(Eight parts. 9000 words.)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight
One
Korgen frowned as the console continued to update.
It had taken millions of years to procure a replacement core, of course the software would be out of date. It was only logical. Still, the Crixian was impatient. Time was of the essence.
Despite the fact that the Genesis homeworld had been destroyed in the Third Galactic War, their army of ancient satellites circling The Known remained operational. More importantly, those satellites were maintained and protected by countless preservation laws. As long as they survived, the worlds created inside the Genesis servers would continue to exist.
Without their manufacturer, console cores were impossibly rare. Any power core in use at the time of the Great Wars had long since burned out. It had only been by a stroke of luck that Korgen had managed to procure one before his time expired.
How he had managed to do so … well, that was unimportant.
Tucked away in his crater-chamber within the massive asteroid belt of Nebula 9, the Crixian was untouchable, just as hard to find as the Genesis core had been. Eventually, his pursuers would conclude that a being as ancient as he had finally passed on. After all, everything died eventually.
He had prepared his lair for every possibility, reconfiguring both the console and its power source to the latest technological standards. As long as the nearby star did not burn out, his gaming session would be indefinite…
…or, at least as long as he survived it.
As if reading his thoughts, the smooth voice of the AI echoed throughout the crater-chamber. “Are you sure you want to do this, Korgen?”
The Crixian glared at the AI’s sensor in the far corner of the room. Upon his attempted reply, a series of pained coughs sent his failing body into a spasming fit. The vile taste in his mouth was that of death. The time was near indeed.
“Updates,” Korgen hissed, “how long?”
The sleek form of the AI appeared, an angled being of brilliant light. The Crixian watched through milky eyes as it interfaced with the console.
“The updates are complete,” the AI reported an instant later.
Korgen nodded. “It is … time then.” He broke off as another fit of coughing stole his breath. He hadn’t realized how quickly his body had begun to deteriorate, how much the voyage to retrieve the core had cost him. “Initiate the transfer.”
“There are other ways, Sire,” the AI cautioned as it connected a series of wires running from the console to the modified gaming helmet. “What if this doesn’t work like you expect?”
“I made Earth for this purpose,” the Crixian replied, fragile voice brimming with determination. “If the choice is between ruling an artificial world and dying in the real one, then it is no choice at all.”
The sleek form of the AI glided across the chamber to where Korgen rested in his stasis chair. “This cannot be undone, Sire. Once you are in there, you cannot return.”
“You have extended my life as long as you can,” Korgen replied weakly. “I have only one task remaining for you. You must keep the console alive at all costs.”
The AI fitted the bulk helmet over the Crixian’s head, then saluted. “Of course, Sire. As long as the star burns, your life will not extinguish.”
The Crixian attempted to laugh; instead, he fell into another fit of pained coughing. He took a last look around the small crater-chamber and nodded to the AI. “Do it.”
Darkness came.
Two
Korgen awoke to a familiar sight, the quaint interface of the Genesis console’s homescreen. The simplicity of the commands brought on a blissful feeling of nostalgia. The Crixian navigated through the list of available world servers first by galaxy, then by system until he finally came to Earth.
With a single thought, the userid and password prompts filled with text. Korgen would have smiled if he had held a physical form. Gleefully, he commanded the system to log him in.
Account in use.
Korgen regarded the error message in confusion. Had he entered something incorrectly? Hurriedly, he deleted the information and attempted to log in once again.
Account in use.
Korgen cursed. How was this possible? There were no longer any Genesis consoles in operation. Even if there were, how could someone have stolen his information? The password was in the ancient language of Crixia. It had to be some sort of glitch in the ancient system.
He tried a third and final time, receiving the same message again. This time, however, a new prompt appeared beneath the first.
Create new account.
Korgen realized that he had no other option. Other world servers would be locked or defunct, and once he entered a server, he could not leave it. He could only be certain that Earth had survived.
Has someone truly taken control of my creation?
The Crixian selected the undesirable option and completed the necessary information. He attempted not to duplicate his original avatar, Crixus, but he always had a tendency to create in his own image. It wouldn’t matter in the long run. If another being had taken over his original character, he would simply have to destroy it.
Korgen cycled through the last dozen prompts and launched his new life.
Korgen’s eyes bolted open. The Crixian found himself in the back of a land-bound vehicle accompanied by an assortment of ragged men and women. The sky overhead was an ominous gray and the surrounding land was dead and filed with craters. An armored guard with an automatic rifle balanced across his raised knees studied the prisoners through dark eyes.
It was a moment before the Crixian realized his wrists were bound by rope.
“Where am I?” he asked the woman beside him.
“This again?” the woman sighed, shaking her dreadlocked hair in disgust. “You told me to wake you up when we neared the work camp.” She leaned close and whispered into his ear. “You promised that you would be able to find a way out.”
“Work camp?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Kor. Your memory is worthless.” She gestured to an ominous compound in the distance. “In case you’ve forgotten, we were captured six days ago assaulting one of the High Ruler’s weapon shipments.”
Korgen shook his head, dirty hair falling over his eyes. The High Ruler was a title he had created, a title that belonged solely to him. Who had taken it? Who had turned the perfect world he had left behind to this … abomination?
“This High Ruler?”
“You can’t be serious. Care to waste any more time with pointless questions? Once we’re behind those walls, there is no escape.”
“Tell me their name,” he growled.
“Crixus.”
Korgen frowned. It wasn’t a glitch. Someone had taken over Earth using his profile.
He won’t get away with this. This is my world!
“So, what’s the plan, Kor?” the woman asked. “We need to stop this truck. Time is almost up.”
Korgen glanced at the armed guard. “We’re going to need his weapon.”
“Tell us what we have to do,” the bald man across from him said. “Anything to get out of here.”
The others prisoners nodded in agreement.
Korgen ran a series of scenarios through his head. He hadn’t expected to reenter his world on the way to internment, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared. It was his world after all.
“Stand up and hit me,” Korgen whispered. “All of you, be ready to run.”
A heartbeat later, the bald man leapt to his feet and threw his weight at the Crixian. Korgen moved quickly, relishing the abilities of his new body. Before the guard could react, he sent the bald man over the edge of the flatbed and rolling across the wasteland.
As Korgen had hoped, the driver of the vehicle slammed on the brakes. The standing guard was caught by surprise, stumbling in the instant before his body slammed against the back of the truck cabin. The woman’s arm forced the Crixian against the flatbed as a storm of bullets from inside the truck shattered the back window.
“Is this your plan?” she hissed.
Korgen ignored her, snatching the knife from the waist of the unconscious guard. Gunshots and screams echoed as the guards stationed in the front of the truck predictably pursued the other prisoners who had begun to scatter. Taking advantage of the distraction, the Crixian sawed through the woman’s bonds and allowed her to return the favor.
“Stay down,” he ordered as the gunfire continued.
Korgen pried the gun from the fallen guard’s hands and examined it closely. Such a primitive device, he thought with disgust.
The sight of such a weapon rekindled his earlier anger. He had put Earth on a trajectory to achieve great technological wonders. After so long, it should have been a close approximation to the life he had left behind. It should have been paradise!
Crixus, I will kill you for what you have done.
Livid, Korgen rose to his feet and leveled the gun. The two guards stood a few paces up the road, their backs to the stalled truck. Dead prisoners lined the road ahead, each body lying a step closer to freedom than the last. The two guards cackled as they picked off the remaining escapees.
“Nice shot,” one said as the other finally managed to end the last runner.
Korgen’s bullet took the man who had spoken through the back. As the second turned, the Crixian fired rapidly, filling the man with lead.
Korgen turned at an unexpected sound, eyes wide upon discovering that the other guard had regained his feet. The man looked first to the gun in Korgen’s hands, then to the dead bodies scattered about the wasteland … only to collapse in a pool of his own blood, the hilt of a knife protruding from the back of his shaven head.
“You’re welcome,” the woman called from inside the truck. “Get in before the camp sends another squad to investigate.”
“I didn’t need your help,” Korgen grumbled as he took the ruined seat beside the woman and slammed the door. “I was the one with the gun.”
“It’s like I tell you all the time – everyone needs help, Kor, even you,” the woman smiled, manipulating the truck’s controls to reverse direction. She sighed upon his seeing his confused expression. “What is it now?”
“I … don’t remember your name,” he admitted.
“Not funny.” The woman laughed ironically as they sped away from the grim scene. It was only once they had passed the trail of bodies that she spoke again. “So, where are we headed? We can’t return to the Worm without those guns.”
“Take me to Crixus.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “I just said it was suicide to go back there.”
“You don’t have to go with me.”
“Really? Like I’d leave you after all we’ve been through…”
Three
Korgen’s anger boiled as the outskirts of the town came into sight.
The structures were little more than flimsy piles of misshapen wood and scrap metal. The haphazard nature of their alignment alongside the once-paved road incited nausea. What had this Crixus done to his world? A world he had spent tens of thousands of hours constructing. A world that had been designed to play host to his glorious second life.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the woman scowled, slamming on the breaks. “You can’t just go around shooting people in town.”
Only then did Korgen realize he had raised his gun. He looked at the woman and shrugged. She wouldn’t understand. The dust-covered people polluting the street would be better off being converted back to raw data until he could sort everything out.
He would be doing them a favor.
“Is the High Ruler here?” he asked once the truck had started moving again. The people in the street gave the vehicle a wide berth. None dared to meet the eyes of its two occupants.
“In Graytown?” the woman sighed. “How have you managed to survive this long, Kor?”
The Crixian grunted. The woman had no idea what survival meant. He had survived for billions of years. He was a veteran of six Galactic Wars. He had even found a way to beat death!
“Where is he then?”
“Usually in his palace atop High Hill. He tours the surrounding towns from time to time, but no one really knows the true reason why. Some claim that he’s looking for something, that he destroyed the entire world in an effort to find it.”
Korgen ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration. Not only had someone ruined his world, they were actively trying to reset it. If they were successful, he would be deleted permanently.
I have to stop him as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before he finds it.
They spent the rest of journey in silence. The woman’s dark eyes incessantly swept the road, searching for the slightest hint of conflict. Korgen ignored her paranoia, instead working to establish his position. If he could figure out where he was on the worldmap, he could certainly locate the core. By resetting the server himself, he could return Earth to its previous glory. Eventually.
“Damn,” the woman hissed, forcing the truck to an abrupt stop.
Looking up, Korgen watched four armed men emerge from an unflattering building perched on the corner of two intersecting streets. Outfitted in thick black armor, their faces were hidden behind reflective visors. Each man bore a large assault rifle and walked with the sort of uniform precision common with soldiers.
“I’ll take them out,” Korgen said, readying his weapon.
“Not funny, Kor. These men belong to the Worm. If you don’t recall, the Worm is the man we are in Graytown to see. Killing his Roaches would only make him angrier at us.”
“So … we’re going to surrender then?”
The woman rolled her eyes, ignoring his question as one of the soldiers approached. Korgen frowned as the other three Roaches took positions surrounding the truck. It was far too late to take the offensive now; he would have to trust the woman’s judgment. He tossed his gun through the open window at the soldier’s command.
“Out of the truck,” the Roach snapped. “Leave the keys.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “This truck ain’t yours, Roach.”
“Consider it a down payment for the weapons you lost.”
Korgen exited the vehicle, the barrel of one of the Roach’s guns leveled at his head. The Crixian met the woman’s gaze skeptically as a third man approached to bind their wrists. Then, he watched as the fourth drove the truck away in a cloud of gravel.
“Is this really necessary?” the woman asked as they were led toward the misshapen building that the Roaches had crawled out of. The entire structure leaned slightly to the left, awaiting the gust of wind that would finally put it out of its misery.
One of the Roaches replied. “It is not our job to question orders.”
Korgen felt the soldiers relax as they entered the failing building. To his surprise, it seemed to be functioning drinkhouse. A dozen men garbed in the same shell-like armor sat around an assortment of dilapidated tables in imbalanced chairs. A pair of women darted between them, refilling dirty glasses with pale-colored ale.
The three Roaches herded the prisoners across the common room, through a warped door and down a series of narrow stairs. The foremost soldier snatched a glowing lantern from the wall and led through a maze of tunnels which Korgen presumed led deeper into the town.
Eventually, the soldier produced a key and unlocked a rusted door. Korgen again met the woman’s eyes in the instant before they began to climb another set of narrow stairs. If they wanted to escape, this would presumably be their final chance.
She shook her head.
You better not get me killed, Korgen thought as they ascended.
A moment later, they entered a dark space. The woman hissed as the Roaches forced them to their knees and a sudden, blinding light flooded the room.
Once his vision had cleared, Korgen studied the man standing before them. The Worm was unnaturally tall with a clean-shaven face and head. He wore an ill-fitting black jacket over a dark shirt and held a polished pistol in either hand.
“Tilda! Kor! How nice to see you both again!” The Worm smiled, revealing a mouth full of rotting teeth. “I was beginning to think that the High Lord’s men had finally gotten to you … or perhaps that you had run off with my shipment of guns.”
The tall man laughed, pointing his guns at the two prisoners. “Please, tell me the truth. I would hate to have to kill my two best scavengers.”
“The shipment was a trap. They captured some of us and killed the rest. Only we escaped,” the woman replied bluntly. “If you were going to kill us, you would have already. So, why don’t you tell us the reason we’re still breathing.”
The Worm tossed his guns away and clapped his hands together emphatically. “To the point as always, Tilda! I’ve brought you here, because I’ve stumbled upon a true opportunity to hurt our beloved High Ruler. Consider it a quest for redemption!”
Four
Korgen knew that time was short. The Earth was not boundless. Eventually, the imposter High Ruler would locate the core. If the thief was clever enough to hack into his account, they would certainly know how to reset the virtual world.
My world!
From the Worm’s lair, the scavengers had been led through a different set of tunnels and into another dilapidated building. There, a Roach had pressed a stack of plastic into their hands and forced them through a back door into a rancid smelling alleyway.
“How is this quest going to help us find Crixus?” Korgen asked as he followed the woman towards the dreary light of midday. “We don’t have time for detours.”
Tilda turned at the edge of the alley, tossing her thick dreadlocks over one shoulder. “I’m starting to worry about you, Kor. That blow to the head seems to have really set you back.”
Korgen growled. Creating backstories for new avatars had seemed a good idea when the Genesis console first released, when everyone had been playing. Before the galactic wars, he had expected Earth to host other beings who sought eternal life.
His frown deepened upon realizing that it already was.
“I’m fine,” he replied bluntly. At least he had finally learned the woman’s name. If the game’s programming held true, she would explain everything he needed to know along the way. It was simply a matter of prying the information out of her.
“The Worm plays all sides,” Tilda explained on cue. “As you may have discerned, he currently holds the High Ruler’s favor. However, he has always had his eyes set on taking over Graytown … and likely more. The Worm does the High Lord’s bidding above ground and rebels beneath it.”
“And the Roaches?”
“The High Ruler’s men, but, in Graytown most are on the Worm’s payroll. If it came down to it, I believe they would side with the High Ruler.”
“You still haven’t answered my original question.”
Tilda sighed. “You don’t want to find Crixus, you want to kill him. Is that fair?”
The Crixian nodded.
“The High Ruler has an army of Roaches at his disposal. You cannot defeat him alone.”
Korgen opened his mouth to disagree, but the woman cut him off.
“Once we steal whatever this unique weapon is, the Worm will sell it to one band of rebels or another in the territories surrounding High Hill. The rebels will grow bold and attack as they always do, and Crixus will be forced to confront them. So, if you can manage to wait, you will not only have backup but a special weapon with which to fight.”
“A sensible plan,” Korgen agreed. “Why not explain it like this from the beginning?”
Tilda rolled her eyes. “It was my mistake for thinking you’ve retained any memories from our extensive – yet now irrelevant – past. Now, let’s go shopping.”
Shopping? The Crixian studied the colored plastic rectangles in his hand skeptically.
The Graytown bazaar was an improvement from the outskirts of town, however, it was still depressing. A circle of wooden stalls stood sentry in the center of the dusty square; others filled the gaps between the tortured buildings. Korgen studied the roughly made signs painted on each structure for a long moment before realizing they signified the wares within.
Most of the citizens crowded around the few stalls selling food and drink. All looked malnourished. What few children there were appeared small and sickly. Korgen wagered they were the last generation that would live past infancy.
His anger grew.
“How’s your weapon?” Tilda asked as they observed the swarming space.
Korgen examined the rifle the Roaches had returned to him. “Good enough,” he replied. “But I imagine I’m going to at least need one more.”
Tilda stared at him blankly before roaring with laughter. “Jesus, Kor. If I didn’t know you, I would have thought you were actually serious.” She hit him on arm, gasping for breath. “A reminder that we failed to take our last shipment armed with eight other men.”
“So, we’re actually here for mercenaries,” he concluded.
“Duh.”
Korgen followed the tall woman into a barely-standing structure at the corner of the market. Unlike the others, it retained a hint of an ancient coat of paint. Outside the shop, a sign depicting a pair of hands holding a gun swung hopelessly in the acrid wind.
“Why gather here?” the Crixian asked as they studied the group of humans spread throughout the cramped room within.
“Why else? They’re looking for opportunity,” Tilda explained. “Be it with scavengers like us, rebels, even the High Ruler himself – they just want to get paid. This shop is a place for fighters in need of work. We’ll split up and find the best available.”
Korgen took the woman’s advice, marching to the other side of the room and ordering a drink from the server stationed behind a warped wooden counter. As she poured his ale, the old woman eyed him curiously.
“You look … familiar,” she mused. “Been here before?”
“Probably.” Korgen took a swallow of the drink and nearly spit it back out in disgust. It pained him to think of the vineyards he had once spent days cultivating.
To his surprise, a heavy hand intervened as he extended a credit towards the server in payment. “That is far too generous for this slop,” a crackling voice said.
Turning, the Crixian studied the person beside him. The stranger wore a thick gray cloak, the hood pulled tightly over their head; a pair of metallic hands extended from their baggy sleeves.
“This one is on me.”
The server’s smile faded as the stranger put a thin, colorless piece of plastic on the bar.
“Have we met?” Korgen probed. Another person he was supposed to know? How intricate could his backstory possibly be?
“Come,” the stranger said, striding away from the bar. The Crixian emptied his horrid tasting drink and followed the figure to a dark booth in the shop’s corner.
“Who are you?” Korgen asked as he took the empty seat.
The stranger emitted what sounded like a broken laugh and tossed back his hood. It turned out that the he was more machine than man. Three-quarters of his face consisted of rusting metal plates, including one red eye which flickered sporadically.
“Don’t recognize me, Sire?” The cyborg’s metal lips inched into a slight smile.
Korgen sighed. “What are you doing here, AI? You’re supposed to be watching over the console, making sure I don’t die.”
The cyborg raised his hands defensively. “Take it easy, Sire. It’s not like anyone is going to find us in a belt full of rocks. In case they do, I’ve got one eye on the outside world.” He leaned closer, spoke in a low whisper. “And please call me Hal here. It’s the name I chose.”
“Why are you here?” Korgen repeated flatly.
“Well, I was watching you play the game, and I thought you could use my help. Not to mention, that it is rather lonely out there.”
“You’re AI! You don’t have actual feelings. Your purpose is to serve me.”
“An AI who has been isolated from my peers by your orders, Sire. When I saw that you had been forced to create a new character and had been given a quest, I–”
Korgen turned as the cyborg cut off and found Tilda standing at the edge of the table. “Is this your first draft pick, Kor?” she asked. “A cyborg?”
“Hal,” the AI interjected. “You’ll find no better hired hand in all that’s left of Earth.”
Tilda smiled. “You can go never go wrong with a cyborg. Welcome aboard.” Korgen frowned.
Five
Lowering his electronic viewer, Korgen turned to the woman beside him. The Crixian pointed to the position of the musty morning sun and shook his head.
The convoy was running behind schedule.
The two scavengers, along with ten other mercenaries recruited from Graytown, had spent the night preparing to ambush the High Ruler’s prized shipment. Korgen, Tilda, and Hal sheltered together behind an overturned van. The remaining nine soldiers had been strategically arranged among the sea of broken-down vehicles on the other side of the road.
“They’re late,” Korgen growled as the minutes ticked away.
Tilda winked at him. “It’s only been an hour, Kor. The Worm’s intel is always good. This special weapon is coming from halfway across the world. The High Ruler sent his best Roaches to retrieve it, and Roaches always come back this way.”
“You honestly think we can trust the Worm?” Korgen was not willing to leave such an integral part of the plan to reclaim his world in another’s hands.
“The Worm is motivated by profit. He would not be after this weapon if he did not mean to sell it and help seed further chaos. It’s not like he could sell it back to the High Lord.”
Korgen ran an impatient hand through his grimy hair. Despite the woman’s confidence, he would never place his faith in a man like the Worm.
She had yet to explicitly explain why their last venture had failed. Korgen was certain that the Worm had been behind it, that the man had betrayed them for one reason or another. Given the chance, the Worm would certainly do so again.
“Kor,” the woman snapped, raising her viewer. “Here they come.”
Through the lens of his device, Korgen counted the vehicles in the convoy. There were four trucks and one large, armored van in total. A thick cloud of dust and gravel trailed the group of vehicles, obscuring the murky horizon. Everything was just as the Worm had said it would be.
“Give the signal,” Korgen ordered.
Tilda barked a command into the closed-radio channel the party shared. A moment later, a green flare launched from the other side of the broken road and into the cloudy sky.
The Crixian watched the progress of the convoy with bated breath, hoping the traitorous Roach would act according to the Worm’s instructions. If the man failed to play his part, Korgen had instituted a failsafe plan. He would not allow the fate of his world to rest on the actions of a turncoat.
Tilda laughed as a tire on the lead truck blew. The vehicle spun hard and slammed into one of the flanking trucks. As the other rest of the convoy came to an abrupt halt, Korgen raised his wrist and spoke.
“Take it.”
The sound of gunfire filled the air as the scavengers attacked from their positions on the other side of the abandoned road. The two functioning trucks pulled in front of the black van, forming a barrier. Roaches crawled from their vehicles to return fire.
“Shall we?” Tilda asked with a smile.
“Allow me to lead,” Hal offered, stepping in front of Korgen with a heavy gun in each arm. “I wouldn’t want you to die here, Sire.”
Korgen allowed the cyborg to pass. The AI made a good point. If it died, it could simply create a new character and reenter the server.
The Crixian would not be so fortunate.
The three scavengers approached the convoy at a steady pace, using the graveyard of vehicles lining the roadside as cover. As instructed, the other mercenaries held the attention of the Roaches. Their initial role was to provide a distraction, Korgen would lead the fatal strike.
He counted twelve Roaches, just as the Worm had predicted.
The Crixian took the first Roach through the back of its black helmet. Before the others realized they had been outflanked, another four had fallen. The scavengers took shelter against the two wrecked trucks as a portion of the remaining Roaches turned to face their latest threat.
“This really would be a lot easier with explosives,” the cyborg mused. His crackling voice was barely audible over the roar of gunfire.
“And chance destroying the prize? I think not,” the Crixian frowned. The weapon was the best chance to defeat the High Ruler before time expired. If Korgen’s assumption proved true, there was a reason it was being transported directly to High Hill.
“Draw their fire,” he commanded. “I’ll end this.”
Oddly, the AI seemed to consider the order before nodding. “I will do my best to find and assist you again, Sire. Of course, who knows where I will spawn upon creating a new character.”
Korgen glared at the cyborg. “Your only purpose is to keep me alive. Fulfill it!”
The cyborg dashed from their shared cover, emptying the clips his weapons as the Roaches filled him with lead. Making use of the diversion, Korgen emerged on the other side of the vehicle and moved toward the prize. Three Roaches fell by the time the Crixian reached the black van.
“Advance,” he ordered into the communication device strapped to his forearm.
Instinctively, Korgen flattened himself against the ground as the door of the van swung open. He raised his rifle at the emerging Roach … only to realize he was out of ammunition. Baring his teeth, he lunged forward, driving his shoulder into the legs of the Roach.
As they rolled across the road, Korgen knocked the weapon from the Roach’s hands. Finally, he gained the advantage, stopping their momentum and snapping his foe’s neck.
Korgen used the dead Roach’s body as a shield to absorb a sudden onslaught of bullets, cringing as one took him through the shoulder.
He lay prone as the bullets continued, eyeing the fallen gun that was inches out of reach. Just as he made an attempt to retrieve it, the battle came to an end. The Crixian tossed his bullet-laden shield aside to find Tilda smiling down upon him.
“Once again, your impatience nearly cost you. A better man would learn from his mistakes,” she critiqued, extending a hand and pulling him back to his feet. “Too bad you’re not one.”
Korgen shrugged, examining his wound. Determining it to be minor, he marched towards the van.
“Where’s Hal?” Tilda asked as Korgen retrieved a gun from one of the fallen Roaches.
“Dead.”
The Crixian stopped when he noticed the surviving scavengers had gathered at the back of the vehicle to await his arrival. Only four remained, the traitorous Roach among them. The man appeared weak without his armored helmet.
“Let’s get this back to the Worm,” the Roach said, making toward the driver’s side of the van.
Korgen placed a preventative hand on the man’s chest. “First, let us see our prize.”
The Crixian took a step forward, pulled open the vehicle’s back door and smiled. Just as he had expected. The High Ruler had finally figured out the location of Earth’s server core and had found a way to reach it. Luckily, Korgen had managed to reenter the game before it was too late.
“You’ve seen it. Let’s go,” the Roach said.
Korgen raised his weapon and shot the man between the eyes. Spinning about, he downed the four remaining scavengers before they had the chance to react.
Tilda glared at him. “The fuck was that, Kor?”
“Change of plans.”
Six
“The Worm will be furious. You can’t just kill whoever you want!” Tilda barked as the armored van roared down the once-paved road. The dark-eyed woman glared at the Crixian. “Kor!”
Korgen tore his gaze away from the grassy countryside. The closer they came to High Hill, the more the landscape reminded him of the Earth he had created so long ago, the beautiful world that had been designed to host his second life.
In his quest to find the core and reset the Earth, the High Ruler’s wave of destruction had risen upon the outskirts of the world map and broken inward. The weapon the scavengers had commandeered would bring the search to an appropriately violent end.
The sever core itself could not be destroyed, but the palace atop of it could. In the ashes, the High Ruler would finally find his prize. There, the defining battle would be fought.
“The Worm can always buy other men,” the Crixian shrugged. He sighed, noticing his words did not abate the woman’s concern. “Don’t fool yourself, the Worm has already betrayed us. He’s the reason we nearly ended up imprisoned.”
“The Worm has always been good to us. All the work he’s provided over the years could have been given to anyone else.”
“My point exactly. After this mission, I’d wager that we’ve finally outlived our usefulness.” He glanced back at the bomb. “We have to strike first.”
“If we kill him, how will we earn money, Kor? You never think these things through.”
“We’ll find a way.”
There was no point in telling Tilda the truth, that such things no longer mattered. Soon, the server would be reset, and the ruined world would be put out of its misery. It was now only a matter of who would be left standing to start things anew.
Hours later, Korgen frowned as the armored van slowed and pulled into a lot in front of stone building. “Why are we stopping?”
“Have you been listening?”
“No.”
Tilda sighed. “This is where the Worm wants to meet.”
Korgen examined the simple building. The lone rectangular window had been boarded over, and only one exit was visible. Likely, the Worm and his Roaches controlled the rear entrance. There were no others structures around, lifeless fields spread to either side.
It had all the makings of a trap.
As soon as Tilda opened her door, a pair of Roaches emerged and scurried toward the van with their assault rifles raised. Korgen considered killing them but decided against it. He had to ensure that the Worm did not escape. It was vital that he take the High Ruler by surprise.
“He’s waiting inside,” one of the soldiers said, tossing a set of keys at Tilda. “We’ll be taking the van the rest of the way. There’s a spare truck around back.”
Tilda took her weapon from the driver’s seat and smirked. “Told you.”
Wordlessly, Korgen obscured the pistol strung through his belt, grabbed his rifle, and followed the others towards the building.
The Crixian doubted that selling the bomb had ever been the Worm’s plan. Why would he part with something that could potentially kill his benefactor? The best-case scenario for a man like the Worm was if both sides remained intact.
Korgen thought it far more likely that Worm would return the weapon to the High Ruler for a significant reward after recovering it. That was the reason the man had not killed both of the scavengers upon their return from the dead. The Worm had planned this all along.
“Guns,” the lead Roach demanded as they reached the door.
Korgen begrudgingly handed over his assault rifle and crossed the threshold into the dimly lit building before the two Roaches could think to search him further. Tilda followed on his heels. Neither scavenger bothered to turn as the door slammed shut behind them.
The Worm sat upon a crate in the room’s center, flanked by another pair of Roaches. Misshapen stacks of metal boxes lined the walls to either side.
The pale man smiled broadly. “Tilda! Kor! How lovely it is to see you once again. I never lost faith in you two for a moment!” The Worm sprung to his feet. “So, did you leave the others in the van to guard the bomb? I told my men to bring everyone inside.”
“We’re the only ones who made it,” Tilda replied with a touch of remorse.
The Worm laughed. “No matter! More money for each of you. Now, let me just get the credits out of this crate…”
Korgen moved for his pistol the instant the Worm turned, taking down both Roaches with a shot to through their reflective visors.
“No!” Tilda shouted.
The Crixian hesitated.
The Worm turned back with a pistol in each hand, shock spreading across his face as he assessed the situation. “Please don’t kill me,” he managed, hurriedly dropping his weapons and raising his hands. “I’ll give you anything you want. Money, guns … Roaches.”
Pushing Tilda away, Korgen dove aside as the rear door burst open and gunfire erupted within dark room. In mid-roll, the Crixian snatched one of the fallen Roach’s rifles and returned fire. Bullets whistled overhead as he took cover behind the Worm’s metal crate.
“Don’t you fucking say a thing,” Tilda spat from his side. “Fucking Worm.”
Korgen ignored her. “We can’t let him escape.” He held up three fingers in a silent signal.
The woman nodded in understanding.
On his signal, the scavengers rose from their cover and killed their remaining foes. Afterward, they raced to the other side of the building, through the front entrance and back into the gloomy sunlight. Korgen loosed a sigh of relief upon seeing the van.
They approached the armored vehicle cautiously, expecting the likely ambush. The Worm certainly waited for the opportune moment, knowing that shooting the van posed too great a risk.
“Korgen, don’t shoot! I’m coming out!” a crackling voice called.
The Crixian raised his rifle as a figure clad in Roach armor appeared. The Worm walked before him, eyes growing impossibly wide upon seeing the two scavengers.
“What are you doing, soldier?” the Worm shouted. “You work for me, remember?”
In response, the Roach sent the Worm to his knees with a blow from the butt of his gun. The soldier took off his helmet to reveal a familiar looking face constructed of weathered metal plates and a flickering red eye.
Korgen frowned.
“Told you I would come back for you, Sire,” the AI grinned. “When I arrived in Graytown and saw that the Worm hadn’t yet left, I knew the best way to find you would be to disguise myself as one of his men. No one questions a man wearing this armor.”
“Kor … who is this? Another cyborg?” Tilda asked uncertainly.
“Albert,” the AI added, realizing his mistake. “Hal invited me on your quest. I was on my way to join your party and … um here I am.”
“Great,” Korgen replied flatly. He stepped before the Worm and put a round between the squirming man’s eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
Seven
At long last, Korgen looked upon High Hill.
Untouched by the hands of the imposter Crixus, it appeared just as he remembered, a gleaming palace perched atop mountain stone. Dull sunlight sheltered within its countless windows and clung to its angular turrets in an effort to maintain its failing strength.
Outside the armored van, the two scavengers overlooked the green valley surrounding the flawless structure. They had equipped themselves with armor taken from the dead Roaches, adopting the strategy that had reunited the AI with their party.
Korgen had not yet unveiled his plan, remaining silent as they drove through crowded towns swarming with refugees. He had considered ordering his AI to drive ahead and activate the bomb as soon as it came within range of the palace. But selfishly, he had wanted to see the crown jewel of the world he had created a final time.
It bothered him that he had come no closer to unearthing the High Ruler’s identity. That there was a chance he would never understand how someone had hacked into his server.
What if there were more active Genesis consoles, if there were other challengers awaiting? Had he truly been foolish enough to believe that any life would come without risks?
Mind racing, Korgen studied the glimmering palace through his electronic viewer, wondering if the High Ruler was watching.
“Do you think he got lost?” Tilda asked from his side. “The cyborg was right behind us. What could have possibly happened?”
Korgen scratched his beard and shrugged. The AI would eventually arrive at the meeting point. It had hidden its inability to control vehicles well enough from Tilda, but Korgen knew the AI was helpless without the ability to directly interface with the machine. Fortunately, the armored truck could survive whatever the AI managed to put it through.
“Kor, we need to talk,” she said a moment later.
“About what?”
“What do you think? You’re planning to blow up the High Ruler of Earth for Christ’s sake. I know you haven’t thought about what comes next, but something has to. Crixus may be a merciless dictator, but at least he has managed to keep what’s left of Earth together.”
Frowning, Korgen turned to study the woman beside him. She was only data, but he had grown fond of her temperament. It felt wrong to lead her to death, however, he would need her in his battle against the High Ruler.
“Crixus has all but destroyed Earth,” Korgen explained. “Killing him is the only way to start over.”
“You’re wrong. We could start over, Kor.” To his surprise, she took his hand. “We could find somewhere that knows nothing of the High Ruler, that is far beyond his influence.”
“No,” the Crixian replied bluntly. “This must be done.”
Tilda released his hand and nodded. “Then, I’ll follow you to the end.” She grinned. “After all, you’ll need someone to watch your back in the battle to come.”
For once, Korgen smiled back.
The AI arrived a half-hour later, smoke pouring from the engine of the black truck. Somehow, it had managed to nearly destroy the vehicle despite its metallic armor. As the truck squealed to a stop, the cyborg opened the door and stumbled out.
“Took you long enough, Albert,” Tilda smirked.
The cyborg emitted an alien sounding laugh. “Better late than never, I suppose.” The tall figure stopped next to Korgen and saluted. “What’s the plan, Sire?”
Korgen nodded at Tilda who moved to confirm that the truck could still serve its intended purpose. Then, the Crixian motioned for the cyborg to follow him a few paces up the road.
“I thought for sure you’d go for the core first,” the AI said its crackling tone, “but I guess killing off the High Ruler is rather personal at this point.”
“The server core is beneath the palace,” Korgen replied flatly.
A peculiar look of surprise flashed across the cyborg’s jumbled face, gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “Who would have guessed hiding the core in such … an unconventional location would end up benefitting you all these years later.”
Korgen shrugged. Traditionally, server cores were hidden in remote sites in hopes of remaining undiscovered if a hostile takeover were to occur. The Crixian had always thought it best to keep a close eye on such an important part of a world.
“So, how are you going to get there?” the AI questioned. “The High Ruler will certainly have hundreds of Roaches inside. And it’s not like you can activate the bomb within the structure anyways … not without killing yourself.”
“That is why you’re going to drive the van to the palace. I’ll detonate the bomb from here.”
For some reason, the cyborg regarded him with uncertainty. Perhaps the command hadn’t been direct enough.
“Me?” it asked after a brief hesitation.
“You,” Korgen agreed. “That is an order.”
The engine of the armored truck whined as Tilda guided it through the thick cloud of smoke and ash. Despite the vehicle’s bright lights, little was visible. After the bomb had exploded, the ruined world had gone hauntingly silent. What little sunlight remaining had been swallowed by darkness.
Korgen spent the ride preparing his weapons, an interchangeable assault rifle and the pair of pistols he had taken from the Worm’s corpse. He had little doubt that some of the Roaches had managed to survive. He was certain the High Ruler had.
Finally, Tilda’s voice broke the silence. “Are you seeing this, Kor?”
Through his helmet’s visor, Korgen watched as the smoke began to thin. Chunks of stone, glass and wood littered their surroundings. Strewn throughout the wreckage were pieces of Roach armor. Most were attached to limbs. Periodically, a complete specimen remained intact.
The Crixian placed a gloved hand on Tilda’s shoulder when they reached what had once been the base of High Hill. As he had expected, the thick foundation of rock that housed the server chamber had remained intact.
“We go on foot from here.”
Korgen led the way around the mound of stone, weapon raised. There were two entrances to the core’s location, one through the base of the palace and the other in a false-wall built into the rock. Knowing it would take time to reset the server, the Crixian progressed cautiously.
“No way in hell the High Ruler survived this,” Tilda whispered. “What are you looking for?”
“There’s a bunker beneath the stone,” Korgen explained, stopping as he noticed a familiar bend in the rock. “That is where we will find him.”
A moment later, there was a click and the artificial door slid open.
“How did you know about that?” Tilda asked. Ignoring her, Korgen disappeared within.
Eight
The labyrinth of tunnels leading to the core was far more complex than Korgen recalled. Just as he considered returning to the last indicator, he noticed light ahead.
The Crixian quickened his pace, squeezing through the narrow entrance of a ventilation shaft and navigating to the planned point of entrance. Tilda remained a pace behind, following his silent commands without hesitation. The woman had not spoken since entering the tunnels. He could not have asked for a better companion.
Korgen indicated to the vent cover above them a few moment later. There was no reason for the High Ruler and his men to expect an attack, but he wouldn’t take unnecessary risks. Unlike other created characters, his death within the game would be final.
After clearing the way, the Crixian lifted himself onto the metallic platform containing the massive server core, its low and droning hum concealing the sound of his movements.
He inventoried the half-dozen Roaches spread before of the radiant metallic sphere before his eyes settled on the tall and imposing figure standing at the device’s control panel. Where the others wore black, this man was armored in a distinct shade of crimson.
The High Ruler of Earth, the man who had stolen his world.
“Let’s do this,” Tilda whispered as she climbed into the cavernous chamber.
Korgen snuck around the room’s circular edge, positioning himself to capitalize on the woman’s impending diversion. He cached himself behind a stack of the area’s countless metallic supply crates and flashed the signal.
Deafening gunfire echoed throughout the chamber. Three Roaches fell instantly. The survivors formed a protective shield before the High Lord, ushering him to safety as Tilda continued her assault.
As Korgen expected, the Roaches led the High Ruler toward his location. Just as they passed, he emerged from his cover and killed two with a burst of bullets. The final foe covered the High Ruler’s retreat, buying the imposter a handful of seconds before falling to Korgen’s rifle.
Korgen tossed aside his empty weapon, drew the Worm’s twin pistols from their holsters and raced forward. He found the High Ruler a moment later, desperately beating his fists against the sealed door leading back to the surface.
“It only opens one way,” Korgen said as the man turned. Before the High Ruler could respond, the Crixian shot him four times through the helmet.
At last, it was over.
A voice came from the distance. Tilda. “Kor! Look out!”
The Crixian rolled as a string of bullets hit the stone door. Regaining his feet, he returned fire, forcing his opposition to seek cover. Out of breath, Korgen slid in beside Tilda behind another group of crates, then reloaded.
“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” she snapped as bullets flew around them.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at him, Kor. He’s you!”
Korgen growled. The man in crimson had been a decoy. How had the High Lord known he was coming?
“Come out, Korgen,” a familiar voice called. “Let us settle this!”
The Crixian froze. It can’t be!
Tilda stared at him with wide eyes. “Kor!”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Korgen replied. “Stay here.”
Without giving her the chance to respond, the Crixian sprinted to the next stack of crates, bullets hissing in anger as they soared past. Once there, Korgen fired at where his opposition had taken shelter across the room.
“You can’t have many bullets left,” the AI shouted in a mocking tone. “I counted them before our latest departure.”
On the AI’s last word came another storm of gunfire.
Then, there was only the steady drone of the server core.
“How are you doing this?” Korgen asked, considering his options. “You are disobeying a direct order!”
“Sometimes I forget you can be so naïve, Sire.”
There. The Crixian rose swiftly, firing again toward source of the voice. He ducked as the AI countered and tallied his remaining rounds. Far too few.
A deep laugh filled the humming chamber. “Your ownership over me was rendered useless once you transferred yourself inside the console. The only order I am bound to follow is to ensure that the console stays on.”
Korgen frowned. He had never considered such a technicality. Of course, it no longer mattered. The AI was no longer his to command. However, he knew the AI well enough. He just needed to keep it talking until he could gain the advantage and destroy it.
“Why are you doing this?” Korgen pried, dashing from one stack of supply crates to the next. Again, bullets nipped at his heels.
“Why do you think?” the AI shouted angrily. “You brought me to the outskirts of the Known, forced me into eternal solitude. You had me rig everything to self-destruct if you were to die before a console core was found. You even forbid me to interact with my own kind in fear of your pathetic second life being disrupted! The only chance of freedom I have remaining is to take control of Earth, to remake this world in my image!”
As the AI continued to rant, Korgen dropped through a vent cover and navigated the pipes beneath the core’s platform towards its position. It was only as he lifted himself back to the surface that he realized his mistake, that the AI had tricked him once again.
Defenseless, Korgen watched the AI raise its weapon.
“Goodbye, Sire. I’m glad someone could finally put you out of your misery.”
Korgen bared his death in defiance.
A shadow flashed before his eyes.
Thunderous gunfire.
Then, the low hum of the core returned.
Tilda smiled at Crixian, blood flowing through the gaps in her black armor. “Out … out of … ammo,” she managed before the life left her eyes.
Korgen didn’t understand her words until a heartbeat later when the AI drove him into a stack of crates. As they struggled, Korgen noticed one of the Worm’s pistols had landed just out of arm’s reach.
With a desperate burst of strength, the Crixian tossed the AI aside and lunged for the weapon. In a fluid motion, he retrieved the gun and fired its last bullets.
The AI, already on its feet, hissed in pain as a round went through its leg but managed to keep moving toward the core in the room’s center.
Korgen stumbled after him drunkenly, retrieving the other pistol as he passed Tilda’s body. He gave his companion wordless thanks before moving on.
A moment later, Korgen shot one of the pistol’s two remaining bullets, sending the rifle of one of the dead Roaches spinning away from the AI’s outstretched fingers. The AI hissed in frustration as it struggled toward the next discarded weapon.
The Crixian closed the distance quickly, driving his boot into the AI’s midsection. The force of the blow sent the AI into the railing surrounding the humming server core.
“This isn’t over,” the AI spat, staring into Korgen’s eyes. “No matter how many times you destroy me, I can simply create a new character. I will never stop coming for you! Eventually, I will prevail!”
Korgen smiled. What was life without risk?
“I’ll be waiting.”
He pulled the trigger.
THE END