair had reached down and found a decent iron sword. He still wore newbie dirt pajamas and a bronze short sword. He couldn’t have had much of an opportunity to fight yesterday.

  “That isn’t yours,” Peter said.

  “Hey now! I worked hard for this,” he replied, shaking the sword in the air as if it was a trophy. His group of five other guys, also with newbie gear, laughed.

  “Drop it!”

  Sniffing and looking down his nose, the newcomer was starting to get visibly agitated. “Oh come on, you saw me bend down and pick it up. That’s hard work right there. Are you wanting to steal my loot?”

  The snickers from his gang continued.

  “The owner died last night,” Peter said in a somber voice, hoping reason would win out.

  Turning his head, the blue-headed thief gave a mock shrug. “That’s even better. Wouldn’t want to reward a loser.”

  Peter didn’t answer with words but slowly drew his longsword.

  “Oh, come on, boys. The old man thinks he’s going to teach us a lesson.”

  As one they stalked toward Peter.

  Immediately my spear and shield were out and we rushed over to stand behind him. Though we looked like an odd assortment, Kline was abnormally buff even if he was short and Oliver would intimidate anyone with his size. Our gear was superior to theirs, which should have been a sign.

  Peter’s lion cub and Victoria’s falcon were visible for all to see. From the text above their heads, these players weren’t even level 5.

  I stood leaning on my spear with my shield dragging at my side. My hope was that they saw how fearless I looked; even if my fearlessness was really just exhaustion in disguise.

  They stopped short, but not without a few hoots at Victoria.

  Biting her lower lip, she lowered her spear as a dare.

  “The person who died last night, died protecting the village. If you will not respect that, then I will make this very clear. Drop the sword or experience what he did,” Peter said.

  The gang led by the blue haired guy looked as if they would test Peter’s resolve when another group joined us.

  “I suggest you listen, boy. That belongs to a friend of mine,” said their leader. I remembered his full rusty beard from the night before. The name over his head read Harrison.

  About fifteen people stood there opposing them.

  Not as stupid as I hoped, the blue haired thief shrugged. “I didn’t know he was your friend. Guess it can’t be helped.”

  He threw the sword to the ground near Peter’s feet.

  “Watch your back.” He led his group out of the crowd into the woods.

  The large bearded man gave us a slow nod. After the problem was out of sight, he headed to the gate with his group. Other groups followed shortly after.

  What is wrong with people? I knew that wasn’t the right question. In VR games where pain isn’t an issue, there are thousands of guys like Mr. Blueberry. They enjoy giving people a hard time for the sake of the thrill. It really isn’t a big deal normally, but the reality of Freedom had not yet caught up with them. In time, the real criminals would be the people that didn’t change after they experienced the difference.

  After the initial rush of players had left the village, a large crowd headed our way. They were armorless, with nothing but their newbie browns. There were dozens of them.

  One of the players at the front of the pack was one of the men that had backed us up when the Hobgoblin boss first attacked. His name was John.

  Most of the groups from last night had already entered the village so only our group was there to meet them.

  They stopped before us, the pile of armor and weapons between us.

  “Is that what I think it is?” one of the men asked.

  Victoria stepped forward, a young falcon perched on her shoulder. The bird of prey had silver head feathers and a cherry brown colored body.

  It caught me as odd that she kept doing the talking. She was more than capable, but it was Peter that commanded respect with ease. Not to mention he was an adult.

  “Yes. We gathered all the items we could find that were dropped by everyone that died last night. The other groups helped. Please come gather your things. I’m sorry there was no way for us to sort them.”

  The first to approach us was a black woman. Her hair was cut tight against her head and she was even taller than Victoria. She had well-toned muscle definition overall and was definitely an athlete. Such a strong woman had tears streaming down her face.

  Walking up to Victoria, she grabbed her hand and cradled it in her own.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Turning to each of us in turn, she mouthed the words.

  I felt tears threaten my eyes when she turned to me, but not out of compassion. I was jealous. She had gotten to die. The pain had ended quickly for her. I rebuked myself for even thinking such a thing.

  When she was done, she turned to the pile and started sorting.

  “Marcus! I think this is your club,” she said while placing items to the side.

  A man stepped forward and grabbed the weapon, inventoried it, and stooped down to help her sort. Though it wasn’t as ceremonial, he also looked to us and nodded his thanks.

  Soon a stream of players were working together to sort through the items. The tragic night had caused something I rarely saw in massive multiplayer games. Everyone was helping one another and there was no quest reward at the end.

  After a few minutes, John stood and asked a question.

  “So how did you guys kill the Hobgoblin?”

  No one answered right away, but Victoria cleared her throat, choked up with emotion.

  “When it attacked, we were all taken by surprise. Our group faced it first, but it ran right through us. If it wasn’t for Lucius, I would have
been the first person crushed.”

  When the crowd looked to me, I found it hard to breathe. My chest filled with warmth. Normally the spotlight was a part of being a high-level gamer, but this was something different. I cracked a smile to not be rude, but I didn’t think I deserved any praise.

  “After that, it slaughtered many of us. Lucius once again took it upon himself and attacked the Hobgoblin alone. He gained its attention by throwing his spear into its back. Then he rushed forward and barely blocked the creature’s mace, which shattered his shield. That didn’t stop him. He slashed down at the Hobgoblin’s leg and disabled it at the knee. After…”

  Suddenly she was unable to speak. Nothing looked externally wrong, she hid it really well. With a single shake of her head, she looked to Peter, who took over the story.

  “After that Lucius was hit in the back as he tried to escape. I’m afraid he had the worst of it last night. Many of his ribs were broken, his back. He didn’t die.”

  I was not able to look up at anyone. My body trembled. Wringing my hands, I tried to hide it.

  A hand found my wrist and Victoria was there holding onto my arm. She didn’t even look up or say anything, but the gesture helped. I focused on the sweet smell of fruit that I remembered from last night. It had been her.

  “We found that alcohol helps alleviate pain. When the beast fell, no longer able to walk, we were able to finish it quickly. Kline decapitated it for us.”

  There was a deep sigh from the crowd.

  “And as you can see Lucius is fully recovered.”

  Those in the crowd needed no explanation about what it meant that I hadn’t died.

  John soon found me and offered me his hand. A round of handshakes and pats on the back followed. I quickly came up with a theory that some of them were patting me on the back just to see if I really had recovered.

  It was the most sobering moment of my life up to that point. What I saw was real thanks in people’s eyes. Winning a gaming world championship wouldn’t compare to what I felt at that moment. It was a humbling happiness.

  Many of them headed back to the village after getting their stuff, but a few joined their groups and headed into the woods. Those were the brave ones.

  Would I also find the courage? It was too early to tell. Now it was time to get some sleep, but this afternoon I had some thinking to do. I couldn’t lie to myself and say I didn’t fear what had just happened. It could happen again.

  Oliver was charged with escorting Victoria and me to an inn. They had slept the least until early morning when Peter insisted and took over watch.

  Victoria kept asking if I needed help walking, which wasn’t necessary at all. Never before had I grown this close to a group in all my years gaming online. I really liked these people. Not only were they willing to help me, but also protected the loot of everyone that had fallen facing the hobgoblin boss.

  “I have some items for you,” Oliver said.

  I received a full 10 silver not including what I had picked up myself, which was nearly half a gold. My inventory was almost full. An iron short sword in the best condition I had seen yet was handed over next. It was even polished.

  Victoria explained. “It was actually a gift from Harrison’s group. He said that if you would have had a better weapon you could have taken the hobgoblin’s leg clean off. Iron holds a much better edge.”

  “The bearded guy?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Thank you.”

  One less thing I had to spend money on. Good iron weapons could cost as much as low-end steel from what I remember seeing on April‘s cart.

  The last thing I received was a green stone. I guessed it was an uncut emerald. This one was bigger than all the stones I had received before. The economy was still in its infancy, but I was sure this would be something to keep and sell later.

  With a sudden change of demeanor, Victoria asked. “Okay, let’s see it!”

  “What?!” I asked.

  “Your pet, of course.”

  “Oh... Here.”

  With a command, Wink appeared a few feet in front of her. She had been there all along but only visible to me.

  “A puppy!”

  To the discomfort of her falcon, she knelt down and scooped up the wolf pup, squeezing it to her chest.

  She was too distracted to introduce her own pet, but the text above its head informed me its name was Ali.

  “Good choice. And her name is Wink? Oh, her eye!”

  “I didn’t think anything else would do.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  It was 10 copper for each of us to get a room for the night. It was at the same inn I had started out at. From the outside, it was a huge log structure with a plain, but homely atmosphere.

  We stood there at the far end of the reception area, with the big saloon-style counter and a noisy room with a sausage and gravy smell seeping through the cracked doors to a tavern of sorts. I would have to explore a bit more later.

  There was little effort spent on our farewells as we departed upstairs to our separate rooms, except that Victoria didn’t want to stop her tickle fight with Wink. She had no problem letting the pup lick her all over the face.

  Victoria said goodnight after giving up the pup, and I noticed her lightheartedness from a moment before was now gone. Her sudden soberness made me want to stop her before she left. If I could have loaned her Wink for the night I would have.

  I was too late to say anything as she headed up the stairs to her room.

  “Good night,” I said.

  Oliver didn’t answer and watched me as I went.

  ***

  Self-Examination

  The room I entered looked identical to the one I had started in: a twin bed, small desk, large window and no decoration. At least there was an actual mattress, even if it was a few centuries old. I was expecting straw or feathers.

  Even though I had been putting it off, it was time to check in on my fans. It meant I would have to face what happened last night. Exhaustion, which I had plenty of, was not a good enough excuse to wait.

  First, I stripped into nothing but my dust-colored clothes and inventoried my armor. The sweat soiled shirt came off next. Only my new sword and sheath stayed with me next to my pillow for protection.

  217/221 HP

  My recovery was happening quickly. Only a little stiffness still remained.

  Sitting Indian style on the bed, I pulled up the parchment textured menu.

  I stared at the window for a long time without even pulling up my channel management console. Everything that had driven me the last couple years seemed so far away. To become a professional gamer, one of the best out of billions was the ultimate bragging right.

  The competition only got better the higher you went up in the rankings. To challenge the greatest gamers alive and prevail gave you something that no one could take away. Bragging rights were mediocre in comparison to real glory; the kind of glory that doesn’t come from how others see you, but from your own undeniable ability. Once you were the best, the number of followers you had no longer mattered. You could fight against the entire system and you would still have to be acknowledged.

  For the first time since I had taken the steps to become a pro gamer, I thought that maybe my father was right. Maybe being a creator was a better choice. It was easy to think that way if all I wanted to do was escape pain. Shaking my head, I repositioned my legs to try and get comfortable without much luck.

  Up until last night, all I had to do was remind myself why I was here to stay motivated. The thousands of hours of hard work and going without the things most high schoolers lived for was hard, but a worthy price to pay. Last night the price for admission had changed from climbing the ladder to building your own ladder without any tools and nothing to lean it against. It seemed impossible.

  More pain awaited me if I continued. There was very little chance I wouldn’t get hurt again. It was only a matter of time. The game would see to that. Before
last night I could honestly say I found joy in what I did, but how could one find joy in suffering? I had mastered 40% pain at a max of 5 seconds. It’s amazing what the mind can do, but is it possible to master 100% pain for hours and stay sane?

  Opening my channel management console, I saw my latest selfie. It was from before the Hobgoblin had crushed my shield when Kline and I were showing off our new equipment.

  Under my selfie were my channel’s stats. What I saw would have sent me dancing down the street like a crazy man just a day before. Instead, I felt numb.

  A room in the inn meant I was free from the live feed, so I didn't have anyone watching me. It was for the best because my followers had shot up to 2,298,589. I now had enough followers to go pro and then some.

  Searching for the reason for the viral increase in fans I found that a few of my longtime fans had made two videos. The first I clicked on and confirmed to allow full virtual visuals.

  The room disappeared and suddenly I was looking through my own eyes from the night before. I was able to change the view, but first person seemed appropriate.

  Sprinting forward a few feet I watched my spear fly and strike the hobgoblin in the back. The scene of my attack played through until the tree-sized club launched me meters away and I watched the boss monster get killed.

  Even after the scene played out, I sat there staring at my channel console for a time trembling uncontrollably. This time there was no kind, pretty girl to settle me down.

  Clicking the next video gave me a side view of the end of the scene. The club caught me on the far end of its swing. If I had just been two feet further away I would have been home free.

  There was a good view of the Hobgoblin being decapitated, but it didn't end there. It didn't seem like it would ever end. Watching yourself clinch your jaw so tight because you lacked the ability to scream was terrifying. When you start to jerk without stop until you passed out… how can you ever look at yourself the same way again?

  After I had first passed out Victoria jumped from her knees and stood to face Peter. Tears drenched her face and she demanded with a severity I didn’t think she was capable of, "I have to help!"

  A subtle, almost invisible light started to emanate from her hands.