Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Clare and Sara, along with a few other inmate passengers, stepped off the trolley. The two women then walked in the direction of their “home,” such as it was.

“Thanks again for coming to the museum with me,” Sara said. “I had fun.”

“I still find it hard to believe the Rough Riders bother to have such a thing. This is a prison, not a real city.”

“Even if you choose to look at it that way, a prison can still have history worth understanding.”

“I suppose there are worse ways to spend a half day off—it’s possible some of what we learned could prove useful. ...I wanted to ask you, why didn’t anyone else come with us?”

“May wasn’t interested, and Justine called it a ‘newbie trap.’ When I told Pari it was a museum for the game’s history, she refused. She must have known there would be a lot of exhibits mentioning her relative. I can see why she wouldn’t want to face that.”

“When you told me Cassandra Tehrani was called ‘the Dread Queen’ by the inmates, I found the title melodramatic. But when we got to the exhibit of her old show... Her combat skill is terrifying. Why did she stop playing game?”

“She hasn’t stopped completely. Every January the hunters have a PvP tournament, and the winner gets to be the honorary sovereign of the Great Kingdom. She’s never lost.”

“But she also hasn’t come into our territory for over five years.”

“That’s when she borrowed a hundred million from her father to found a start-up—Superior Medical Solutions.”

“That’s the company that made our brain jars,” Clare recalled, uncomfortable at the thought.

Sara nodded. “Basically, her people built a better mouse trap, and ran the inventor of the brain jars out of business. She’s been too busy with that to bother killing us. Since her father died and she inherited a controlling share in NRC, she’s probably one of the wealthiest people on the planet.”

“Do you think it’s possible that she’ll come after her father’s killer?”

“I don’t think Pari actually killed him—my guess is that Cassandra framed her for some reason.”

“Just because someone executes criminals doesn’t mean they’d be willing to kill anyone. ...But I will admit, Parisa Tehrani doesn’t seem the type to commit murder.”

“Clare, we’ve been here over a month now. But you don’t refer to anyone by just their first name—even though we’ve been risking our lives together.”

“I’ve already told you that I’m not interested in making friends in this place. I consider you, Roberts, and Tehrani to be valued allies—but that’s as far as it goes.”

“You really want to spend the rest of your life without any friends?” Sara asked, dismayed.

“It’s not as if I had any on the outside either,” Clare answered stiffly. The conversation was growing uncomfortable, and she decided to change the topic. “But back to what I was saying earlier. The ‘Dread Queen’ may be retired, but she still nominally controls the largest hunter guild in the game. Given her connection to our party, do you think she’ll cause problems for us?”

“I can’t rule it out—but I would have expected her to do something by now if she were going to. All I can say is that our current situation is complicated enough.”

Clare nodded. She briefly thought back to the Death Legion funeral a few days earlier. None of the deceased adventurers had been religious, and none of their families had been able to afford a trip to Felorius. But Bishop Bell had held a service for the benefit of the Magical Girls and some of the Rough Riders.

At that event, General Martinez had informed them of the news his messenger had brought back from a sympathetic hunter. “We’re still stuck with the Killers looming over us,” Clare agreed. “We’re a prominent party and we insulted them, so they might not let it go. It’s unfortunate that the general couldn’t tell us anything useful.”

“I don’t know that what we learned was entirely useless. The knight may not have a social media presence, but we know that that there was no mention of him until recently. And he doesn’t have any PvE achievements to speak of. That supports our ‘experienced player with a new character’ theory. And we have a better understanding of the traitor’s crime.

“We also know that the Killers have a lot of buzz among the fans, which means they’ll get their own show soon. Though only if the knight signs off on it. John has a goblin television, so we’d be able to see exactly what they’ve been up to—albeit with some delay.”

“And they may be keeping tabs on us too.”

“It’s entirely possible.”

“Did you hear back on your reply to the knight?” Sara shook her head.

The pair soon arrived at the entrance to their building. A short flight of concrete steps led up to the door. “I’ll bet I can jump up those steps without a running start,” Sara said.

Clare scoffed. “I know you’re still excited about your rare speed gem, but it’s only first tier—it’s impossible that it would improve your jumping that much.”

“Why don’t we bet on it?”

“That sounds juvenile. Besides, we’ve been sharing our gold freely.”

“There must be something besides that you can think of to ask for.”

“I want you to stop stripping.” It was the first request that popped into her head, and after she said it Clare feared that she might sound jealous. “It reflects poorly on the party for one of us to be involved in something so tawdry,” she added hastily.

“Sorry, I can’t agree to that. We’ll need all the gold we can get.”

“I can’t think of anything else I want. I’ll just settle for the amusement I’ll gain from seeing you fall on your face.”

“Fair enough. But if I win...I get to kiss you once on the cheek!”

“Absolutely not. Why would you even think of such a thing?”

“I just can’t resist seeing you blush. ...Come on,” Sara needled her teasingly. “If you’re so sure I have no chance of succeeding, then where’s the risk?”

It was true that she would never make it. “Fine, it’s a bet. But you have to jump from a complete stand-still, and clear every step.”

Sara nodded and stood at the base of the steps. She swung her arms back and forth a few times and bent her legs slightly before leaping. Clare was briefly worried she would make it, but Sara tripped on the top step and fell onto her hands and knees. There was a thud as her face struck the metal door before her.

With Sara in this position, Clare got an inadvertent glance up her dress. She could see the black leather of Sara’s light bikini armor. The tank quickly looked away.

“Ow, damn it!” Sara stood and turned around, rubbing her nose. It had a red mark where she had struck it. Clare noted from the other woman’s nameplate that she had lost a tiny amount of health. After a very short time, Sara’s health returned to full on its own, and the injury was gone. “That’s better. I suppose that was kind of dumb though—I probably would have broken my nose in real life.

“I hope you got the amusement you wanted at least,” she told Clare with a smile.

“...I did,” she answered, trying to keep her embarrassment out of her tone.

The door to the building opened, and Sara stepped out of the way. Roberts emerged out onto the steps. “I was coming out to wait for you, but I thought I heard a knock at the door,” she said to Sara.

The healer laughed slightly. “I tried to jump up the stairs. I didn’t quite make it and hit my face.”

Roberts also laughed. “And I thought you were the sensible one around here.” She led the other woman inside, and Clare followed. They went up a flight of stairs. “Hey, did you ever read that book I gave you?”

“I finished it yesterday. I’m not usually into horror, but it was pretty good. That ending...”

Clare soon stopped before her door to open it. “Oh, Clare,” Sara said. “I forget to tell you, we’re meeting Pari and Justine later at a bar. We’re going pretty early, since Pari doesn’t like crowds. You should come with us.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already wasted enough gold for one day.”

“Don’t worry about that—it’s a dive bar that’s mostly for townies, so everything is cheap. Besides, it’s not as if recreation has to be entirely frivolous. Think of it as a team bonding exercise.”

Sara offered another of those warm smiles that always diminished Clare’s will to resist her. “Far be it from me to not support unit cohesion,” she joked reluctantly.

The healer looked extremely pleased. “I’m glad. We’ll come get you in an hour or so.”

Roberts was less happy, but she followed Sara into their room. Clare entered her own small room with its two bunk beds. She shut the door. The light was already on, so she settled down onto one of the beds and materialized a book on raiding tactics.

She was distracted as she read. It was very likely that Sara and Roberts were having sex in the next room—sound did not carry when the doors were closed, so she could not know for sure. Anything that happened while an adult flag was on might end up on a sex show. The idea of a bunch of disgusting Fantasy fans ogling Sara and worse angered Clare to no end. It was some time before she could settle into her reading and put her unproductive emotions out of her mind.

Finally, there was a knock at the door. Clare put away her book and rejoined the other women out in the hall. Roberts was looking pleased with herself, which made Clare think that her musings had been correct.

The trip to the bar was uneventful, with Clare’s companions talking at length about the novel they had mentioned earlier. They finally arrived at their destination, and Clare observed the sign over the door.

She had no idea why half the businesses in this ridiculous city had some kind of awful pun in their name—maybe it was just the inmates refusing to take their predicament too seriously.

Inside the establishment was the promised bar with numerous stools. There were also tables with chairs, most of which were empty of patrons. A goblin radio blared in the background with news of recent raids and PvP skirmishes.

Tehrani and Williams were waiting at one of the tables. “Pari, Justine,” Sara said happily as she approached. The pair stood. There were some waves and hugs before everyone was seated.

“Hey guys—congrats on hitting two percent,” Williams said. “Clare, I haven’t seen you since we made your outfit.” The tank nodded in acknowledgment. “I’ve been watching the Magical Girl show—you look cool as hell fighting.”

“Thanks,” she replied, though she did not really care about such things.

“Actually, you all do,” the purple-haired woman added. “I’m kinda jealous—I tried combat training once, but I could barely figure out which end of the sword to hold.”

“I wish I had your talent for design,” Sara admitted. “I couldn’t even guess how many parties have gotten shows thanks in part to your help.”

“Aww, you’re gonna make me blush,” Williams teased.

Roberts left the table briefly after asking if anyone wanted drinks. Sara and Tehrani got colas, and the demon player had a beer. Clare decided to try mead. She made a surprised face after her first sip.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Williams asked with a laugh.

“Yes.” Still, she did not dislike it. They all slowly consumed their drinks as the conversation continued.

“So Pari, are you excited about your parents’ visit?” Sara asked.

“Yeah, but I’m a little nervous too—I’ve already gotten a few texts about how they don’t want me adventuring. They should arrive late tomorrow night.”

“They’re the overbearing type?” Williams asked. Tehrani nodded. “I know what that’s like. But they can’t influence you in here unless you let them.”

“You’re right,” she said seriously. Tehrani then looked to the party’s healer. “Sara, anything new with you?”

“The museum was pretty interesting,” she said. Clare nodded in agreement. “And I got that text from my family yesterday, but I already talked your ear off about that.”

“I didn’t hear about it,” Williams said.

“Well—”

“Wait.” Roberts then called out to the bartender. “Hey, could you please turn that up?”

He did so, and Clare immediately realized why the other woman had made this request. The inmate newscaster spoke solemnly over the radio. “As listeners may be aware, rumors have run rampant throughout the city about the so-called ‘Killers.’ The murderous pairing of hunter and inmate appeared a few hours ago on the latest episode of ‘Magical Girls,’ a company program following a newer adventuring party. Guild Council spokesman General John Martinez had this to say.”

The radio’s voice switched to the general’s. “We currently have a number of scouts searching for the killers of Death Legion and the other victims.

“Although we believe he spends much of his time hiding within the city, we expect to slay Dennis Cantor within the next few days. Until then, the Council is still issuing an advisory to all low to mid experience adventurers. Questing activities outside the safe zone should be suspended, and parties running dungeons should travel to and from their destinations in raids of more than ten. The Killers have been known to attack both solitary questers and raids of up to ten members.”

The original newscaster spoke again. “Be on the look out for Dennis Cantor. He is a black male, approximately...”

“Thanks,” Roberts called out the bartender. He returned the volume to its original level.

“‘Raids of up to ten members,’” Sara noted. “There must be new information.” She looked to Williams. “Could I come over to your place and watch the new episode?”

“I’d like to see it too,” Roberts said. Clare decided that she was not needed for this—she trusted Sara to notice anything relevant.

“Sure thing.” Williams took a sip of her drink. “You know, I can’t believe those sick fucks are murdering people while using that insulting party name. If only hunters could be killed for real.”

“The hunter isn’t doing anything il—” Clare was interrupted when Sara stepped on her foot. The tank had been about to say “illegal,” but she belatedly remembered her promise to avoid saying anything in favor of capital punishment to outsiders. “...Isn’t doing anything unusual, I mean. We should save our anger for the traitor—he’s the madman who’s turned on the very people he needs to survive.”

Williams looked to Clare suspiciously for a moment. “I’ve got anger enough to go around, believe me. But I guess the traitor is worse—there are some real lunatics in this city, and no one should be giving them any ideas.”

Clare nodded. Sara then addressed the group. “Let’s not talk about this any more. We are supposed to be unwinding.”

“Good point,” Williams said. “Why don’t I get everyone something to eat?”

“You don’t have to do that,” the healer said.

“I really don’t mind. All the gold I don’t give to my guild is gonna get wasted one way or another.”

Soon the group all had their meals and another round. Clare found the food a little bland—but then, the more flavorful options required more expensive recipes and ingredients. The conversation turned to mostly trivial matters and gossip.

“Oh, I was wondering,” Sara said at one point. “Does anyone have a birthday coming up? Maybe we could do something for that.”

As it turned out, no one did have a birthday within the next few months. But Clare was surprised when she heard Roberts’ answer. “March 2nd.”

“That’s the day Clare and I got here,” Sara realized. Roberts nodded. “You should have said something.”

“Realistically, what was I gonna say? ‘Sorry you got chopped up for organs today—now where’s my present?’” Everyone but Clare laughed at this.

“How about you, Clare?” Sara asked.

“December 2nd.”

Williams whistled. “Right after Invasion Day. You’re getting the biggest party of the year whether you want it or not.”

Clare decided to address something that had been bothering her. “I have a question...has anyone else received any fan mail?”

The other magical girls looked surprised. “No, nothing like that,” Sara said. “I can’t believe anyone would waste that kind of money to contact a stranger.”

“You’ll probably all get some texts as your show gains a larger following,” Williams explained. She then looked to Clare. “What were yours about?” Clare blushed, causing the other woman to laugh. “Something creepy? I’m not surprised. There’s an option to block messages from anyone you don’t want to hear from again.”

“I already blocked them.” Though Clare still wondered what would possess anyone to waste two-hundred fifty dollars to send such obscene sentiments.

Sara apparently read her expression. “I’ve read that inmate popularity with the fandom depends mostly on success at raiding or lethal PvP. But there’s also interest in those considered up-and-coming stars. Our PvE tests probably created a lot of buzz about you specifically—so maybe you’re already kind of famous.”

“I think the simpler explanation is that some guys just like to harass women,” Roberts pointed out. “And Clare’s got the body type a lot of them go for.” Clare was pleasantly surprised that the demon player did not make that point in a cruder fashion. Maybe Sara was having a positive effect on her.

“You’re probably right,” Sara admitted.

At this point everyone took notice of an approaching young woman. She had an outrageously flashy outfit that Clare hated—Williams looked appalled at it. The color scheme clashed slightly, and all of it was just too busy. Beyond this she was quite attractive, with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. Though the eyes seemed a little vacant somehow. She also had three of the demon features—horns, wings, and a tail. The wings were spread out, but only a meter in wingspan. A nameplate appeared:

“Magical Girls! I’ve been looking all over for you!” She had a high-pitched and sickly-sweet voice. “I’m Unique, and I’m your number one fan—so add me to your party.”

Everyone exchanged confused looks before Sara spoke. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t really work that way. We currently hold try-outs for our open slot either by appointment, or any time we’re at Rough Rider training northeast of the city. Did you just arrive in the game?”

“This afternoon! I’m so excited!”

Clare could tell just by looking at them that everyone else at the table was thinking something similar.

Sara managed a polite laugh. “Then I doubt you’re even acclimated to Chronomil yet. Your enthusiasm isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but Fantasy Justice is extremely dangerous. You’ll need to spend many hours training, and even then there’s no guarantee you’ll have any talent for combat.”

“I’m sure I’ll be great. Let me try-out now, and I’ll pick up fighting as I go!”

Clare felt that Sara was practically a saint for managing to keep any impatience or contempt out of her voice as she continued. “I’m afraid we’re taking a much needed break today. And I have to clear, you have no chance of joining our group if you can’t comprehend the severity of your situation. The people who made this game put you here to profit from your death.”

Unique made a pouting face. Roberts finally spoke up. “What’s up with that ‘two’ by your name—is it a duplicate?”

“Some loser already stole my name! But I was insistent I get it anyway—I had a social media following, and I don’t want to chance losing my adoring fans by altering my brand.”

Clare and Roberts both sighed simultaneously.

Roberts barely managed to keep her tone even. “Look, we appreciate any inmate who wants to contribute in some way. But I don’t think you’d be a good fit for our party even if you can fight.”

“But we’ll be able to combine our fans and get even more views! Plus I’m gay, and I made this amazing costume!” She spun around once to show it off. “You should like me—especially since you’re my favorite magical girl, Mabel!”

“Mabel?” Clare asked in confusion.

“She never told you that’s her real name?” Unique asked, surprised.

They all looked to Roberts, who was embarrassed and furious in equal measure. She stood and angrily pointed toward the exit. “Get the hell out of here, you preening little fuckwit!”

Unique burst into tears and ran toward the doorway indicated. “Um, sorry about that!” Sara called after her. A moment later she was gone, and all attention returned to Roberts. The demon player slowly took her seat.

“Your name’s Mabel?” Tehrani asked quietly.

“...That’s what my parents called me. I always went by ‘May,’ so I had it legally changed as part of my plea.”

Now that she understood the situation, Clare found herself enjoying this revelation greatly. “You shouldn’t feel badly. I think Mabel is lovely name for a two hundred year-old white woman.”

Sara covered her mouth and looked away. Tehrani giggled. Williams, who had been sipping her drink, barely managed to avoid a spit take.

Roberts face-palmed. “I knew this day was coming.”

“It is a pretty name though,” Tehrani said comfortingly. “I mean, at least it isn’t one of those stodgy old-timey names, like Mildred.”

“Or Ethel,” Williams chimed in.

“Bertha,” Clare added. There were more signs of amusement at this.

Roberts looked to Sara. “Come on. If you wanna mess with me too, get it outta your system.”

“Actually, I’d like to be serious for a moment. You’ve had entirely too much to drink.” Sara solemnly held out one delicate hand toward the other woman. “Please give me the keys to your horseless carriage, Mabel.”

Even Roberts laughed at this. Despite herself, Clare laughed slightly as well. Eventually everyone settled down. “You’re one to talk,” Roberts said to Sara. “I’m pretty sure your name was in the bible.”

“The older part even,” Tehrani joked.

“At least my name has remained consistently popular,” Sara said playfully.

Roberts sighed. “Anyway, now that everyone’s had their fun... I actually really loathe the name ‘Mabel.’ I’d appreciate it if you guys didn’t use it.”

“Of course,” Sara said. “I hope we weren’t out of line.” Everyone else nodded in agreement.

“Thanks.” Roberts then shook her head. “Anyway, can you guys believe that chick?” She indicated toward the door Unique had fled through.

“There was something really off about her,” Sara admitted.

“That outfit made me want to claw my eyes out,” Williams added in disgust.

Tehrani nodded. “And I couldn’t stand her voice.”

“She sounded like Takahashi with rabies,” Clare agreed. She was then surprised to provoke another round of laughter. She did not remember a time in her life that anyone had been so consistently approving when she spoke.

“...I don’t really sound like her, do I?” Sara asked.

“Little bit,” Williams teased.

“Your voice is much nicer,” Clare reassured her. At everyone’s surprised stares, she continued quickly. “Anyone’s is, really.” Internally, she berated herself—she had let her guard down, and now it had led to her speaking like a smitten schoolgirl.

As the evening and the conversation continued, Clare felt troubled and had little else to say. Eventually she decided that she would rather be alone with her thoughts. “I’m feeling worn out,” she interjected, rising from her seat. “It’s better if I head back now.”

Sara looked disappointed. “Thanks for coming out. We were really glad to have you.”

“Definitely,” Williams said.

“Have a good night,” Tehrani added.

“See you tomorrow.” Roberts spoke surprisingly warmly. “Let’s hope ‘Unique’ doesn’t show up to screech at us.”

This provoked a slight laugh from everyone else. “That would be unfortunate,” Clare agreed awkwardly. She looked to Williams. “Thank you for the food earlier.”

“No problem.”

Clare then made her retreat out of the bar and on toward the nearby trolley stop. The sun had set, and occasional foot and horse traffic passed her by as she walked. She was so distracted that she nearly walked right into Unique, who stood some distance from the tracks.

“Where’s the rest of the party?” the obnoxious inmate asked. “I’ve decided to forgive all of you for your rudeness if you let me try-out now.”

Clare looked to her incredulously. “Stop wasting my time with your infantile behavior.” Her poor mood did not lend itself to restraint.

Unique was fully enraged. As Clare attempted to walk past her, the other woman’s expression suddenly turned to a wolfish grin. “...Sara’s an anarchist,” she whispered.

Clare came to a halt and turned to face her. She suddenly felt her stomach tie up into a knot. “That—that’s a lie! How dare you?!”

The other inmate did not move to meet her gaze, instead looking straight ahead. “Mabel knows about it. I’ve seen it on your show. They both laugh and laugh about how easy it is to trick you while they lie in bed together. Sara even said that she could make you fall in love with her.” Now Unique finally turned her head slightly to glance at Clare. “...Did she succeed?”

Clare shook with rage. She materialized her sword and shield. “Take that back,” she said with a false calm. “Take back those horrible lies—or I will end your worthless life. Now, or the very instant you step outside the safe zone.”

A trolley pulled up to the stop. Unique skipped over to it and boarded, spinning half way around one of the vertical poles to face Clare. “How sad...even when faced with the truth, you’re still completely under the spell of a terrorist whore. But maybe if you’re really lucky, she’ll decide to use you at some point for some quality bitch fucking.” The trolley started pulling away, and Unique waved by wiggling her fingers. “Ta!”

Clare dropped her sword and shield. They disappeared into her inventory. Her trip home was a blur, but somehow she made it to her room and shut the door behind her.

Tears suddenly began streaming from her eyes.

She summoned her sword once more and screamed. “IT ISN’T TRUE!” She smashed one of the bunk beds to kindling in a rage before tossing her weapon aside. Still crying, she crawled into the other bed and curled into fetal position. The debris from the destroyed furniture vanished, and a new bed materialized in its place.