Chapter 14.2

Reconstitution was as nauseating as logging in for the first time.

James felt his consciousness form an instant before his body—a long, terrifying second during which he was returning not as a man, but a ghost. Then the floor was solidly under his feet and he leaned forward against the wall, the cool smoothness of the stone confirming that he was alive.

The layered paradox of life and death in a virtual world was too much to contemplate upon resurrection. The veins in his temples were pulsing and a strange tenderness lingered where his leg had been slashed. It was more painful now than before.

When the world went from spinning like a top to spinning like a slower top, James staggered a few steps out of the room, managing not to collide face-first with the opposite wall. Casey was leaning nearby, looking as haggard as he felt.

"Heya, Prez." A sickly smile. "Recon is a total b-word."

James closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. "I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"I'm the reason we lost."

"Aw, man. Don't get all crazy." James opened his eyes to the rekindling of Casey's brilliant grin. "We got second outta like two hundred teams, dude! Pretty dang awesome if y'all ask me."

"Next time, I'll take it more seriously."

"You'll still play with me, even though I couldn't stop 'em?"

"You almost beat a freak like Kerrigan while fighting one against two. A weakling like me couldn't find a better teammate in a billion years."

"Aw ... thanks, Prez ... dang, I'm blushin." Casey cleared her throat and frowned. "Y'all ain't weak, though. People got different strengths, right? Yours just ain't fightin."

"That's basically the definition of weak."

"I'm not good with words 'n stuff." Casey shrugged apologetically. "Just sayin, like ... to me, you're strong."

"How's that?"

"Dunno." Casey winced as she shrugged again, feeling around for a wound on her shoulder. "That's why when you were all sad ... I sorta felt somethin real bad musta happened ... 'n I'm bad at talkin 'bout important things, so it's hard, y'know?" She stared into the upper reaches of the chamber for inspiration. "Wait ... yeah. Sky." She toyed with her hair. "Wings! Yeah, yeah!"

"Sky?" James said. "Wings?"

Casey jerked back to the present. "Oh. Like, went into song mode for a sec. When it's music, my brain works different. You're comin to the concert, right?"

"Speaking of, shouldn't you be getting ready? It's in less than four hours."

"Aw, dang. Gotta hurry." Casey levered herself off the wall, pinwheeling for balance until James steadied her. "Man, recon sucks. You gotta head back down to the arena 'n accept the prize 'cause you're the captain, 'kay? And later we gotta celebrate, right?"

"Right." James held her elbow and guided her out the door.

Casey scratched her head, deeply breathing the outside air like she had just woken from a brutal hangover. Then she stretched, yawned, and said, "Well, I'm outie!" She turned left and took a few staggering steps, then turned again and headed in the other direction. "Hahaha, don't even know where I'm goin. Dang."

Before getting far, she turned back. "Oh, uh ... hey, Prez..."

"Yeah."

"Thanks. Even Kana won't do tourneys with me, 'n she's my best friend."

"It wasn't a big deal."

"To me it was." Casey's peaceful smile was different than the usual flashy grin. "If ya ever need somebody, I'll be there."

***

The awards ceremony was brief and to the point. From Thunder and Spite, only Alicia the Reaper showed. From team 28, only James.

James accepted a handshake from the promoters and received an electronic transfer of game funds. When the presentation was over, he wandered into the street. A thin trickle of pedestrian traffic ambled along the walkway.

How many were NPCs? Where were they going? What would they do when they got there?

If a tree fell in the forest and only an NPC was around to hear, would it make a sound?

"Hey."

James turned to find none other than the Reaper, standing hands on hips and chin thrust forward. She looked different when swordless, and with the scars on her arms covered in a long-sleeved blouse. Apparently, Alicia was a one of the few who actually changed clothes outside of combat. And she was still naggingly familiar for some reason.

"Hello?" James said, unsure how else to respond.

Alicia glowered at him and he stared back at her. Eventually she let out an explosive breath. "Apologize!"

"Huh?"

Alicia crossed her arms. "For looking down on us!"

"We weren't."

Red crept up around her ears. "Then why did you let us win?"

"We didn't."

"Bullshit! Just because that girl of yours is stronger than I am, you think I'll let you treat me like some nobody? I'm the Reaper. I can understand the level of my opponent. Even with Kerrigan, we shouldn't have been able to win."

Alicia huffed air in and out furiously. If she was hyperventilating and fainted, James might need to catch her, but preventing her from hitting the ground might be construed as condescension.

"You won because you were willing to do anything to win," James said.

"Of course we'd do anything! What kind of a moron enters a tournament without wanting to win? I don't understand you!"

It was kind of fun to imagine smoke coming out of her ears. "That much is obvious."

"Are you saying I'm the stupid one for not being able to understand such a ... such an abnormal attitude?"

"Breathe in peace, breathe out everything."

"What?!"

"Nothing. We didn't take you lightly. Not everyone has the same goals or beliefs. What's wrong with asking my friends not to kill people?"

"So that's what you did. What a waste." Alicia began to pace back and forth. They were starting to draw a crowd. Could NPCs rubberneck? "How could you let a resource like that rust away with a stupid don't kill rule? It's a battle to the death! Of course you kill!"

"Casey is not a resource."

"See? That's another problem with your attitude. You call yourself the captain, but you won't even use your resources. You can't win that way!"

James could try explaining that no, he did not call himself the captain, but why bother? "Why does it matter to you whether we win?"

Alicia pulled up out of her pacing long enough to look confused. And being confused made her angry. "Because...!"

"Because?"

"Because! It's stupid to be capable of winning and not win!"

"Okay. We're stupid."

"Yes, you're stupid!"

James stared at Alicia and she glowered back at him. He stared. She glowered.

"What exactly do you want me to say?"

"Like I said! Apologize!"

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Good!" Alicia huffed and quivered. The flush of crimson around her ears didn't decrease. She kept glowering.

"Is there something else I can do for you?"

"No!"

"Okay." James turned and began to walk away.

Alicia followed along and caught up. He tried to walk faster, but she kept pace.

This is ridiculous.

James stopped in the middle of the street and rubbed a hand over his face. "Do I need to log off?"

"Wait!" Alicia looked around with strange furtiveness. "Uh, are you ... is your team signing up for the Laurentia defense force?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The Laurentia defense force!"

"I'm a mentalist. You don't need to shout. What exactly is the Laurentia defense force?"

Alicia scrubbed both hands through her short hair. "Grrrrr!" Degenerating into animalistic growls. "Shouldn't be surprised you don't know. You don't even want to win tournaments. Look, it's a sponsored event next week. Laurentia's being invaded by Grendelheim and both sides are drafting fighters. Are you ... is your team going to sign up?"

"This is the first I've heard of it."

"It's going to be big. Huge. Major reward if we win. Strong teams will get better bounties." For the first time Alicia sounded enthusiastic. "Anyway, don't get the wrong idea. I don't care about people who don't even want to win." Well, that hadn't lasted long. "But if you wake up and decide to be a man, Laurentia needs good fighters."

"I'll give it some thought."

"Good," Alicia said. "...Good."

At some point they had started walking again, Alicia striding briskly along and steering James unsubtly to the south.

"I'm headed to the draft board now," she said, "so you may as well come along and just sign up."

James was too tired to even argue.

The short trip passed in a blur, ultimately snapped by a chaotic hubbub. Three hundred people were clustered around a literal posting board, six feet high and ten feet long, signing their names on sheets of paper in a bizarre anachronism. James and Alicia were halfway to the front when a group further down the line called out, waving Alicia over. She glanced at James several times as if debating whether to trust that he would sign up on his own. Eventually she gave a dissatisfied moue, growling that she would be looking for him at the siege and would kill him if he wasn't there. James didn't know how she planned to manage that, if he wasn't there, but kept his mouth shut so she would join her friends.

Hemmed in on every side, soon he was right up against the draft board. Multiple pens dangled on cords. He stood motionless as people around him jostled for position and signed their names. Some were excited, some grimly determined, some blankly unreadable, but none were hesitating. Everyone had a singular purpose.

Except James. He no longer had a purpose.

"Oy, what's the matter? Need some help, do you?"

Someone grabbed his hand and thrust a pen into it, gently but firmly raising it to the board. Before he knew it, he was writing his name.

"There we are, no worries. And long as we're 'ere, might as well put meself down as well."

James watched his hand write another name just below his own.

August Evans.

Control of his hand was returned. James faced his accoster.

"Been a while, then!" August beamed. "Fancy a stiff like you here."

Tightly packed as they were, it was impossible to keep parts of him from touching parts of her. This close up, August was almost nauseatingly attractive: the arch of her brow, the high curve of her cheeks, the sparkling green of her eyes, all deeply invading his safety bubble. She brushed away a chopped fringe of auburn hair short enough to hang above the tops of her shoulders; perfect shoulders, bared by an emerald green spaghetti-strap top that exactly matched her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" James said, inanely.

"Blimey, that's not the way to greet an old friend."

"A moderator signing up for an official event? Shouldn't you be the side of the NPCs?"

"There'll be NPCs on both sides, I reckon. And wouldn't it be fun to be on the same team this time?"

"Hey," said a rough voice, "get outta the way if you're done," and a different voice said, "Get a room."

"Righto, sorry sorry!" August grasped James by the wrist and tugged him toward the edge of the crowd. A few growls and at least one whistle followed behind.

She led him through an open field into some trees in the city's central park. A small brook meandered peacefully through a dell, gathering down to a large pond or tiny lake. Ducks floated by, heads bobbing for insects. The lowering sun made the surface a silvery mirror.

August continued to the water's edge before releasing his hand. She knelt to trail her fingers over the surface, then kicked off her loafers and dipped a foot in.

"Eee! Colder than I figured." Colda than I figgad. August rolled up the hem of her jeans. "Still, lot warmer than a New York November, eh?"

James merely watched. "You were saying about being a moderator," he prompted—though actually, she had avoided the question. "It's still okay for you to participate in the siege?"

"It'll be me day off." August laid back in the grass with her feet just beneath the surface of the pond, arms up over her head and hair splayed invitingly. She wiggled side to side, getting comfortable. "Even if I'm a moddy, I still get to have fun."

James deliberately turned his gaze to the ducks in their placid serenity. "What made you choose the defense side?"

"Hmm." August splashed lightly with her feet. A rainbow of droplets flew. "If you simply must grill me, at least join me for a lay down so I've not got such a positional disadvantage."

The matter of how best to oblige without getting swept up in her momentum was a delicate one. In the end, James laid down in the opposite direction, feet pointing up the slope of the dell.

"Tricky maneuver, that," August said. "Let's see, where was I? Ah, the defense. I suppose ... I have a thing for the underdog?"

"We're the underdog?"

"Wouldn't be much of a siege if the attackers had the weaker force, aye?"

"Fair enough."

"Congrats, by the way."

"For what?"

"Winning the Grand Prix, of course!"

"We didn't."

August turned her head, catching his gaze with smiling eyes the color of the grass in which she lay. "Everyone seems to think otherwise."

Hard to argue, as two separate members of the opposing team had asked why James had let them win, though he had done no such thing.

He shrugged.

"As expected of the man who beat the little witchy me, even with a moddy's mind control powers and all!"

"Everyone thinks we let them win, which we didn't, but I know for a fact you let us win in the forest."

August's look of feigned insult was as convincing as a dollar bill forged with crayons. "Why on earth would I do a barmy thing like that?"

"It's your job. And you seem to be good at your job."

A sly grin spread across her face. "Well thank you, James. From you, I feel that's a great compliment."

James found his eyes roaming the sky, tracking wisps of cloud strung like pulled cotton candy. Distantly came the hum of the draft board crowd, but tuning it out was no major feat. If he concentrated on what was nearby, it was almost as if he was alone in the universe, with only buzzing insects and bobbing ducks for company.

Not quite alone. The occasional and insistent splashing of bare feet and the mildly intoxicating scent of feminine skin was a distracting reminder.

"I didn't really let you win," August said. "That time."

James could feel her eyes, but kept his gaze on the clouds. "I think you did."

"Didn't," August repeated. A change in her voice said she had turned back to the sky. "Planned to, obviously. But when you led me on that merry chase, I thought, you know, maybe I'll win me one just this once. I got a bit like a little cat with a mouse, and let you run here and there. Had too much fun. Being tricked was a bloody shock, I'll tell you. It's not very nice to be the cat and realize all along the mouse was trapping you. Actually, you were never a mouse from the start. That was the mistake, and one I'll not make again."

By the end, James felt that he was finally hearing the real August. She was incredibly practiced with masks—as a moderator, a poker player, even a human being. August herself probably didn't always know which mask was on. But the frustration, the realization that she had been caught, the urge to find victory even when it was her job to lose—those things were too real, too human, to be a performance.

"So, there's your reason," August said. "For the signup, I mean. This time, I choose to be on your side." Her feet sent tiny droplets tinkling into the pond once again. "It's me day off, after all."