Chapter 30

There is a rare type of people among the Sophic Species known as the Kolteraths. These are a people with very distant lineage ties to giants who have developed into their own species with its own culture. Kolteraths have breeds based on giant types, such as stone, fire, storm, and so on. Even the shortest Kolterath stands head and shoulders over Humans and Elves, and those of average height loom over Gredgore Orcs and Dezzar Dracose.

We each disembarked from the AV to stand before Robin’s Red Roost. The building was a three-story affair of worn red brick. I only saw windows on the second and third floors and took note of the steel bars I spotted installed on the interior of each. All the windows that I could see were also covered with curtains.

The front door was a single piece of worked and heavily worn steel with a scanner installed into the upper frame. Above that door was a holographic sign depicting what would be a red robin, but its feathers were black and blue. The Robin sat in a nest of scarlet twigs, angrily flapping its wings. Looking closer, I noticed that the robin’s wings appeared to have bladed feathers. A subtle yet clear sign that we were at a place that did regular business with the Razor Wings gang.

As we all stepped up to the door, Teefa took back to the air, probably to wait somewhere safe until we gave the call for pickup. I gave three solid pounds on the door with a fist. In response, the scanner activated, emitting a horizontal beam of blue-green light that tracked up and down my body. A gruff voice came from a hidden speaker. “Aren’t you a little young to be here?”

“I, uh. I’m here to order a Blood Wing cocktail.” I didn’t bother trying to hide how nervous I was. In my mind, it made sense that an underage boy would be nervous asking to enter a ganger bar.

There was a drawn-out moment of silence before the voice spoke again. “Are all of you here for that?”

“Y-yeah.” I answered.

There was the sound of several weighty clicks as locks were unlatched, and the door swung out to reveal a mood-lit space beyond. I led the way in, walking with care. 

The space was longer than wide by almost double and had an above-standard height ceiling to match. The room we entered was sparsely populated with only a few day drinkers who kept to themselves. The space was illuminated by a scant few old bulbs that emitted a yellowed light just bright enough for a Human to read the menu. Several rectangular tables occupied the floor with raised height to match the bar stools that were paired with each. These tables were dinged, scuffed, chipped, and stained, but were still sturdy looking. The room was filled with the powerful scents of various liquors, tobacco smoke, sweat, aged wood, and a vague hint of blood.

The walls of the interior matched those of the exterior, worn red brick, with trophies mounted along them. One trophy was a cured hide of what had to have been the largest dire rat I had ever seen. A few trophies were Regulator Officer helmets with bullet holes or damage that made it clear the previous owner was no longer breathing. Several trophies were torn and defaced flags of the now disbanded gangs that the Razor Wings had defeated. There were other odds and ends along the walls and behind the bar, but I couldn’t identify their significance at a glance.

The aforementioned bar was an old, stained, and dinged thing that stretched most of the length of the left wall. The bar top was branded with a seemingly random series of symbols and words in various languages. What words I could read were either names or plain-and-simple vulgarity. Behind the bar were five shelves stocked with liquor of a wide variety. Beside the liquor display, hanging from the wall, was a Tetsubo of truly massive proportion.

If you are unfamiliar with a Tetsubo, let me give you a brief rundown. It is a massive, two-handed club normally made from metal, with six flat faces and metal nodules installed down the length of each side. They are obviously brute weapons designed to be used with overwhelming physical force.

Now, I know that a Tetsubo is normally already an enormous weapon, but the one hanging from that wall must’ve been seven feet tall if it was a foot. I stared at the weapon, trying to figure out who on Anogwin would use something so massive. It was as tall as some Orcs and would’ve been too heavy for even one of them to use. Thrasher may have been able to use it, but very few Orcs reached his titanic height and mass.

“Are you just going to stand there like a rock, or are you going to come here?” The voice that had come through the speaker spoke from behind the bar and shocked me out of my contemplation. I followed the source of the voice, and my jaw dropped as a cold sweat broke out across my brow.

Standing behind the bar was what might be called a man. That is, if you can call someone standing eight and a half feet tall, and skin that appeared to almost be stone, a man. I mechanically walked up to the bar with quaking knees. My thoughts flew through my mind at a pace so fast I couldn’t even keep track. I attempted plotting combat tactics if things led in that direction, but threw those ideas out the window. This man was someone not to be fought. I tried plotting escape routes, but Teefa wouldn’t swoop in like a guardian angel, and his strides would outpace me in moments. The only thing I could do was simply not anger him.

I stepped up to the bar and very carefully took a seat on a stool just outside of his arm’s reach. “You-you’re a Kolterath.” I said dumbly.

The massive man took a single step forward, and he was right in front of me. My stunned eyes tracked up his body. I could see his, possibly literally, rock-hard abs under his shirt. My eyes raised to pause again at his pectorals. Those chest muscles were each twice the size of my head and seemed like even they alone could kill me with little effort. His upper arms were each wider than my waist. His shoulders were so wide the man must’ve had to enter rooms sideways. When my eyes reached his face, I paused again. The man’s jaw was a solid slab that would put some boulders to shame. His eyes were a gray-brown that made me think of granet stone, with a gaze just as hard as that stone. His perfectly rounded pate was bald and polished to a dim shine. He wore a pair of thread-bare jeans and a skin-tight black tank top. His hands were covered in leather wraps up to his elbows.

“What is it with you knee-highs and losing it over what I am?” The Kolterath groused.

“I-uh.” I stammered before collecting myself and slipping my mask back on. “Well, your kind is rare to encounter, and you do kinda tower over everyone. It’s more than a little intimidating… sir.” I added the sir to the end in an attempt to be polite, but it sounded so forced I was afraid he would be offended.

The massive man only rolled his eyes and said, “Just drop the sir crap, kid. I hate suck-ups. Just call me Stroder.”

“Got it, si-I mean Stroder.”

“Now, you said you wanted a Blood Wing cocktail. Are you sure, kid? That’s a strong drink. If you aren’t careful and strong, you might die. It’s not meant for younglings like you all.” Stroder asked, worry clear in his voice.

I bit my lip for a moment, second-guessing my plan. Could I get answers elsewhere? Did I have to worm my way into the gang? I quickly and sharply shook my head clear of those thoughts before answering with, “Yes, sir. I mean Stroder. We have needs that can only be met by that drink. I don’t care how strong it is. This is a thirst that can’t be quenched by water.” I said the last line with a hard tone just to show how resolute I was.

“Well, aren’t you a little poet. You noble born?” Stroder asked.

“What? N-no.” I answered. 

Before I could continue, a figure took the stool to my right. I looked over to find a Human woman. She wore a ratty black tank top with a torn edge around her mid-drift. Her pants were skin-tight black and white latex. Around her waist was a utility belt with a pair of holsters at her hips. A pair of kinetic pistols occupied those Holsters. Her feet were dressed in a pair of combat boots that looked a few sizes too large and too heavy to easily walk. Her hair was oil-black, shaved around the sides, and combed over and gelled to cover her left eye. The eye that was visible was what I could only call a molten brown. The color was bright and vivid, with a heat that felt like it would scorch me if I got too close. The most shocking part of her appearance was her exposed skin. Her natural skin color was a mocha brown, but every piece of exposed skin was covered in tattoos aside from her nose and around her eyes.

“So you want the Blood Wing cocktail? You sure? It’s pretty spicy. You might just burn your throat, if you can swallow it, that is.”

I turned to face the newcomer, pulling air through my teeth to display my confidence, lack of care, and‌ a degree of disdain. “And who are you exactly?” I spoke with just as much disdain.

The woman gave a snort of amusement. “You got balls, kid. I’m Valletta, and I’m the one you want to talk to about that drink you’re asking about.”

“So you’re the Valletta I was told to look for.” I said.

By this point, Nennel, Ferris, and Kharmor had each taken up a stool and were intently listening in. Nennel looked impatient, Ferris looked nervous, and Kharmor was eyeing the back wall intently. I did my best to make my body language convey that I was including them, but the leader of the group.

By the Gods, did I hate being a leader. I didn’t want to make choices that affected the lives of others. In all honesty, I just wanted to sit in my room and craft.

“Are these tagalongs with you?” Valletta asked.

“Yeah. We all try, or we all walk away.” I said.

“Any of you got useful skills?”

I gestured to Kharmor with a thumb. “Kaydem is a brute in a fight and can fix firearms easily.” 

I gestured to Nennel next.”Nevierra is insanely smart and can hold her own in a fight.”

Next, I gestured to Ferris. “Ferron has a few spells and some skill with a blade.”

“Those all sound well and good, but what about you?” Valletta asked.

I lowered my gaze to the stool she sat on as I answered. “I’m Iven, and I can put together a few things. I’ve got some spells. I might be able to hold my own in a fight if things aren’t too rough.”

“Well, I guess we could take you. If you can pass the test, that is.” Valletta said with a vague wave of her hand.

Stroder spoke up at this point. “Are you kids positive? This is a life-changing choice and could close a lot of roads in the future. You really should think carefully.”

We all gave some form of resolute agreement to this choice. I nodded. Nennel shrugged in dismissal. Ferris stroked his thumb under his nose with a harsh huff as if he didn’t care. Kharmor was different, though.

“I do want to make this choice. But I could use something strong to ease the nerves.”

Stroder eyed Kharmor for a long moment before responding. “What’s your poison Dwarf boy?”

“I’ll take two fingers of Blood Stone Whiskey, no ice.”

Stroder turned to the rest of us in wordless question.

“I’ll take water.” I answered.

“Coffee.” was Nennel’s answer.

“Something strong” was Ferris’s response.

The Kolterath made each of our drinks in turn and dished them out as they finished. My water was the fastest because it came from the tap. Next, came Kharmor’s, which he sipped with a subtle sense of class that I found baffling. Ferris took his drink and gave a string of harsh coughs after the first sip. By the time Nennel’s coffee was served, Kharmor had sipped off half his drink. Nennel casually drank a coffee so black and thick I would call it tar, but she didn’t flinch or bat an eye.

Valletta patiently waited and watched us as we drank, not speaking once as she rested her cheek on a fist of an arm propped against the bar. Kharmor finished his drink first, setting his empty glass on the bar closer to the bartender with the grace and ease of a noble. Ferris pushed his drink aside after a few more sips. Clearly unable to handle the strength of his drink. Nennel finished her coffee last, not flinching an inch or expressing anything other than total calm the entire time. She set the cup down and stepped off her stool without saying a single word or even looking at either the Stroder or Valletta. By the time Nennel finished, I had barely touched my water. I was so nervous that my stomach was turning like a whirlpool.

I didn’t need a full bladder or enough in my stomach that I could puke it up and look like a fool. The entire time I sipped at my water, I was plotting. I thought through as many possible outcomes as I could. I calculated for Stroder or Valletta becoming hostile. That resulted in eight outcomes that I could think of, and several ended in our death. I calculated for making it to the dive-pods only to be attacked by Valletta. I thought through ten outcomes and most were positive if Stroder didn’t become hostile. Beyond that, there were too many possibilities, given that I didn’t know the layout of the place or their hideout, which was a failure on my part. I really should’ve pulled schematics of both the bar and the hospital and planned accordingly.

When we all finished our drinks, Valletta slipped from her stool. “Alright, fresh meat. Follow me. I will warn you that this won’t be easy.” Valletta moved to stand beside a door in the back of the room.

I slid from my stool, my water barely touched. Stroder gave me a word of warning and very interesting information. “You all should second guess this choice. They aren’t good people. In fact, the only reason they picked this bar as a hangout is because their chief forced me into it. Get out while you can.”

I looked at the Kolterath for a very long moment before I spoke. “I have a goal that needs to be met. But if I can, I will give you an opportunity.” I spoke in a tone quiet enough that Valletta couldn’t hear it from where she stood.

Stroder looked at me skeptically but said nothing. I flashed the massive man a kind smile before moving with the others to approach the door in the rear.

Nennel and the others waited for me to reach them across the room. Ferris seemed to be the only one to hear the words between me and the bartender. The Quint flashed me a sad but understanding smile, out of the sight of Valletta.

I jogged to catch up to the others. When I reached them, Valletta opened the door and wordlessly led us to the second floor.

The second floor, much like the first, was a single large room, filled with more than two dozen dive-pods lined against a side wall. Cables from each pod were linked to a box with the dimensions of a breaker box that was inset into the wall. That box was a server junction box. The purpose of the device lived up to the name. That box ensured that any linked devices were connected to a specific server. It might have LSN access, but that was not likely, given the purpose of these containers. If these pods did have LSN access, it would be behind enough safeguards to make a hacker want to cry.

“Each of you pick one to hop into. As soon as all of you are in, I’ll start the trial.” Valletta said with an expansive wave to the pods in the room. Everyone in my group looked at each other, checking for confirmation. When we all gave an affirming nod, we each moved to a pod.

I chose the pod furthest from the door so that if anything went wrong, I could give the others a chance to escape. As I stepped into my chosen pod, I sent a text message to Teefa, telling her our location and to be ready to collect everyone, with or without me. I didn’t wait for a response as I activated the pod.

I laid down and relaxed as much as I could on the soft padding of the container. I will admit that I didn’t relax much, but it was enough for the Full-Dive to take effect.

As I laid back and the pod sealed shut, I focused on my breathing before I experienced being shoved into cyber reality. The world behind my closed eyes went totally white. There was a sensation of falling from a tremendous height. I came to a sudden stop, standing upright in the field of white as my senses caught up to my mind. The white field instantly became occupied with a systematic grid of blue lines that reached out into the distance farther than I could see. This false reality became enveloped with darkness that encroached from the corners of my vision. That darkness was endlessly deep and seemed to stretch on for eternity. Yet, somehow, that gave me a sense of calm. Not long after the black void consumed the unnerving white void, I felt myself falling again. I dropped into an empty concrete box.

I inspected the enclosed space for any clue as to what I needed to do for the trial. There had to be a way out or some hint toward the goal I needed to attain. Only a few moments into inspecting the walls, something strange occurred.

A plain wooden chair popped into existence with no special effects. The chair simply appeared, occupied by a humanoid being made of solid blue static. This entity had no facial features, just a blank slate. It wore no clothes and had a generically androgynous frame and build that could’ve been Human or Elf. Its arms were crossed over its chest, and one leg was crossed over the other.

“Well, Iver, aren’t you a special piece on this game board.” Its voice was clearly male, but I couldn’t identify any other aspects of the voice beyond that. The sound of the voice modulated in strange ways that I could not explain.

I turned to face the strange entity. “I’m sorry?” I asked in confusion.

The entity turned its face to me. “No need to be sorry. You truly are a curious piece on this board. You can call me Weaver.”

“Weaver? As in Net Weaver? Like the dead hacker?” I asked, totally perplexed by this whole scenario. Was this the test? What was the point of it?

The entity gave a light chuckle that clipped for a fraction of a second as if it had a glitch. Weaver moved on to explaining as if he hadn’t noticed the strange occurrence. It waved away the question as if it didn’t matter. It was with that simple motion that I noticed a complex series of black marks on its right hand. “I may have once been that man you have heard of. But I have evolved since then. The Star Elf, Tantess Vennor died. I-he died doing the right thing. I am a completely digital being who exists to change the playing field of the world.”

“The playing field?”

It felt like Weaver was giving me a weighty look with a cocked head. “Why do so few understand it? I know I was blind to it when I was living. So many are blind to the fact. There is so much more at play than anyone can see.” Its tone became more aggressive as Weaver pressed that marked fist onto where its face should be. “I had to die. I had to lose everything to see the truth.”

I was terrified by its tone, but I still asked, “What truth?”

It-he lowered his hand and relaxed it as he pulled a leg up close to rest a foot on his seat. “Well, Maverick, we have a bit to talk about. I’ve yet to find an opponent who can truly challenge me. And I hope that you can be that opponent.”

“Opponent?”

He gave a snort. “After I died, I had reality put into perspective. A man of great wisdom told me that life and reality are simply a game. The most complex game that could be perceived.”

“A… Game?” I echoed.

“Of course. This is a game played by Gods, Immortals, and Kings. Every living being is a piece on that board. The rules of this game are ever-changing. Wars and peace talks, famines and grand harvests are but a single part. This is a game where the choice of a single man could change everything. Vartex, upto this point, has failed to be an opponent of any value. But I think that you, Iver, have potential.”

I stared at Weaver in total confusion. This thing, this being, was talking to me like I knew what he was talking about. If this was a test set down by the gang, I had to question the sanity of the entire group. After a few seconds of me staring at Weaver in clear confusion, he slapped the palm of his hand against his head.

“How impolite of me. You need to know what all is happening if I want you to be any kind of worthwhile player.” Weaver stood up, clasped his hand behind his back, and started circling the room. As he paced, the walls behind him formed images as he passed. “Let’s start with the fact that I’m a Circuit. That is a very special class of Mage who can inject their consciousness into a digital system and manipulate it, unlike any hacker you could possibly imagine. We are completely helpless outside of cyberspace unless there is some device with network access that we can connect to. While we are totally useless out in the wilds of the Anogwin, within city limits, we are some of the most dangerous people to cross. Corporations hire as many Circuits as they can find as tools. We craft the strongest cyber defenses, find the most elusive of data on the net, and can find our way into any system given enough time. I was-am the most skilled Circuit in this hive-city. I worked for Vartex to pay bills. You see, my mother was terribly wounded when she was caught in the middle of a gang war. She was trapped inside a hospital just to stay breathing, and I was the one who needed to pay her bills because my sister was out causing trouble.” The walls behind Weaver systematically showed images. First was a stick figure in a t-shirt floating among dozens of 1s and 0s with a box in its arm with a cable linking it to what could only have been an old-age computer. Then, a stick figure with a frown laying atop what must’ve been a bed with medical machines around them. Another stick figure with a ponytail displaying arched brows and a crooked smile sat at another old-age computer.

“Well, one day, Vartex told me to do something rather nasty. When I said no, they said that they would pull the plug on my mother.” The wall showed the figure in the bed with Xs for eyes, and the machines were all blank. “So I found a wise man who told me what to do.” This time, the wall displayed the t-shirt stick figure standing in front of another figure with no mouth and hollow eyes, holding a pawn chess piece in one hand and what looked to be a page with writing in the other hand.

“So I moved my mother and set up cyber security around her. Then, I left the company with security codes and met up with my sister. You see, she had joined an activist group of hackers, hacktivists if you will, who had been acting against corporations who had been doing wrong. That group was known as Freestand. My little sister was happy to have me, and I made an offer. We could break into Vartex systems in several cyber locations and would cause a bit of trouble, and I aimed to leave with some very special data.” The wall behind Weaver formed images of the figure in the bed locked behind several walls with 1s and 0s between each line. Then, the figure in the t-shirt meeting up with the figure with the ponytail and several others.

“So we made our move. My entire new team was made of Circuits, which I thought was a boon until it was to our great misfortune. We dived together and went to work. My sister and her gang went throughout the Vartex network to cause all kinds of trouble. Deleting data, scrambling and moving files, and snatching anything of value that could be sold to another crop for any kind of coin. But I was after the preem goods. The codes I had stolen before leaving the corp were to the closed server of a lab that had been working on some special projects. So, I snatched a formula for a new miracle drug and prototype notes on new cybernetics. While I was at it, I injected myself into an experimental automaton, and I set about using that bit of metal to demolish everything I could find in that max-security lockbox of a room.” As Weaver began his second cycle around the room, the images on the walls were reshaped. The next scene displayed several stick figures lying in what looked to be dive-pods with cables all running to a large box with the letter V written on it. The next image displayed the t-shirt figure laid over a simple figure made up of several segments and joints, as it was in mid-motion of breaking a stand of beakers with a row of broken computers behind it.

“But things went wrong. Vartex knew what we were doing before we had even started. They set in place and executed Operation Poisoned Honey Pot. While Freestand was in full-dive, a corporate strike team broke into where we were diving from and set a trap. Everyone in Freestand was locked into cyberspace, all safety measures were stripped, and we all suffered a replicating data injection loop.” Behind Weaver, the wall showed a group of black stick figures standing behind the figures in the dive pods, with one standing beside the box with a V. That last figure was holding a small rectangle with a syringe on it. “Do you know what that is?”

I shook my head in answer.

Weaver gave a weighty sigh as his shoulders slumped. “Think of it this way: your mind is trapped in cyberspace, all protections to keep you safe are gone, and suddenly you have raw data being pumped into your mind. That stream of raw information is being looped, and every time it loops, it gets larger and larger. Suddenly, that stream of data becomes a whitewater rapids river, then a waterfall, then a raging ocean. What do you think happens to your mind when you have that much raw information being forced into it?”

“It…cooks.” I deduced. “Lethal Synaptic Stimulation Feedback.”

Weaver poked a finger toward me with a flourish. “On the money. You might really be what I’m looking for, after all. So everyone in Freestand, even me, died. But because I had injected my mind into that automaton, my consciousness was trapped in cyberspace.” The images on the walls of the closed space pulled from their surfaces to fold into each other in the air at the center of the room. Two-dimensional became two-point-five-dimensional as flat images floated in the air. A simple stick figure floated there, bobbing gently up and down among a swirling field of 1s and 0s. Those numbers multiplied and began swirling faster and faster before coming to a sudden halt. Then, the numbers flew toward the figure and melted with it. The final result was a three-dimensional androgynous head formed from vertical black lines. The head condensed into a single ball of black before bursting, replaced by Weaver sitting in his chair again.

“So that’s my backstory. Now for the key part.” Weaver crossed one leg over the other, propped an elbow against the arm of his chair, and rested his cheek on the fist of that arm. “When I slipped out of the server and back into the greater network, I was bitter. I had lost everything. My sister was dead. I was dead. My mother would die in only a few days if her medical bills weren’t paid. Vartex got away with it all and would only keep on hurting people. But that wise man who told me to collect the data from the lab found me in my little corner of the net and put things into perspective. How life is a game of the grandest scale, and how I could be a player in that game. I pit myself against Vartex in this game. But the company has failed to be anything close to a skilled player. So they are my target, and I want you to be my opponent.”

Things had gotten so derailed from my original plan that I had no idea what I could do. I had been kidnapped by a spirit trapped in cyberspace. A spirit who wanted me to play some global-scale game with him/it. This thing had once been a master hacker who had been killed by Vartex, and was out for some strange kind of revenge. The phantom didn’t seem to be hostile toward me, so it might be possible to get more information from it. I had an idea of what was going on, but I wanted clarification.

“I’m sorry, but can I ask some questions?” I asked.

Weaver gave me a ‘you’re welcome to’ gesture with one hand. So I pinched my chin between my thumb and forefinger in thought as I started pacing back and forth in front of the spirit. “So you stole top secret information from Vartex, but they killed you. Are you talking about the Zyzivane formula and the experimental cybernetics data that could make artificial Mages?”

“Well, aren’t you clever, my little game piece. Yes, that would be the data that I snatched.”

“And you sent it out to the net. What was the point of that?” I asked.

I could feel his smirk as he answered. “There are several answers to that one. I could say that it was because I wanted to damage the corporation. I could say that it was to help the common people. I could also say that I was told to do so or that it was a tool.”

“Woh, hold up.” I said. “Who told you to release the data?”

“Well, the wise man, of course. Mr.Durge is a man who knows what needs doing. The sir explained how to put the data to good use in this game.”

“Who is this Mr.Durge? And how was the data put to good use?” I asked.

“He’s a player like you or I. But he’s been at this game much longer. He was the one who explained that I needed to stop letting the corp use me like a piece on the board. The strange man said that I should steal the data to make the most impact. Mr.Durge set me to the goal of passing on the Zyzivane formula to the right people, so it could be improved. He mentioned that I could also put the formula to good use elsewhere. So I pulled a few strings and got a modified formula into the hands of the Razor Wings.”

“What do the Razor Wings have to do with anything?”

“Well, they are game pieces, of course. I’ve put them to work, and they will take the fall when all is said and done. They have hurt plenty of people, not just my mother. And what are pawns for if not to be used and sacrificed to progress the game?”

“They hurt your mother?” I asked.

“Yes.” I could hear the hate in his voice. “They are the reason that my mother needs constant medical care. But they’ve hurt plenty of others. They’ve hurt people who you know as well. So, I set plans in motion that could bring about their fall, even as I use them to complete my goals. I hired them to remove some of the Vartex members who had killed me from the board.”

“And you killed others. Am I right? You caused other Vartex agents to suffer Lethal Synaptic Stimulation Feedback, just like what they did to you.” I accused.

“Well, of course.” Weaver said as he held up his hands in a gesture that conveyed that it was obvious. “I’ve always had a taste for the ironic.” He pointed a finger at me as he continued. “And that is where you come into this game of layers. I want to see if you can pit wits against me in my game of revenge on this first layer of the game. I will make moves to remove six more pieces from Vartex’s board. While I’m moving pieces on this grand board, you are on the ground trying to stop me. Your pieces are obviously your little friends and anything or anyone else you can put to good use in any way you can. I saw you cut off your foot during that fight with the Regulators, so I know you’ve got the dedication. I saw you throw together those traps from scraps during the AV chase before the fight, so I know that you’re clever enough to keep up with me. But you're still new to this game, so I will give you a few extra bits of help. Six hints to be specific.”

Weaver raised a hand toward me with a single raised finger. “First, I will falsify the results of the test you were supposed to take during this dive. You will be able to join the gang and get some answers.” He raised a second finger. “Next, I will give you some hints to this game of revenge.”

Weaver lowered his original raised hand and lifted his other hand, raising one finger per hint he gave. “One. While you are in with the gang, ask where they got their Zyzivane formula and back track it. Two. Ask the Razor Wing boss about their newest list of hits. I’d be careful how I bring that up if I were you. She is far from simple-minded. Three. Look into the comm records from G3ar Gh0zt on the Copper-For-Your-Thoughts forums. I will tell you now that it was my screen name on that site, but I think you’ll find the conversation rather interesting. Four. Look into those around you who have been hurt by the Razor Wings. Five. I recommend that you look at a list of the Vartex agents who are taking part in Operation Missing Sock. Six. Investigate a scientist known as Dr.Vanderbar.”

As Weaver wrapped up his list of six hints, he had extended all five fingers of his left hand and had grown an extra, which abruptly vanished as soon as he lowered that hand. But he raised his other hand, still raised with two fingers extended. “That is six pieces of advice. One for each of my next targets. I think that’s fair. So I’ve given a favor, and a bundle of hints. Are there any other handicaps you feel you need?”

“I don’t suppose that I could ask you to simply not kill people?” I asked. “You know that murder is not something a moral person does.”

Weaver rested both hands on his lap and leaned forward with his elbows pointing outward. “This coming from a fledgling murderer. One should not criticize someone for an act that they themselves have committed. Besides, whoever said that I was a good person? I was a paid assault hacker for a mega-corp that had me scorching brains long before I traded sides. You can’t be so naive, my fledgling player. This is a dark and cruel world. Murder is a daily occurrence, no matter where you go. You should know this better than many your age, given what your Order does. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few. Isn’t that right?”

“How do you know about the Order?” I asked in shock.

Weaver scoffed in annoyance. “I’m a being of pure data. I can go anywhere in the network that I please. I know all about your Order of the Aegis and its goals. I also know The Company and who is running that band of extreme go-getters.”

I had been doing my best not to make eye contact with the phantom until he mentioned The Company. My head snapped back to lock the being with an intent stare. “What do you know about that group?” I demanded.

“Well, aren’t you over-eager for some data crumbs. I’ll tell you what, if you can beat me in this game, I will tell you everything I know about The Company and what they are doing. That should be a nice incentive for you to win this game of ours.”

“Fine. I’ll play this game, and I’ll beat you. But I want one more thing from you before I get started.”

“And what would that be, Player?”

“I want you to promise me that you won’t hurt anyone in my party.”

“I can agree to that. But I can’t make any promises about the actions of my pieces. They will act as they so desire, regardless of what I say.”

“Fine. Now, before you let me out of this space, what was the trial that I was supposed to go through when I dived? I need to keep my story straight?”