“Sounds like a lion with a deviated septum,” Pete said.
Sam chuckled. “He’s so tired, I wonder if he’d notice if we picked him up and dropped him outside. Somewhere far enough away so we can’t hear him growling.”
She spun around, making the bed bounce as she lay down on her back, her elbow digging into Pete and forcing him to lie on his back as well. The bed bounced, settling slowly as they both lay there staring up at the stained roof of the Winnebago, elbows touching, the sound of Torgo’s snoring a strange soundtrack to the moment.
“We gonna talk about your friend?” Sam pressed. “The Reaver.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “We can’t be one hundred percent sure that he actually is a Reaver. Maybe he just came across some dead people and looted them, and then the System wrongly recognized him as a Reaver class?”
[Nero] That is not possible, Pete. The System would only recognize Ollie as a Reaver if he actually terminated a fellow player.
“Thanks, Nero,” Pete said, his voice thick with sarcasm.
“I appreciate the assist.”
“See,” Sam said. “Your friend’s a Reaver.”
[Nero] There may be another explanation, however. While it is most likely that Ollie did indeed kill several human players and thus pick up the Reaver class, it is possible that he killed non-human players.
“Would there be any of those in the game?” Pete asked. “I thought you said that they only appear once you hit the professional league, or much later in the contest?”
[Nero] Ordinarily, yes, but I am learning that this season of the Dominion Ultrimax Contest is quite different from previous seasons, and the System is acting somewhat… erratically. Nothing that we should be concerned about, of course, but from time to time the System tries a few new strategies in the interests of keeping the game as fresh and interesting as possible. It may be that the System has chosen to bring in several non-human players at this early stage of the contest simply to ‘spice things up,’ as you humans say.
“That has to be it,” Pete said. “He didn’t have a choice. Had to fight off some alien bastards, and that’s why he’s showing as a Reaver.”
Sam lay with her eyes closed, not responding for a few moments. When she did speak, it was with a level of care and concern Pete hadn’t noticed before, as though her usual gruff, boisterous fa?ade had dropped for a moment.
“Sometimes people aren’t what we want them to be, Pete. We think we know them, but when shit goes down, they become something different from what we thought they were.”
He nodded, sensing that there was a story behind those words, some personal betrayal she wasn’t quite ready to share.
“I get that,” he said, turning to face her, “but I’ve known Ollie since we were kids. We’ve done everything together. He’s no saint, but he’s not a killer.”
“But this is a game, isn’t it?” Sam pressed. “You could argue that none of this is real. Who’s to say how someone is going to react to a situation like this?” She turned to face him. “Look, you know your friend, and I don’t, so I’m sure you’re right. He might have found himself in trouble and this was the only way out. Or maybe there are other alien players already in the contest, and they jumped him, so he didn’t have a choice. I guess I’m just saying that we need to be prepared for the fact that he might be a legit Reaver. We should be a little cautious when we approach him, just in case.”
“In case what? In case he tries to kill us?”
She shook her head. “I’m just saying to be cautious, that’s all. But like I said, he’s your friend and you know him better than anyone else.”
Sam smiled, then turned over and faced the wall of the RV. “Goodnight,” she said.
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“Night,” Pete replied, frowning as he turned over to face the opposite wall.
[Nero-Private-Pete] I am sorry to disturb you, Pete, but I thought it best to advise you that I have been able to confirm the nature of the beings that your friend Ollie killed.
Pete swallowed, already knowing that this wasn’t going to be good news.
[Pete-Private-Nero] Hit me.
[Nero-Private-Pete] I am afraid that Ollie killed four human players. They are not aliens, as you had hoped.
Pete felt like his stomach had just fallen right through the bed and onto the ground beneath the RV. His chest suddenly felt tight and his mind was reeling from what he’d just heard.
[Pete-Private-Nero] Thanks for letting me know.
[Nero-Private-Pete] Of course.
Pete tried to settle his mind yet again, focused on his breathing and pushed worrying thoughts about Ollie out of his thoughts. No matter how diligently he tried, however, images of Ollie brandishing a bloody machete or some other weapon and standing half in shadow ahead of Pete kept appearing. In several semi-dreamed scenarios, Ollie was standing in front of Sam and holding a bloody knife to her throat. In others, he was threatening Pete’s mother.
It was all utterly absurd, of course. Pete knew Ollie, and there was no way on Earth his friend would have become a Reaver without an excellent reason. He would never harm Pete’s mom, and he would never draw a blade against Pete. This was all some big misunderstanding, that’s all.
The more he thought about it, the more it became apparent that Ollie must have had no choice, and he’d been forced to kill those other players. Maybe that’s what happened when you were hunted by another Reaver? If you killed them, then you automatically became a Reaver?
Pete was sure that’s what had happened, but he didn’t dare ask Nero for clarification for fear of the response he would get. Deep down, there was a lingering fear that he refused to address. Yes, he knew Ollie, and yes, Ollie wasn’t the kind of guy to just murder someone for no reason.
Except…
When it came to gaming, things were different. Ollie tended to like big, bullish paladin-type classes because he loved being the first one into a fight and enjoyed nothing more than surviving an impossible amount of damage while he slowly dragged the enemy down and crushed them. He didn’t like fights to be over quickly but wanted to revel in the kill, taking a beating but delivering the same.
His claim to fame was charging into a level three dungeon in Rainmaker Hellscape—an online multiplayer RPG he and Pete had favored in their college years—with a paladin that was one level higher than the required level for the dungeon. Ollie refused to let Pete help but just charged into the dungeon and ran around, snagging enemies to see how many he could get attacking him at once while he used every shield bubble and damage mitigation ability he could to survive.
Sixty-six enemies in all surrounded him at a final count, all just one level below his character but unable to take him down. When his paladin started actually fighting back and various light-based healing abilities kicked in, along with judgments and debuffs that weakened his enemies, Ollie slowly began to turn things around. It took him ten minutes of solid work to clear the room, but eventually, he’d killed all sixty-six enemies and had survived to tell the tale.
It was one of his proudest accomplishments, and at the time, Pete had just thought it was more evidence of the Australian’s insatiable desire to take a pounding and survive terrible odds. Pete wasn’t sure whether that had something to do with the fact that he came from a country where apparently everything could kill you, or if it was just a product of Ollie’s personality.
As he considered the matter now, though, Pete began to see another trend. Ollie loved the kill, not just because of the challenge of facing an overpowered enemy, but because he loved the feeling of power that it gave him to crush that enemy. It wasn’t quite bloodlust, but there was definitely something there.
When Ollie had first called Pete to tell him about the obelisks, and Pete had mentioned the gauntlet and the competition, Ollie hadn’t hesitated. Grab the damned gauntlet already! That’s what he’d said.
Just because he was the first into a room in a dungeon or wouldn’t have hesitated to dive into this insane, real-world invasion contest, that didn’t mean that Ollie was a murderer. It didn’t mean that he’d start killing other players just because there were added advantages to playing as a Reaver.
Pete lay in a state of near-sleep, his mind churning as he considered the conundrum. He was still in this state when a message appeared on his display, hanging prominently in the air just ahead of his face.
>> INVITE REQUEST: Join a live broadcast of Puke and Pay!
REFUSAL COST: 1500 Belch Bucks.
He blinked, focusing on the notification.
[Pete-Private-Nero] Is that… Am I gonna get penalized if I don’t accept the invite?
[Nero-Private-Pete] Indeed, yes. Unlike most feed shows, you will not need to pay to enter Puke or Pay, but you will be penalized if you do not accept.
[Pete-Private-Nero] So, the System is absolutely not going to let me get any sleep at all tonight.
[Nero-Private-Pete] It would seem not. But these shows are often quite short, so you may still be able to get some sleep. In truth, you were likely not going to be able to sleep anyway, given the activity within your mind.
Pete thought about it. Nero was right, of course.
[Pete-Private-Nero] Can I get rewards if I do this thing?
[Nero-Private-Pete] Of course. But perhaps the greatest reward is recognition. You are already performing well beyond your novice status when it comes to notoriety, and this appearance may even increase your Prestige.
Sighing, Pete clicked the acceptance, and darkness immediately descended around him.