(This story should stand alone, but it does use characters from a previous story. If you didn't read the first Adventures of Captain Arcolier, you may want to start there first.

Jaimie smashed her ceramic beer mug upside the thug’s head in a spray of dark ale and pottery chips. “Damnit! I knew we should have held off until we could put in at Haven. Every time we come to Coventry sooner or later we get in a fight.”

The recipient of her blow dropped gracelessly to the floor with a loud thump. Tammy rolled her eyes and shrugged expressively at her Captain. “We’re just too hot for these rubes to handle. I wasn’t even flirting with him, honest!”

Jaimie snorted derisively and studied her Chief Engineer. On the ship Tammy wore her hair up in a loose bun, but for tonight’s pub crawl she had let it down into an artfully disarrayed mass of raven curls that brushed her shoulders. Those shoulders were bare, as Tammy had pulled the sleeves of her green peasant blouse far to the side and tucked in the bottom to pull the shirt tight across her chest. A skintight pair of black pants and high leather boots completed her shore leave ensemble. Jaimie arched her eyebrow and shook her head. “Girl, everything about you from clothes to attitude is a flirt for some of these goons.”

Tammy grinned with mischief, her eyes sparkling with glee. “As I said. We’re too hot for these rubes to handle.”

Jaimie looked ruefully at her own outfit, now spattered and streaked with beer foam. “Maybe I was, but I now think some fresh clothes are in order. Let’s take a quick trip back to the hotel so I can change. Then we can try that bar down by the wharf.”

“This place was dullsville anyway.” Tammy stood up and dropped a few coins on the table. “Let’s roll.”

Only a few members of the crew of the Beauteous Revenge had opted to stay in Coventry. Stinky Pete had elected to stay aboard the Revenge and supervise her repairs. The Revenge was currently in drydock orbit above the planet where she was getting a new engine installed as well as a host of minor repairs. One-Eye had lead the majority of the crew on a skiing holiday on the northern glaciers, leaving only Jaimie, Tammy, and Jonathan Walker from the bridge crew to stay in the city of Coventry proper. Of course, there were a couple of crewmembers on duty and in charge of gathering footage, just in case something interesting occurred. It was an ironic fact of Jaimie’s life that the complete camera coverage of the Revenge made the continuous footage gathering less obtrusive than what she experienced when on shore leave. She glanced briefly at the pair of hovering drones that accompanied her and Tammy on the pub crawl - the constant reminder that Captain Arcolier is never truly and completely “offstage”. Jonathan had declined to go drinking - he had found a poker game that interested him more. They had agreed to meet in the morning because Jonathan had heard of some underground hoverbike races going on outside town and he had convinced Tammy that it would be more interesting than any in-town entertainment.

That beer mug smash was a nice moment and Jaimie hoped the drones had caught it from a dramatic angle, but unless something more interesting happened this entire shore leave would be edited out of her next installment. Shore leaves were touch and go, sometimes they got fantastic footage and sometimes it was just boring. Jaimie didn’t get to be one of the top-rated franchises in gray market entertainment by spewing her entire life online. Her fans bought a particular pirate fantasy, and she had to ruthlessly prune away anything that contradicted that image.

It was an another hour before Tammy and Jaimie entered the bar Tammy had noticed earlier in the day. Outside a robotic (and quite buxom) mermaid sunned herself on a rock, waving at passersby and occasionally appearing to drink deeply from a beer mug. A neon sign by day proclaimed the dive to be known as “The Drunken Mermaid”, but now at night Jaimie noted several letters were burned out, and the lurid red glow advertising “The  runken Me  aid” made the still-drinking mermaid look very creepy.

As she pushed open the door she wrinkled her nose in disapproval. A simple dive bar was something Jaimie could enjoy but the interior of the Drunken Mermaid reeked of stale beer and vomit. Crushed peanut shells littered the floor underneath her feet, but didn’t disguise the stickiness of long-standing beer puddles. At least Jaimie told herself it was likely beer, or that she hoped it was beer. It was absurdly dim, only small lights on each table and a dim glow from the bar area. Jaimie judged this might be for the best, from what she could see it was clear that looking at any more of the bar would hardly improve the experience. She sighed theatrically and turned to Tammy. “I suppose you’ll pout all night if we don’t have at least a beer or two here?”

Tammy smirked at Jaimie and entered, not bothering to respond more than that. Jaimie shrugged her shoulders and followed Tammy inside. The small hover cams whirred behind her as one followed Tammy and the other covered the pair in a wide angle shot. Tammy went up to the bar to order beers as Jaimie made her way to the back and found an empty table where she could watch the door carefully.

Jaimie waited impatiently for Tammy’s return, scanning people in the bar. Tammy had, of course, found the youngest bartender to order from. Jaimie was surprised this lad was even old enough to serve alcohol. He certainly wasn’t going to be old enough to handle Tammy’s innuendo. Tammy leaned forward and touched the boy on the arm and laughed. In the dim light Jaimie couldn’t be certain, but she’d be willing to wager the boy was blushing by now. He placed two mugs in front of Tammy who picked them up and strutted back to their table, putting enough sway in her hips to blow past “subtle”, and “exaggerated” and hit just short of “cartoon caricature”.

Tammy giggled as she slid onto the ratty bench that curved around their table. “I suspect we’ll get some free drinks this evening. The lad’s name is William - he’s going to go on a break soon and I invited him to stop by. I promised I’d introduce my famous friend.”

Jaime groaned theatrically. “I thought we were trying to keep a low profile today.”

Tammy giggled again before pulling deeply on her beer. “Not possible. I told you before, we’re just too hot for these rubes to handle!”

It was ten minutes before William approached the table, and he brought a pair of beers with him. Tammy winked at Jaimie as she saw the lad approach.

“H . . H … Here you are.” William stuttered, flushing as his tongue betrayed his nervousness. “On … On M-me!”

“I wouldn’t dream of having the beer on you, William! We’ve only just met. I’ll drink my mine from the mug if you’d please.” Tammy laughed throatily as she patted the bench beside her and took a beer with her other hand. “Come. Sit down and rest a bit. We don’t bite. Usually.”

William blushed even redder as Jaimie kicked Tammy under the table. Jaimie smiled gently at the boy and took her own mug. “Thank you for the beer, young William. I’m Captain Jaimie Arcolier. Perhaps you’ve head of my ship, the Beauteous Revenge?”

William sat gingerly on the very edge of the bench, as far from Tammy as he could manage. He folded his hands on the tabletop, visibly trembling as he did so. “Cor! Of course, I’ve heard of the Revenge. All my friends watch your vids whenever we can find them! That one where One-Eye dueled the miner while you snuck in and offloaded all his ore? That’s a classic!”

Jaimie grinned crookedly and leaned back against the bench, spreading her left arm along the back. “Yes we ll. He did owe us that ore after losing it to me in the races. That was a fun expedition though I’ll warrant. Can you give us any tips on the races tomorrow?”

William’s jaw dropped. “Will you be going to the races tomorrow? Will the rest of the crew be there? One-Eye? Stinky Pete?”

Tammy made a moue and lightly touched William on his shoulder. Jaimie had to repress a chuckle when William flinched under the contact before straightening himself upright again. “What? Are you saying that Jaimie and I aren’t impressive enough for you? Fickle aren’t you?” Tammy said.

“W-what? N-n-no! I only m-meant that ….” William floundered only to be cut short when a large woman grabbed his arm.

“William! You’re supposed to be on break, not pestering the …“, the woman broke off to look distastefully at Jaimie and Tammy, “so-called customers. I’m sure these … women have something better to do than listen to your tales.”

Jaimie looked at the women closely, noticing her stained apron and graying hair restrained in a hair net. Clearly this woman had recently been in the kitchen and had emerged only to pull William aware from the table.

“But Ma! She asked me to stop by on my break. I was only telling them about the race and that ….”

William’s mother shook him by his arm until he fell silent. “Quiet you. Go to the back and help Arthur tap the new kegs!” She shoved him towards the back unceremoniously.

William looked back at Jaimie and Tammy, his face crimson now and even his ears colored red. His mother shook him again and frogmarched him back through the rear service door.

Jaimie laughed and saluted Tammy with her mug before taking a long drink. “I think you may have scared the lad’s mother there Tammy.”

“Me?” Tammy fluttered her eyelashes in a hopeless attempt to look innocent. “I nearly widdled myself when that old battleaxe approached us. You’d have thought I was outside the kindergarten with a van and a huge sack of candy!”

Jaimie choked on a mouthful of beer at that description and took a moment to compose herself before replying. “No more aggravating the mamma bears. Low profile remember?”

Tammy grinned at her captain. “What did I tell you? Too hot for these rubes. Even the mothers are scared!”

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Tags: Fiction, ThingAWeek, ShoreLeave, CaptainArcolier

(If you didn't read the first two chapters you'll want to start here and then read last week's.)

“Careful Danny,” cautioned Bobby. “I’m pretty sure that Pete will be angry if you get scragged after he busted us in here.”

Danny nodded absently, not turning around to look at his friends as he scanned the passage for any sign of motion. “Of course. I have done this before you know. But nobody should be expecting us coming from this direction. C’mon, you know this is going to work. How many times have we done this?”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at his friend’s back. “With a controller? Hundreds. This is the first time I remember having an actual gun and a bagful of syringes.”

Pete punched Bobby lightly on the arm and grinned exuberantly. “I know! You have to admit it’s pretty cool!”

Bobby tried to look serious but gave up as his responding smile got away from him. “OK. It is damn cool. Especially since I’m not the one who had to blow himself up in order to get this far.”

“Shhh!” Danny finally turned his head around to study his companions. “We’re almost at the stairs. From here on out there’s a real risk of patrols. Operational silence is in effect, OK?”

“Sure Danny. Maybe you should use your suppressor then?” Pete pointed at the barrel of Danny’s assault rifle.

“Oh. Right.” Danny sheepishly grinned at Pete and patted a few spots on his bandolier before finding the long perforated cylinder. “I’m used to that being auto-attached at the start of the round.” He screwed the threaded tip into his barrel with a few deft twists and hefted the weapon briefly, assessing the shift in weight balance.

“OK. Now we’re in operational silence.” Danny nodded at Bobby and Pete who in turn nodded back. Danny pointed a his forked fingers at his eyes and then jabbed towards the door at the end of the passageway. He pressed against the wall and slid down to where he could reach the door controls. He slapped the dimly pulsing emerald pad on the wall and quickly poked his head and gun barrel around the frame even as the door finished sliding aside.

Danny scanned the landing beyond the door. A simple wooden staircase ascended there, going through three turns, each with a wide landing. Where the human base had positively gleamed from every possible surface the Fallen base looked on the edge of total collapse. The rotted wood swayed gently in the air current and Danny wrinkled his nose at the strong odor of mildew and rot that pervaded the room.

“No smell when we play at home either.” Danny muttered to himself before recalling his own call for operational silence. He straightened up and scanned what he could see of the first landing above. The Fallen that stay on defense usually congregate on the main floor, but Danny had encountered particularly canny patrols on these stairs in previous runs. He reached behind him and gestured his squad forward into the squalid room.

Danny didn’t wait for Bobby and Peter, instead opting to slowly creep up the stairs. He winced as a termite squished under his feet with a oily squirt. He stopped on the last stair before the landing and carefully scanned every inch of the wooden platform. A mere handful of times Danny had seen the Fallen trap this landing. The first time he encountered a snare here all three of the Grim Reaperzzz had gotten wiped by the claymore and Danny had sworn to never fall for that trick again. But the floor looked free of any devices this time.

Danny jumped in shock as Bobby bumped into his back. Danny spun around as he landed on the landed and glared at Bobby. “Jesus, Bobby. Be a little more careful!” Danny hissed.

“Sorry.” Bobby muttered as dropped his gaze to study the putrid, rotten timber balks underfoot.

The three boys made their way up the rest of the staircase without incident. Finally they reached the top and stood in a loose semicircle around the exit door. The green doorpad glimmered in the dim light streaming down from a filthy skylight.

Danny glanced at his friends and then pressed up against the wall before tapping the doorpad.  It was virtually guaranteed that there would be Fallen present in the next room. If Danny was lucky they would all be expecting a frontal assault and looking away from the boys. Danny rolled through the door trying to be silent as he scuttled in and dove for the meager cover of a trio of rusty barrels that sat six feet to the side.

Today Fate smiled on the Grim Reaperzzz. Only two Fallen were in the room, a Wretch and a LeaDäemon. The Wretch was the standard Fallen grunt unit. The LeaDäemon was another story. It stood a full eight feet tall and was completely covered in spiked rusty iron armor. The entire torso was taken up with an enormous machine gun spliced into the Fallen’s tissue. A segmented robotic tail thrashed behind the LeaDäemon. The implanted gun was so large that in order to fire the Fallen had to rock back onto the tail and create a stable tripod with its two stocky legs. Danny drew a careful bead on the Wretch. He knew that Bobby would snipe the LeaDäemon and a careful headshot could still drop even such a large Fallen.

Bobby crouched beside the doorframe and listened carefully. When he didn’t hear a firefight he knew that Danny had reached cover and that he wanted something sniped. Bobby inched forward until he could peek around the corner. He nodded to himself with satisfaction as he saw the LeaDäemon and brought his sniper rifle into play. Bobby checked to the side and confirmed Danny was in position and waiting before he put his eye to the large scope. A quick alignment, a momentary squeeze of the trigger and the LeaDäemon dropped. A low cough from Danny’s weapon sounded and the Wretch fell as well. Danny advanced to an open hallway as Bobby crouched and dashed to the cover that Danny had just vacated.

Pete pressed himself against the doorway and peered into the room. He smiled at the sight of the Wretch and dashed across the space. He dropped his pistol on the ground as he took the heavier rifle the Wretch had clutched to its chest. There was one more room to clear and it was going to be a nasty fight. Usually they could scrounge a rifle for Pete before going for the flag. Pete hated the rare occasion where they couldn’t and he had to face down Wretches with just the pistol.

Danny looked down the hallway and then gestured with two fingers to another hallway entrance past him. Pete took up station on one side and then nodded curtly at Bobby who moved to the other side of Pete’s entrance. If the Fallen were using standard tactics there would likely be three or four warriors in the flag room, as well as some booby traps on the flag itself. Like a smoothy oiled engine the three boys advanced down their respective hallways to their final firefight.

As expected the final room held another LeaDäemon and two Wretches. Bobby knew this was a critical moment. He would really only get one shot at the LeaDäemon and if he missed it would be an tough fight. Standard tactics said to take out a LeaDäemon with grenades but the Reaperzzz had already used them all to blow the sewer door and sneak into the base. He took a deep breath then leaned out and took his shot.

Success! The LeaDäemon fell with a metallic clash. The two Wretches spun around, firing before they had any clear targets. Danny had removed his suppressor before advancing down the hallway and now he stepped into the room, his assault rifle barking a measured response to the Wretches’ panicky fire. One Wretch dropped even as the other got a bead on Danny. A round slammed into Danny’s shoulder and he cried out in sudden pain, the remainder of his burst spraying wide. Bobby dropped his sniper rifle and dashed forward, grabbing a syringe from his ba g as he ran. Pete entered the fray and dropped the remaining Wretch with a sharp burst from his scavenged rifle.

Bobby injected Danny as Pete scanned the dais in the center of the room. Everything in the Fallen base reeked of decay and ruin except for this stand. A round platform made entirely of shiny metal rose in two steps to a golden stand and flagpole. The Fallen flag flew from the rod, a bilious green field embossed with a grinning skull. A small spotlight on the ceiling bathed the poduim and flag with soft white light.

Pete reached into a pocket and withdrew a small scanner. This device was about the size of a remote control and sported a cute little miniature satellite dish. The dish spun rapidly, completing an entire revolution in just under a second. He tapped a button on the scanner and a green cone swept out from the dish. As it covered the floor of the dais the laser cone revealed pale cylinders. The cylinders appeared limned in emerald but that glow quickly faded to a sullen crimson. Pete grunted with satisfaction and plucked a pair of wire clippers from his belt. He set the scanner down on the dais and swiftly clipped a wire on each cylinder. As he worked the clipped cylinders faded to a dull, leaden gray.

Pete nodded at his friends, breaking out in a huge grin. All three boys started forward to touch the flag at the same instant, the triumphant moment of the Grim Reaperzzz. Even as they touched the flagpole the world swam and went hazy and indistinct before fading into a thick gray fog.

“Thank you boys. The forces of Light will long remember this victory.” the voice of Puck rang out from the fog before everything faded to black.

***

“Boys? Time to wake up!” The voice sounded odd, like something halfway between Puck’s bellow and a motherly contralto.

The three boys shook their heads in eerie unison, each trying to determine if that had simply been an unusually vivid dream or if something much more significant had transpired.

“Boys! Come on now, I’ve made pancakes!” As she spoke the voice resolved into the tones of Bobby’s mother. The boys looked at each other in mute surprise and then studied the decidedly non-reflective walls of Bobby’s living room. Bobby shrugged at his friends as if to say “Who knows?” and tossed his blanket on the floor and stood up.

“Do we have blueberry syrup?” Bobby asked as he padded into the kitchen.

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Tags: Fiction, ThingAWeek, WelcomeToGameworld

(If you didn't read last week's installment you'll want to start here.)

“And I still say that expecting us to fight without armor is a sack of rotten donkey balls!” Danny hissed at Bobby and Pete. He hitched his thumb under one of his grenade bandoliers and shifted his weight. “These grenades chafe without some serious armor. We’re the Grim Reaperzzzz - we’ve earned the Wakasashi XII stealth impact armor and you know it!”

The three boys crouched beside a closed and imposing door. The door was a round hatchway capable of holding against twenty atmospheres of pressure. Worse, it appeared to have been cast in a single piece from solid iridium. Pete had accidentally shot his light across the door and vibrant purple spots still danced in the edges of all three boys’ vision. No fewer than five chains locked the door closed, the links as big around as Bobby’s wrist.

“Shut it Danny. You heard Puck - this is a new leaderboard. The Reaperzzzz don’t have any credit here.”

“I don’t care. We should at least get the Noobie XLS protectors then. Charging into battle with our PJ’s? That’s crap.” Danny muttered sullenly before falling silent and cradling his rifle close to his chest.

 Puck had left them here, saying that “the others” would handle base defense. What they needed was for the Reaperzzzz to perform their signature move - the Grim Violent Rush. The three boys specialized in breaking into the opposing base and capturing the enemy flag insanely quickly. The secret of accomplishing it was the boys’ most prized possession and they had never shared the trick with anyone. In the few moments of briefing Puck had said that “the Forces of Light” were far behind in points and were counting on the Reaperzzzz to get them enough score to avoid elimination.

CLUNK! the chains withdrew from the massive portal as the locks evaporated into whiffs of sparkly smoke. A trumpet sounded somewhere above, indicating the round had begun. Finally the round blast door rolled left into the wall, revealing a dark corridor with a thin trickle of greenish sludge in the middle.

Despite his carping, Danny was a Grim Reaperzzzz and he knew his role well. He rolled through the doorway as soon as it cracked enough to admit his form, flicking on his light as he moved into the dank sewer corridor.

“MARK!” said Bobby, clicking a button on his watch and then smoothly slipping forward. He withdrew a wicked-looking syringe from his doctor’s bag. The syringe body pulsed with an unusual ruby glow. As the door thudded into the full open position Pete waddled forward, weighed down to almost immobile by all the explosives he carried.

“One minute until tide reversal. We have to reach Access Alpha in sixty seconds” Bobby recited. The trio headed off down the pipe.

It took Danny and Bobby only thirty seconds to reach the ladder up to the small room the Reaperzzzz called Access Alpha. A lone Fallen wretch stood below the ladder, but Bobby smoothly returned the syringe to his bag and drew his comically long sniper rifle. He accidentally scraped the barrel along the roof of the the pipe, wincing as the sound echoed and the wretch turned, sniffing at the humid sewer air.

“Bobby! Don’t be a noob!” Danny muttered urgently.

Bobby shrugged as he put his eye to the oversize scope. He exhaled carefully and lined his sights on the top of the wretch’s skull. A careful squeeze and his target exploded in a gory mass of gibs. The now-headless body hit the pipe floor with a sodden thump.

“Noob that, Danny. One shot one kill, y’know. Sniper medics for the win. Always.” Bobby held out a fist with an air of nonchalance. The effect was ruined when his hand shook slightly but Danny tapped knuckles with a fist of his own and overlooked the shaking.

Pete lumbered up, sweating fiercely under all his gear. He peeked around the bend and then grinned. He reached over his shoulder and pounded his fist against Bobby’s without looking back. “Prime work Bobby. My turn!” He scuttled forward, tugging a gray rectangle from his bandolier. He reached up on tiptoes and carefully adhered it to the trapdoor blocking the ladder. He hurried back around the bend as Bobby checked his watch worriedly.

“Ten seconds guys.” Bobby nodded tensely at Peter and reached up to plug his ears with both hands. Pete flipped a pair of ear protectors down from his hat and looked over at Danny. Danny nodded and jammed his finger in his own ears, hunching down to get away from the bend. Pete grinned and made a thumbs-up gesture as he pushed the red button on a remote he carried in his other hand.

BOOM! The sound reverberated in the narrow pipe. Just as it started to fade an echo rolled back from the far end. Pete dashed for the ladder, leaving his ear protectors down in his haste. Bobby and Danny hastened down the tube after him, and all three swarmed up the ladder as fast as Pete’s gear let him travel.

Pete was only halfway up the ladder when a rumbling began to grow in the air. Bobby glanced at his watch and shoved at Danny above him. “That’s time! The tide will be here almost any second. Go!”

Pete made it up the ladder and sprawled on the floor above panting as a rushing wall of water rounded the bend. Danny swung over the lip onto the floor as the water nibbled at Bobby’s heels. By the time Bobby made in through the blown-open hatch the water had filled the pipe over two-thirds full. Bobby looked down at the wet knee-high stain on his pants and shook his head. “That was slow Pete. Time is marked at now! Mark!” Bobby punched a button on his watch just as water filled to the top of the sewer and lapped at the edges of the trapdoor.

Bobby glanced at his two friends. “OK then, We’ve got a minute and a half before the sewer drains enough to move. Time to catch our breath. Any idea what’s going on? Is any of this real?”

“I can’t see how it could be. I mean, it’s a game right? We’ve played hours of it before.” Danny said.

“Besides,” huffed Pete. “I can run faster that this in real life. I’m not really carrying that much more than you, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it at the ladder. That’s the game talking, not me.”

Bobby stared off into the distance before he responded. When he did speak his words came slowly as he continued to think. “On the other hand, does it really matter. I mean . . . I shot that wretch. And it wasn’t like the game, it seemed much more real. Maybe it’s a game, maybe it’s a dream, but I think I’m going to act as if the bullets are all too real.”

Danny drew a deep breath but before he could speak Bobby’s watch beeped. Bobby shook his head as his eyes returned to focus on the hatchway. “That’s our mark. Time to head out. We should be able to reach the base before the next tide cycle.” The water visible in the hatch began to churn and seethe as the level dropped. Danny extended a hand and pulled Pete to his feet as Bobby descended the ladder.

It was an uneventful slog for the boys to reach their destination, although Danny did slip and fall, coating his pajamas in a pungent glowing green goop from head to foot. Their final goal was a forbidding heavy oaken door. This door dropped from the ceiling like a portcullis and was banded with chunky black iron straps. This was their secret - the location for the Grim Violent Rush. This door was considered impregnable by most Stigmata players. In the last three minutes of the match the door would open as an identical door opened in the human’s home base. But after much experimentation the boys had determined that the door was actually destructible, it just took an im mense amount of firepower.

Bobby looked at Peter and gulped, his eyes opening wide. “Are . . . are you ready Pete? I think this may hurt a bit.”

Peter laughed harshly. “I gotta. There’s just no other way through that door. And yeah, I bet it does hurt. You just do your part, I’m counting on you.”

Bases in Stigmata could heal. Pete could set an explosive block on the door, just as he did for the hatch at Access Alpha. But in the game the door would visibly repair and fill in the small crater. This door healed so fast that if somebody ran to a safe distance and detonated a charge the door would be restored before they returned.

Pete nodded at his friends. “OK, you know what to do. Danny, you get back to where you’re safe. Get ready with the grenades.” Danny ran down the pipe a bit while Bobby stayed closer, just a few steps away from Pete.

“Go!” Pete yelled. He ripped a block of explosive from his bandolier and set it near the top of the door. Working quickly he grabbed a second block and set it at the midpoint. As he grasped the third block Danny gently lobbed a grenade underhand to clink at Pete’s feet. Bobby turned his face away and hunched into a small ball as Pete affixed the third block, ignoring the grenade at his feet.

KABLAM!

Danny’s grenade detonated and all three blocks exploded in reaction. Several of the bulky iron bands burst and the explosion reverberated up and down the pipe.

“Holy CHRIST!” Pete screamed as he fell to one knee. He blinked away tears as he reached for another brick. Bobby lunged forward, his glowing red syringe jabbing into Pete’s back. He pressed the plunger, pulsing red goo pushing into his friend. Pete visibly healed and stood back up, attaching another brick to an unbroken metal band. He worked quickly, slapping at the questing tip of a band attempting to reknit together. Bobby tossed the empty syringe aside and uncapped a second. Pete continued to apply more explosives as Bobby worked on his back. Pete’s face flushed and began to pulse a dull red as the healing serum suffused his body. “I’m good. Get back, Bobby.”

Bobby took a quick couple of steps back and resumed his huddled posture. Even as he stepped back Danny’s second grenade rolled into position. Pete winced away from the projectile and screwed his eyes shut.

KABLAM!

“FUCK!” Pete slumped against the tube wall as Bobby sprang towards him. Pete looked terrible, streaked with soot and smeared with blood everywhere. For a couple of heartbeats after the explosion the red glow continued but his hue soon faded to an ashen pallor. Bobby pumped more healing serum into his friend as Danny came forward to rejoin his friends.

“You did it Pete!” Danny pointed at the door, where a large hole punched completely through the wood. A stout bar could be seen on the other side. Oaken splinters danced around the edge of the hole, slowly drawing together and smoothing out. Danny looked at Pete with concern. “Can you make it?”

Pete nodded and drew in a ragged breath as Bobby continued to feverishly inject him with mystery medicine. “I’ll live. Next time you can be demolitions though.” Even as he spoke his sallow complexion grew ruddier and his voice steadied. Pete reached up and grabbed yet more explosives, but this time he reached through the hole to place them on the far side of the door. He swiftly placed three bricks inside, completely emptying his bandoliers. He stepped back and drew a shiny pistol from his holster.

“That should do it. Drop a grenade in and back up.” Pete suited his actions to his words and withdrew down the pipe. Danny pulled the pin on another grenade and dropped it through the shrinking aperture as the door still struggled to heal.

All three boys hunched over as yet another KABLAM! rolled down the pipe. A brief second later there was the loud THUD! they had hoped for. They looked down the pipe to where the door had finally given up and hit the floor. Thick splintered planks littered the pipe between them and the now-open entrance to the Fallen base.

“Nice work Pete! Now we just grab the flag and we’re home-free!” Danny pulled his assault rifle off his back. “I’ll take point from here.”

The three boys walked through the exploded ruins of the door and entered the Fallen base.

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Tags: fiction, ThingAWeek, WelcomeToGameworld

“That’s BULLSHIT!” Danny threw the controller down on the couch, being careful enough to to throw it gently into a cushion, but throwing it nonetheless. “No way he got a headshot on me!”

Bobby hissed at Daniel, but it was too late. Bobby’s Mom poked her head around the doorframe and smiled at the two boys. “Now now! Language!”

Danny swallowed his bile and picked up the controller again. “Sorry Mrs. Hanson. I didn’t mean it.” He unclicked the mute switch and sullenly muttered “Good game, guys.”

Bobby’s Mom nodded benignly and smiled at her son. “One more round, OK Bobbby? Then Danny should go home, or at least call his Dad and ask if he can stay for dinner.”

Bobby’s face lit up at the implied invitation. “Can he? Thanks Mom!” He turned to his friend “Whaddaya think Danny? Want to stay for dinner?”

“Well . . . “ Danny feigned nonchalance, which fooled nobody. If Danny was lucky his father had left him a TV dinner before heading to the local sports bar. “What are you having?”

“Chili.” Bobby’s Mom said with a twinkle in her eyes and voice. “And I think we may have some chocolate ice cream left over if you boys behave.”

“OK!” Danny grinned gratefully at Bobby’s Mom. “Chili is my favorite.” He paused to think and then turned to Bobby with a frown. “What about Peter? We promised him that we’d play some co-op later.”

Bobby turned to his mother, pleading writ large on his face. “Can Peter come over for dinner too? PLEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSSEEEEEE?”

Bobby’s Mom pretended uncertainty as she teased her son. “Well, I don’t know. Peter is a pretty big guy. What if we don’t have enough chili?”

Bobby rolled his eyes with the impatience that only a twelve year old boy can possess. “Mooo - ommmm” he protested, stretching the word until it broke into two syllables. “You know there’s plenty of chili.” He snatched up his own controller as the new map finished loading and the game began anew.

“OK, Bobby. I’ll call Mr. Hackenmeyer - but ONLY if you take out the trash after we eat.” She smiled again at the two boys and returned to the kitchen. Bobby’s muttered “Yeah sure.” went unnoticed by both boys as they plunged into another round of Stigmata 3.

***

To the surprise of nobody Danny’s Dad didn’t even answer his phone. Mrs. Hanson left a curt message to the effect that Danny was going to stay for dinner, and he could stay the night if it was alright with Mr. Smith. After that she called Peter’s mother and the three-boy sleepover was arranged in the time it took for Danny to wreak his karmic revenge on the bullshit camper sniper. It was the work of another two rounds before Peter actually arrived with a sleeping bag and a change of clothes snugged under his arms but neither Bobby nor Danny noticed the lack of parental input.

Dinner went about as you would expect. Bobby’s older sister Alissa was disgusted by the presence of the two additional “overgrown rug-rats” as she referred to her brother and all his friends. But she was going out to the movies after dinner anyway so she wouldn’t be around to mock the three boys. Bobby’s parents were both easygoing and after the meal concluded they admonished the boys to not stay up too late before retiring upstairs with a DVD. It was only a matter of moments before Bobby had the Xbox online again. Both Danny and Peter had brought memory cards with their profiles and before long the Grim Reaperrzzzz clan was online and taking on any foolish enough to challenge the three friends.

***

It was 2 AM when Mrs. Hanson came downstairs and smiled gently and the three boys, all asleep in various chairs, controllers still gripped tightly in sleeping hands. She turned the TV and console off, and tucked blankets gently around all three boys before heading back upstairs again.

***

“HANDS OFF COCKS, ON WITH SOCKS!” Danny shook his head blearily as the outrageous cry repeated. He rubbed sleepy crust from his eyes and tried to focus on the situation. He was slumped in the Hanson’s overstuffed chair, his feet still propped on the matched olive ottoman. But the room around him appeared to be some sort of highly chromed bunker. He saw a couch against the far wall, Bobby and Peter both asleep on it. In the middle of the room stood a tiny man, only shoulder high to Danny and closer to waist high on Peter. He was dressed entirely in forest green leathers, and albino-blond hair protruded from his pointy green cap. He clutched  a strange baton under his right arm.

“Link?” Danny breathed in confusion. “Where are we?”

“WHAT?” bellowed the green-clad man in an unnaturally loud voice. “WHEN I WANT YOUR OPINION NOOBIE, I’LL GIVE IT TO YOU!”

“What? I don’t understand. Where’s Mrs. Hanson?”

“OH NOW YOU WANT BOBBY’S MOMMY DO YOU? FRACKIN’ DISGUSTING IF YOU ASK ME! GET THE FRACK UP NOOBIE! DO YOU WANT THE FALLEN TO TAKE OVER YOUR TOWN? WELL DO YOU?”, bellowed the man in green.

The Fallen were the aliens in all three of the Stigmata games. Danny was still asleep but he knew there was precisely one answer to this question. He jumped up to a ragged semblance of attention. “SIRNOSIR!” Danny screamed, his pre-pubescent voice cracking under the pressure.

“THE MAGGOT SPEAKS! RANK AND SERIAL NUMBER MAGGOT!” The man in green swiveled to face Danny and took several long steps until his face was right against Danny’s, his thin aquiline nose touching Danny’s.

“Uh, er . . . Private Danny Smith sir. Serial number . . . I don’t know sir!” Danny quavered in a high voice.

“WRONG! YOU’RE PRIVATE MAGGOT UNTIL YOU EARN A NAME FROM ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND PRIVATE MAGGOT?”, the man in green underscored his words by tapping Danny on the chin with his odd baton.

“ Stop spitting on me Link. I mean, GOD! I want to fight The Fallen and all, but I don’t want to drown before breakfast!”

“WHAT?”, roared the man, spittle flecking Danny’s face with even more coverage and enthusiasm? “LINK? YOU THINK THIS IS FRACKIN’ NINTENDO? DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY! AND YOU CAN CALL ME BY MY PROPER NAME! I’M YOUR GOD. IF, GOD HELP US ALL, THERE IS AN OFFICER PRESENT THAN YOU MAY CALL ME PUCK. SERGEANT GOODFELLOW IF YOU’RE NASTY!”

All the ruckus had finally woken Peter and Bobby. Peter rubbed his eyes sleepily and casually drawled. “What the fuck is wrong with Link over there? Is it Halloween already?”

In a flash Puck abandoned Danny and was inches from Peter’s face, his baton tucked under Peter’s chin and forcing his head up. “VERY FUNNY PRIVATE ASSWIPE! I SUPPOSE YOU’LL BE LAUGHING WHEN THE FALLEN OVERRUN CAMP OBERON? YOU DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY OR YOU’LL BE ON LATRINE DUTY!”

Peter looked sideways at Bobby and rolled his eyes. “Dude, this is wack. Next week we’re staying over at my place. In fact . . . “, Peter broke off as a sharp CRACK rang through the air and his head rocked to the left. A glowing red handprint rose on his cheek as Puck shouted again, spittle flecking Peter’s face.

“SHUT UP YOU GODSDAMN FALLEN-LOVER! DO YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR FAMILY AGAIN? THE THREE OF YOU HAVE EXACTLY ONE PRAYER OF MAKING IT THROUGH TODAYS EVENT AND THAT’S LISTENING TO GOOD OLD ROBIN GOODFELLOW!”

Peter rubbed at his cheek in shock, staring uncomprehendingly at Puck. At that moment a dapper man strode inside. He wore a pith helmet and sported an entirely improbable handlebar moustache of completely white hair. He completed the picture by rubbing a monocle into his his natty shirt before screwing it into his left eye.

“That’s quite enough Sergeant Goodfellow. Pip pip and cheerio, and all that. P’rhaps I can take a tick and explain the young lads why we need them to fight. Then you can carry on with all your noxious drilling, wot wot?” Bobby almost laughed out loud. Bobby’s dad was a huge Monty Python fan and this new gentleman was the spitting image of Graham Chapman, declaring that the entire sketch was “much too silly”.

Puck grumbled something inaudible under his breath and slouched over to a ridiculously reflective wall. He drew a toothpick from a vest pocket and shoved it in his mouth before leaning against the wall and jamming his hands in his trousers.

“Right then lads. Up and at’em! Now Sergeant Goodfellow here has expressed to me the opinion that he’s dealing with a bunch of cock-ups who can’t tell the difference between their arse and a hole-in-the-ground without a set of flashcards. But I says to ‘em I says ‘ere now! That isn’t true. These are the lads who founded the Grim Reaperrzzzz, don’tchaknow? These lads will willingly fight The Fallen, we just have to give them the right orientation, wot wot?”

Danny, being slightly more awake than the other two nodded vigorously, his hand still drawn up in an unacknowledged salute. “That’s right sir! I hate me The Fallen. Not like Peter over there, he’s a known Fallen-Lover!”

Puck surged off his wall, almost swallowing his toothpick in indignation before the Graham-Chapman-alike put up a conciliatory hand. “I’m handling this good-fellow Sergeant Goodfellow.” He winked at Danny and continued. “Did you see that there? That there was what we call a pun - or your typical ‘play on words’. That’s the sort of thing that will put the men at ease. This is what they taught me as an officer and a gentleman.”

Bobby finally jumped up and joined the conversation, unable to keep his peace any longer. “Begging your pardon, sir, and I hate The Fallen more than anyone but where are we?”

“Ah.” “Ah.” “Indeed.” The officer took a rather extended pause at this point to withdraw his pipe, knock the dottle onto the also-very-chromed-and-reflective ground, create a new plug of tobacco in the pipe, and then proceeded to carefully light the pipe with an uncommonly sulfurous match. Having lit the pipe he completely failed to draw at all upon it. The small fire went out as he clutched it by the bulb and jabbed at Bobby with the stem. “Right. A fine question. A fine, fine question. Indeed, this is a fine, fine example of a question, a veritable paragon of questionhood. I’m personally agog at the fine, fine quality of this . . . “

SMACK!

The officer blinked as Puck darted forward and slapped him on the face. Puck swiftly resumed his lounging posture against the shiny wall, rolling his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

The officer blinked twice more before briskly nodded an acknowledgement at Puck and continuing. “Quite right Sergeant Goodfellow. Quite the ticket, wot wot?” He nodded at Bobby “Well then. You’re in Gruesome Gulch. I imagine you’re familiar with the place what?”

Bobby frowned, his forehead creasing in puzzlement. “You mean the Stigmata 3 map? But that’s not a real place!”

“A real place? Well what is real then? I suppose you think that Los Angeles is real? Have you ever been there? I have and I can tell you on a hot day it shimmers like the craziest mirage you could ever imagine. No compared to LA Gruesome Gulch is quite real.”

Peter snorted disbelievingly. “Right. We’re in a Stigmata map. And I’m the King of Sweden.” Puck lunged forward from his wall, arms outstretched but the office brought him up short with a simple hand gesture.

“Look around Pete. You know full well where you’ll find the C4. And you know you’ll need that if you want to get inside The Fallen base from the sewers. Go ahead and scrounge. We’ll wait.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but he tossed his padded quilt on the floor as he stood up. He yawned hugely, stretching his gangly frame out to his full extent. “Fine. I’ll be right back.” He trotted out a oval gap in the wall.

Bobby leaned forward and began to speak, only to find the officer placing a single finger across his lips. “Shush child. Wait for Peter to bring back his news. It will be naught but a moment.” Even as he spoke Peter loped back in from a corridor on the left.

“Guys.” Peter spoke flatly, carrying a rectangle of gray putty and wearing a bandolier of more blocks over his Mario pajamas. “He’s right. The C4 was right by the sewer access. I don’t know what is going on, but it does look like the red base of Gruesome Gulch.”

The officer nodded in a self-satisfied manner. “Take five men. Robert, Daniel - you’ll both want to get your preferred weapons. The Fallen will arrive in twenty minutes. Pip pip! Stiff upper lip and think of England, wot wot?” He strode confidently out the main door, which slammed shut behind him.

Bobby and Danny both eyed each other warily until Puck erupted in speech again. “YOU HEARD THE LIEUTENANT! GET YOUR WEAPONS YOU MAGGOTS. BEFORE THE FALLEN SLAUGHTERS US ALL!” Startled, Bobby and Danny fled out opposite exits. It was less than a minute before they returned. Bobby now had a Red Cross hat and a cartoonishly large doctor’s bag. Slung over his back was a wicked-looking sniper rifle. Daniel carried a freakishly huge rifle and had saddlebag of ammo on both hips, incongruous against his Darth Maul pajama tops. Even worse he had two bandoleers crossing his stick-like chest, both bristling with an ominous array of grenades.

“Well, OK. We appear to be in Gruesome Gulch. What the fuck do we do now?” Bobby said softly.

Puck eyed the three boys and stepped forward, speaking quietly for the first time since they had woken up. “Now boys? Now you pray for grace. The Fallen arrive in fifteen minutes.”

Blogged with Flock

Tags: fiction, ThingAWeek, WelcomeToGameworld

(Welcome back. In our last installment One-Eye got the Marines back in Assault Pod One while the crew of the Beauteous Revenge prepared to cripple the Cantrellan ship. If you're new to our tale you'll want to start here.)      One-Eye fired the small lasers on the Assault Pod at the portal for almost a minute, yielding nothing more dramatic than a dull red glow. He shut off the beam with a growl of disgust. "That isn't going to work." One-Eye frowned for a few precious seconds as he thought. "Sergeant! What kind of explosives do we have left. Enough to blow a hole in that hatch?"      Sergeant Riker frowned in turn. He stared into space for a moment as he mentally ran an inventory of their supplies and what he had used earlier. "Maybe. If you give it a little tap with the lasers." Anticipating the order he unstrapped and stood up. He clapped Rodriguez on the shoulder as he passed, heading to the small arms locker by the access hatch. "Once more into the breach, eh Rodriguez?"      Rodriguez unstrapped and shot an impish grin at One-Eye. "If it's all the same to the commander I'd prefer to get back in the ship and then make a breach. But I'll go out and help blow things up, that's always a good time."      One-Eye chuckled grimly. "Hurry back and I'll save you both ringside seats. Hopefully the Cantrellans will be too busy to attend to us." He craned his head to peer around the bulk of the pod. "If not . . . I might be able to rotate this bucket of bolts enough to shoot down the access hatch. Teach them to tractor about the First Marines, what? More trouble than any scruffy pack of Cantrellans can handle, that's for damn sure."      Riker and Rodriguez moved out of the pod with alacrity and grabbed explosive packs from the arms locker as they went. One-Eye took advantage of the pause to catch up with the Beauteous Revenge. "Captain? We're trying to bust out but they didn't leave the door open. We're going to knock politely but it's possible we'll need a hand."      Captain Arcolier nodded brusquely, her attention focused on the tactical display before her. "What do you think Pete? Can we get a shot on their hatch without losing the solution for Port Battery?"      Stinky Pete studied the wireframe model of the destroyer and rotated it several different ways. "Negative Captain. We breached the hull opposite the bay in question. We can blow that door out for One-Eye, but we'll have to orbit the target to do so." He squinted at the display and tilted his head to the left. Captain Arcolier repressed a fond grin as she watched his eyes dart to and fro while his lips silently moved. Stinky Pete talked to himself inaudibly when he was calculating something that rode the razor edge between brilliance and recklessness. She gave him the moment he needed to work his concept through.      A new pane blossomed onscreen, the now-familiar wireframe of the destroyer centered. On this one a dotted oval sketched out from the simplified icon that represented the Revenge. Stinky Pete grinned as a timeline at the top of this display began to move forward. "We could preprogram an attack in. If we automate we can whip around the ship and fire a double blast while orbiting. We should be back on position within a minute, before Port Battery would have even recharged. Total downtime in our main firing solution would be only two minutes."      Captain Arcolier grinned savagely and nodded. "Program it in." She returned her attention to One-Eye. "Slave your detonation and laser codes to Stinky Pete's remote. We'll orbit and hit the bay with all our weapons synchronized. Let us know when your crew is safely aboard."      A second orange arc sprang out from the ship as the Revenge's orbit expanded slightly. Stinky Pete looked questioningly at Captain Arcolier. "Captain? We can do even better than that. If One-Eye will accept this flight path he can dock with us at high speed. With the slightly slower orbit Port will be recharged before we cross the firing solution. We can disable them and then slingshot right through the jump point."      One-Eye guffawed as the flight schematic came up on his display. "I love it Cap'n."      Captain Arcolier nodded, her eyes twinkling. She turned to the young helmsman who shifted nervously in his seat. "William lay the course in from Pete's console."      One-Eye scanned the stubborn bay doors, watching Riker finish attaching the detonators. Riker and Rodriguez came back to the ship in the fast and low movements of hardened zero-g combat veterans. They boarded and closed the airlock. "Good work boys. Wait 'til you see what Stinky Pete came up with to get us out of here."      Riker grinned as he feigned faintness, pressing the back of hand melodramatically against his forehead. "Let me strap in first XO. You know I'll face off the entire crew of this mangy destroyer if you ask me, but a plan of Stinky Pete's? I'm liable to wet myself right here!" Throughout his banter he and Rodriguez prepared for departure and he nodded decisively at One-Eye just as the Stinky Pete's mock-anguished cry of "Hey" echoed back from from the Revenge.      "We're ready to go, Captain. Execute at will."      Captain Arcolier nodded at Stinky Pete, "Now put the destroyer comm through." She smirked at Stinky Pete as he complied and the priggish face of the Cantrellan Captain appeared onscreen.      The Cantrellan took a deep breath and launched into an obviously prepared speech, "Jaimie Arcolier. That was a clever little trick with your engine, but we are far from defeated. Surrender now or we will be forced to destroy your ship and execute your marines who were apprehended attempting to illegally board a commercial vessel."      "Oh my, whatever shall we do?" Captain Arcolier drawled derisively. "I sure wish we had another 'clever trick' we could use." She turned theatrically to the left which moved her arm out of the camera pickup. As soon as her hand was offscreen it pointed straight at Stinky Pete in clear command of execution. Stinky Pete jabbed a button on his console and Jaimie grabbed the arms of her chair as the Beauteous Revenge sharply accelerated to the side.      One-Eye let out a sharp whoop aboard the Assault Pod. "Hold on boys, this ride is going to be fast and probably a little bumpy." The pod fired attitude jets and backed up to the rear of the bay, crunching into repair consoles as it went. The Revenge continued to accelerate, engines always firing at an angle to their travel and continually reshaped the orbit. As it reached the far side of the destroyer both main batteries fired. Multiple cinnamon beams stabbed out from both sides of the ship and converged on a single point on the destroyer's hull - the precise center of the hatch trapping Assault Pod One. Aboard Assault Pod One the smaller lasers fired in perfect synchronization fired and the explosive charges detonated. A gigantic explosion erupted as the bay doors melted away in the savage energy interplay. The explosion would have engulfed Assault Pod One except the sudden exposure to vacuum sucked all the fuels out into space. The fireball traveled outward as the vacuum smeared the oxygen out and snuffed the flames. Assault Pod One followed microseconds after, using the pull of the decompression as a launch and firing all engines at the same time. Inside some of the Marines groaned as the ragged edges of the destroyer's hull slide by a scant foot from the observation window. The Beauteous Revenge continued to accelerate as it described a taut arc of orbital physics around the destroyer. The smaller lighter Assault Pod flew an even tighter arc as its relative mobility let it fly a closer orbit. The closer orbit meant the Pod gained ground relative to the Revenge and the Revenge's tractor beam quickly grabbed the Pod and hauled it back into the proper docking bay.      The maneuver came to a close as the Revenge lined up on the jump point. A quick spin with attitude thrusters faced her towards the destroyer and Captain Arcolier delievered her final taunt as Port Battery fired again. "We need to run, so I'll have to say ta-ta Captain. We'd ask you to go with us, but I think you'll find your ship will need some emergency repairs before being jumpworthy. Give my regards to the Empress!" The shot struck true, right on top of the hole where the engine had impacted. The destroyer bent as a key piece of the superstructure gave way.      The Beauteous Revenge spun again and this time began furiously decelerating. With precision only available to computer pilots she came a precise stop at the jump point, just for a moment at rest relative to the theoretical line between two distant stars. An eerie iridescent glow limned the hull and then the ship shrank into an infinitely small and bright point which winked into nonexistence.

---

(That brings our first episode to a close. I'll post more soon about my future web serialization plans!)