CHAPTER 44

  Detour

  Bash slowed to a jog as he entered the city gates, putting on his best serious soldier face and mimicking Patrick’s posture. Chest out, back straight. “Here from Old Village with urgent message,” he barked, tossing a coin at the nearest guard.

  The guard caught the coin with mechanical precision, slipped it into his pouch, and rattled off the scripted line. “Welcome to Londonland. Be on your best behavior.”

  “Oh yeah, model citizen reporting for duty.” Bash gave a mock salute and put in his best effort to win the title for Most Obnoxious Hero. No one laughed, not even a twitch.

  “NPCs never appreciated fine comedy,” he complained.

  > “Perhaps try a knock-knock joke next time?”

  Bash ignored Shai and started walking, trying to remember where the entrance to the underground resistance had been. The city looked the same, but his memory of the layout was a bit fuzzy.

  He circled the perimeter, heading toward the slums, toward the side gate they'd escaped from. He followed the wall until he found it, and the nearby warehouse with the ladder that led down to the tunnels.

  The building was empty, no surprise. But where the hatch should have been, he found only freshly paved stone. Well, shit. He knelt down and drove his fist into the patch. It cracked. He hit it again. And again. After about a foot of rubble, he stopped, breathing hard. This wasn't a quick job. Someone had filled the entire shaft with rocks and dirt.

  He sat back on his heels and wiped dust from his face.

  > “Problem?”

  “Maybe...” Bash stood, heading back out to the street. He started wondering the streets, looking. Every Upload he passed, he studied, trying to remember if he'd seen them before. The woman selling bread. The man hauling a cart. The kid running errands. None of them looked familiar. None of them so much as looked back at him.

  Bash was passing an alley when he heard a woman’s voice. “Psst. Lord Bash! Why are you walking in the open?!”

  He turned and peered into the shadows. A woman stood there, pressed against the wall, eyes darting past him to the street. Checking the metadata, a name he recognized popped up. Right. The woman he'd saved from the goblins. “Hey, Catherine.” He stepped into the alley. “Glad to see you're still kicking. And what’s with this Lord thing?”

  Without warning, she wrapped him in a hug, arms tight around his waist. "Okaaay." Bash awkwardly patted her back. “Good to see you too, I guess.”

  She pulled back and looked at his face, eyes wet. “I never got to properly thank you.”

  “Oh, there is no need for that.” Bash said, trying to extract himself from the woman’s arms.

  “No. Really.” She gripped harder. “You saved my life.”

  “Yeah, well… you’re welcome.” Bash finally peeled her off and took a step back. “Listen. I need to find Jill. Can you take me to her? We’ll call it even.”

  Catherine's expression crumbled. She shook her head slowly. “Jill's in prison. They arrested her and several others. Kicked us all out of the underground.” Her voice dropped. “We're living on the streets now.”

  Bash's head dropped. For fuck's sake, he didn't have time for this. His friends were in the mountains, probably facing down a freshly spawned army of the dead, but he couldn't just leave Jill rotting in a cell, could he?

  Shai spoke aloud for once, something Bash didn’t even know she could do. “I recommend you use this as an opportunity to rebuild your connections in the city and find help to clear the goblins.”

  Catherine jumped, yanking a knife from her belt, eyes wild. “What the hell?! Who's there?!”

  Bash gestured for calm. “Shh. Relax. It's just my AI, who can apparently talk?! You know players have them, right?”

  Catherine lowered the knife slowly, still breathing hard. “Jesus. Sorry. I'm just...” She shook her head. “What's this about goblins?”

  Shai spoke again, sounding very happy to answer. “Lord… Bash has been very busy and accidentally respawned the troll and all the goblins he slayed.”

  Bash saw the terror flash across Catherine's face. “Shai!” he hissed. “You aren't helping!”

  Catherine’s breathing quickened. Her hands started shaking. Bash grabbed her arms. “Listen. Catherine. It's okay. Trust me, I'll take care of it. Just like last time. Calm down.”

  She gulped air, trying to steady herself. “I... I... okay. Okay.” She wiped her eyes. “I need to take you to Connell. He's the only resistance leader still free. He can help.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Bash followed her through the slums, then past them, into a part of the city that made the slums look like a resort.

  > “Bash, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect her to react so poorly to my presence.”

  Keeping his voice low, he whispered. “It wasn’t that. It was the goblins. She’s got bad memories.”

  > “I don’t understand.”

  Catherine shot him a questioning look. Bash turned his head coughing, covering his mouth like he was scratching it. “We’ll talk about it later, not everyone is as crazy as me.”

  Bash looked back up, as they passed a collapsed walkway. Next to it a roof was held together with literal strings of rope. “Jesus,” Bash muttered. “How many shitty neighborhoods does this city have?”

  “The Count didn't care about anything outside the temple district,” Catherine said quietly. “As long as the taxes were paid, he let everything rot.”

  Glad I killed him, Bash thought. Damn. I am getting dark.

  Catherine stopped at a door that looked like it might fall off its hinges. She knocked. Three short. Two long.

  The door cracked open. A suspicious eye appeared. “Catherine. What is it?” a familiar voice asked.

  “Lord Bash is here.” She paused. “He's going to help get Jill and the others out.”

  Bash sighed internally. Goddammit. Guess I have no choice now. The door opened wider. Connell was the same wiry older man Bash remembered from before. Nervous energy. Fingers always moving. But something in his eyes had hardened since their last meeting.

  “Hey, uh, good to see you again.” Bash extended a hand. “I know we only met briefly. I have to admit I don't even really remember it well.”

  Connell took the hand but didn't shake it warmly. His grip was perfunctory. “The savior returns,” he said, words dripping with sarcasm. Stepping aside he gestured them to enter.

  Bash got a bad vibe as he walked into the deteriorating building. “Yeah, yeah. About that. I'm here to help with a jailbreak, apparently. So what's the plan?”

  Connell dropped into the chair near a battered table. “No plan. Not until you showed up.” He folded his hands in front of him. “You're the plan now.”

  “Okay, well... what the hell happened?” Bash asked.

  Connell's eyes went cold. “After we put our necks on the line to get you and your friends out, the city guard cracked down.” He leaned forward. “They arrested everyone. All those people you freed. They got new contracts or they got punished. Severely.” His fingers tapped the knife on his desk. “Let's just say you aren't a very popular guy around here at the moment.”

  Bash's mouth went dry. “Listen. I'm only trying to help.”

  “Yeah.” Connell sat back. “Well, the last time you helped, our entire resistance got obliterated. So forgive me if I'm not throwing a parade.”

  The silence stretched. Bash had no good reply. He'd been so focused on escape, on survival, on getting to the mountains, that he never reflected on what would happen. About the people who stayed behind to cover his exit. “I'm sorry,” Bash said finally. The words felt inadequate.

  Connell watched him, not forgiving, only calculating. “If you really want to make it right, then you’re going to get everyone out.” He pulled out a rough map and spread it on the table. “Here's how it's going to work.”

  ***

  Bash, Connell, and four of the resistance's remaining fighters stood in the attic of a building overlooking the garrison’s courtyard. Through small gaps in the wall, Bash counted guards. Ten in the courtyard and by their best guess, another ten inside with the prisoners.

  “So, this is really the plan,” Bash said slowly. “You and the boys here pose as mercenaries, hog-tie me, turn me into the prison. And then... what? I break out and save everyone?”

  Connell nodded. “That's the idea.” Bash stared at him. This smelled worse than the sewers. Way worse.

  > “Bash, I don't like this. It doesn't make any sense. How exactly are they going to help you once you're inside?”

  Good question. Bash eyed Connell, watching for any tell. The man's face was a mask, but the four fighters behind him kept shuffling their feet. Looking at the floor. Avoiding eye contact.

  They're definitely going to betray me, Bash thought. But for now, he would play the fool. “Okay, you guys!” Bash clapped his hands together, grinning like an idiot. “Ready to go? Seriously, I can't wait to see these guys' faces when they realize this is a classic... switcheroo? Trojan horse? Whatever it's called.”

  Connell's smile didn't reach his eyes. “Yeah. Can't wait.” He pulled a length of cord from his belt. “Now turn around so I can tie you up.” Bash nodded enthusiastically and turned. Connell looped it around his wrists, winding it twice, three times, cinching it tight. Too tight.

  Inside, something cold and calculating whispered. If this guy double-crosses me, I'm going to pop his head like a grape. But then he thought about Richard. About the way he'd murdered the Count without letting him speak. He'd promised himself he'd do better next time. Give the next guy a chance to explain.

  > “Bash. You should stop. Think about this.”

  He couldn’t answer Shai directly. Not without blowing the act. So instead, he looked back at the four resistance members. “This is going to be so much fun!”

  They marched him down the street toward the garrison's front gate. Connell shoved him from behind. Bash let himself stumble, even though the man was so weak he could barely feel the push.

  He looked back and smiled. “Great acting, Connell! Keep it up!” Connell smiled back. The expression made Bash's skin crawl. Motherfucker, you're so lucky I've grown as a person.

  They reached the gate. Two guards stood at attention, spears crossed. And then the other shoe dropped. “Hey, Connell.” The guard on the left relaxed, lowering his spear. “Whatcha got for us today?”

  Connell's smile turned triumphant. “No more small fish. I've got the big one this time. The player Maximus, may he reign supreme, has been looking for.”

  Bash forced his face into an expression of shock. Eyes wide. Jaw dropping. “What? You're double-crossing me? How could you?”

  > “Oh. OH. You're letting yourself get caught on purpose. Why didn't you tell me?”

  The guards stared at Bash. Their expressions flickered from interest to annoyance. Shit. I overplayed it. He let his head drop, shoulders sagging. “Oh no,” he mumbled. “Betrayed. How can I ever...”

  “Goddamn players and their stupid roleplaying.” The guard on the right shook his head in disgust. “Just take him to the cells. Let the new city lord deal with this one.”

  They marched him through the gate, across the courtyard, and into a stone building that squatted against the garrison's inner wall. The temperature dropped as they descended a narrow stairwell. The air grew thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and human waste.

  The basement opened into a nightmare. Cells lined both walls, iron bars slick with moisture and rust. Bodies pressed against them, crammed so tight there was barely room to breathe. Men. Women. Children.

  Bash stopped walking. Faces he recognized stared back at him. The people he'd freed. The contracts he'd broken. All of them, back in cages. Some bore fresh bruises. Others had that hollowed-out look.

  A little girl pressed her face against the bars, watching him with empty eyes. They punished them… because of me.

  The guard behind him shoved. “Move.” Bash didn't move. He was stone now. Rooted to the floor.

  Playtime was over.

  !