The rain was getting heavier with each step Mike took and the young man shivered, trying to walk as close as he could to the walls of the buildings, where he was at least partially sheltered from the downpour. It was one of those unbelievingly cold December nights, and Mike was improperly dressed - an old navy coat and his customary baseball hat were his only protection, and he was already soaking wet.

I should have taken a cab, he reflected. And why not? In the recent past he wouldn’t have even considered paying for a taxi, but with his newfound fortune, such small pleasures were more than affordable.

Mike reached into his coat to make sure the fat envelope was still there, safe and dry inside an inner pocket. He didn’t let go of the envelope since he got it the night before, but he knew that he would have to either stash the money someplace safe or - god forbid - open a bank account. Both options didn’t sit well with him, but he couldn’t keep walking around with this old coat all his life.

A loud horn blast caused him to miss a step and he nearly fell from the narrow sidewalk onto the paved road. A car went by, its headlights illuminating the deluge and its tires splashing water on whatever dry parts remained on Mike’s clothes.

If it were any other day he would have shouted and cursed, but that day Mike’s mood was too good to get upset with such trivial matters. His life was finally starting to take an upturn, and it wasn’t due to any lucky break - he just happened to make the right decision for once. The knowledge that it was his own smart move turned his success sweeter than he could have imagined. It was he, after all, who had made the right connections. He who found Mistress R and learned about her tempting offer. He who accepted the job. He who convinced Ben to do the job for him.

His only regret was the lies he had to tell his best friend so he would agree to follow the plan. But such regrets were a single drop of rain - soon to be splashed on the sidewalk and forgotten. In fact, considering the reward Ben had gotten for his trouble, it wasn’t even a drop of rain - it was the mist in the clouds, evaporating into nothingness before even thinking about turning into water.

I’m a poet. Who would’ve known. Mike grinned as he ran across another road, crossing into his neighborhood. Here the buildings were lower and shabbier and the roads hadn’t been fixed in a while, which made for large puddles along the way to his small apartment. Mike skipped what puddles he could but by the time he arrived at the three-story building where he and Ben lived, he felt as if he just took a long dip into the sea.

Nonetheless, he went up to the second floor with a bounce in his steps. If he knew his friend, Ben would probably already be logged in to the game with his newly gained console, adventuring in a beginner quest somewhere out there in the virtual world. Probably a ready-made quest, he mused, knowing that Ben had the same problem with funds that Mike had only a day before.

Not wanting to disturb his adventurous friend, Mike tried to keep quiet as he unlocked the door to their apartment and slowly pushed it open. It was dark inside, but that wasn’t surprising - Ben was probably logged in for a couple of hours now, and there was no one else to turn on the light. Mike closed the door behind him and peeked into Ben’s shadowy room - and as expected, his friend was lying on his bed, motionless, the VD console attached to his recently shaved head. Ben’s body shuddered every few moments and his hand even jerked up once, as if he wanted to throw something. It was like watching someone dream, but Mike knew that what Ben was experiencing was much more vivid than what any dream could be.

Mike smiled to himself and left his friend to his game. Not even the mist in the clouds, he decided.

He extracted himself from his wet sneakers and turned on the light.

“Hello, Mike.”

Mike’s breath caught in his throat. Two men were calmly waiting for him in the living room. One was lounging in his favorite old recliner, and the other was leaning against the wall, holding a black pistol. Both of them wore hoods that covered their faces and were dressed in the typical tracksuits that Mike was too familiar with.

The money! He thought in panic. They came for the money. He made to grab the door’s handle, but the man who was standing by the wall raised his gun and tsked. “You know that’s not a good idea.”

The man’s voice was familiar. Mike squinted his eyes, trying to distinguish what was under the hood. Then his eyes widened. “Gary? Is that you?”

The man answered by lowering his hood, and Mike’s suspicion came true: he knew the man. Gary, or “Boxer” as he was called in the streets for obvious reasons, was a low-level soldier for one of the biggest underworld families in the city, and Mike had dealings with him only a couple of days before. In fact, it was Gary who made it possible for Mike to get an audition with Mistress R.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Mike stuttered. It couldn’t be about the money, could it? These goons worked for the mistress; why would they want to rob Mike, who had accomplished everything he was asked?

Boxer frowned. He was a big man, his chest and arms pumped from continuously working out in the gym. Several rings adorned his fingers; Mike once witnessed firsthand as Gary nearly killed a dude with a well-placed punch that drove one of his rings deep into the poor guy’s cheekbone. He was also known to never smile, and now wasn’t any different.

“Have a seat, Mike,” said Gary, gesturing toward a chair.

Mike hesitated. His thoughts went to the small gun he kept hidden in his bedroom, but to get there he would have to cross the length of the small apartment, and there was no chance whatsoever he’d manage that before these two would get their hands on him. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he nodded and walked over to the chair.

The other thug, who up until now was casually rocking back and forth in the recliner, stopped his pastime and stood up as Mike drew closer. He still had his hood up and Mike didn’t recognize him, but what caught Mike’s eye was the thing the man held: an electric razor.

For some unknown reason, the sight of the small machine scared Mike much more than that of the gun pointed at him. Some basic intuition screamed at him that something was horribly wrong, that he should get the hell out of there before it was too late.

Mike started to lower himself to the chair, but instead of sitting he used his crouching position to lunge forward like a sprinter on a running course. The thug with the electric razor made to grab him but missed. Boxer was also reaching out with his massive fist, but Mike was moving too fast for them, driven by unexplainable fear. He ducked below the man’s hand and would have managed to reach his room and maybe even the hidden gun - if it weren’t for his wet socks.

Two seconds after his brave lunge Mike slipped on the floor, his sodden socks betraying their master. He flailed with his hands in an attempt to keep his balance but fell heavily on his back, the air escaping his lungs with a painful grunt.

Powerful hands grabbed him and he was lifted back to his feet. Mike struggled, but it was a brief struggle, which ended immediately after Boxer punched him hard in his belly. The powerful blow left Mike without air and in incredible pain. He tried to gasp, but it took a couple of seconds before he could breathe again. Mike wasn’t a doctor, but It felt like the punch did some real damage to his internal organs.

“I said, have a seat,” said Boxer again. This time the man didn’t wait for Mike to follow his command but pushed him hard into the chair. “Now,” continued the Mistress’ soldier, “hold still.”

Mike’s eyes widened when he heard the buzzing of the electrical razor, but this time he knew better than to fight. He watched as the silent thug took off Mike’s cap, grabbed his chin so he could maintain a steady grip on his face - and started shaving his head.

Mike’s heart pumped violently as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His brown curls fell around him to the floor in quick successions; the thug seemed proficient in his task, and it took only a few strokes of the machine to make Mike completely bald.

Then Gary took out something from a bag that Mike didn’t notice before. When Mike noticed what it was he started to breathe faster. “You gonna - you gonna hook me up to the game?”

Gary nodded. “How did you guess?”

The thing that Boxer was holding was a VR console, although Mike had never seen anything that resembled it. The VD set Mike had given to Ben was larger, a black box with tentacles that had sticky electrode pads attached to them. This set, however, was much smaller. It was shaped like a hexagon and was red instead of black. And instead of the usual three tentacles with three pads, it had only one of each.

Mike licked his dry lips. “Why? Where are you sending me?”

Boxer grunted. “You’ll see. Hold still and close your eyes.”

Mike had no choice. With growing apprehension, he did as he was commanded. He felt something wet and sticky cover his newly shaved skull - the electrode pads.

His mind exploded in pain.

For a few seconds, Mike knew nothing else but that unimaginable torture. It felt like the worst headache one can have - only multiplied by a thousand. He screamed. He wanted to raise his hands and grab his exploding head, but someone was holding him in place and he couldn’t do anything.

Then, the pain was abruptly and blessedly gone. Mike opened his eyes, panting hard and looking wide-eyed around him. There was nothing! Only blackness. No, that wasn’t true. There was a light, but Mike couldn’t identify its source. He looked down on himself, and saw that he didn’t change - he was still Mike, still dressed in wet clothes and dripping socks. His head (that didn’t explode after all) wasn’t shaved, but the taste of blood in his mouth felt very real. He stood on what looked like a black marble floor.

“Welcome to my quest, Mike.”

Mike turned on his heels. A man stepped into the light. He seemed to be in his fifties, dressed in a rich business suit and wearing glasses. Other than that the only other distinguishing feature about him was his bald head.

Too much was happening too fast. Mike tried to think, to make sense of it all. He was in a virtual world, that much he figured. But who was this man? What did he want from him? And why the hell did the transition hurt so much?

The businessman seemed to sense that Mike was struggling to find words. “Don’t bother your little brain with too many questions,” he said. “Soon everything will be clear.”

Mike felt like he was going mad. “Who are you?”

The man smiled. “You may have heard of me. My name is Sullivan.”

Mike racked his brains, but the name didn’t mean anything to him.

Sullivan’s smile wavered in disappointment. “No? Oh well. Then perhaps you know my associate?” He gestured, and a woman came out of the shadows.

This time Mike gasped. “Mistress R!”

The woman smiled at him. “Mikey. Seeing you twice in one week is a pleasure beyond my wildest dreams.” She was tall, blonde, and beautiful as much as she was cruel. She was also the fearsome leader of the city’s most infamous criminal organizations. “I never did tell you how pleased I am by your… exceptional performance.”

Mike gulped. “I did everything you asked me to. I - we - I mean, Ben and I - “

“I know, I know,” said the blonde woman. “Exceptional, as I said. Sullivan and I were very impressed.”

Sullivan nodded. “Indeed. And because you performed so remarkably, we have another job for you.”

Mike looked from Sullivan to Mistress R and back. He thought about the money in his coat and about the plans he had for the near future. And he knew, right then and there, that if he committed himself to these people, he would forever be their slave.

Gathering his courage, Mike shook his head. “No. I’ve done enough.”

Sullivan sighed as if expecting the answer. “I want you to see something, Mike. Come closer.”

Mike had enough. “I don’t want - “

But something pushed him, and suddenly he was face to face with Sullivan. And as Mike looked, Sullivan’s face began to change. His eyes grew larger, his nose lengthened, sharp fangs came out of his mouth. His skin took on a sick green hue. And when he raised his hand, Mike saw that it wasn’t a hand at all but the claw of a beast. Sullivan slashed with the claw, and Mike gasped in real pain. He felt blood streaming down his face from the deep scratch above his eye.

“This is VD,” growled Sullivan. “A place where anything goes. And since it is my quest, I can control what happens to anyone who stumbles into it… willingly or unwillingly. Do you follow me, Mike?”

The young man could only nod. This was a nightmare.

Sullivan, who was now a werewolf, or a vampire, or both - growled again. Or did he chuckle? Mike couldn’t be sure. “Good boy. Now listen carefully. Your friend Ben has logged in into a VD quest a couple of hours ago, using the mind-console you gave him. The game he entered is called Power Quest, and is controlled by DM Raxlon. Have you heard the name?”

Mike nodded again. Everybody heard of Raxlon.

Sullivan growled yet again, but this time he was definitely angry. “Well Mike, sometime in the near future, your friend is going to have to trust someone in the game. I want this someone to be you.”

Mike was confused. “What do you mean? You want me to… play? To build a character and join Raxlon’s quest?”

The werewolf-vampire-thing nodded. “Yesss. But you will do what I tell you to do. If you don’t, very bad things would happen, Mike. Both to you, to Ben, and maybe even to little Cindy and her mother. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Cindy was his niece and was probably the only person in the whole world who thought that Mike was a good man. Mike was trapped. He felt hot tears in his eyes, and when he blinked they fell down his cheek, mixing with his blood. “What do I have to do?”

Sullivan's maw opened wide in what was probably a grin. “Everything in due time, Mike. You will be informed. For now, there is only one instruction: do not tell your friend anything about what happened here today. Or else.” He snapped his jaw back and looked at the blond woman who was standing quietly by his side. “Rebecca, disconnect him.”

The next thing Mike knew was the same explosion of pain as before, and he sank into nothingness.

***

In an office room not so far away from Mike and Ben’s shabby neighborhood, Sullivan disconnected himself from the VR set and took a deep breath. He never liked the transition between worlds, but he knew it was necessary. In a chair next to him, Rebecca was also returning to the “real” world. Unlike Sullivan, she was very fond of the games, and he knew what her next words would be even before she opened her mouth.

“A shapeshifter! That was amazing, Sullivan!” She exclaimed.

Sullivan raised his eyebrows. “It was your idea.”

She leaped out of her chair and did a little impromptu dance - something her minions would never imagine she was capable of. “Yes, but I never imagined you’d go for it! You!”

She laughed, and Sullivan couldn’t help but smile at seeing her high spirits. “Well, I admit it was… fun,” he conceded. “At least more so than I imagined.”

Rebecca’s dance brought her close to him and she hugged him from behind, her hair brushing his cheeks. Her smell was intoxicating. “I knew you had it in you,” she whispered.

Sullivan let the moment linger for a while. He even put his hands on her arms, returning the hug. Rebecca, as if sensing that was the best she could get, detached herself from him and stood tall, although the smile still danced on her heart-shaped face.

Sullivan adjusted his glasses and looked at the row of computer screens in front of him. “Do we have a feed? I want to see him.”

Rebecca typed something on her phone, and after a moment pointed at one of the screens. “Here. Gary just turned it on.”

Sullivan looked at the screen. It showed the small apartment were Ben and Mike lived. Sullivan zoomed in, focusing on the figure that lay unmoving on the floor. Mike was still unconscious, but what caused Sullivan to inhale sharply was the angry red scratch the young man had above his right eye - a scratch that wasn’t there before they forced his log-in.

Rebecca saw it too, and breathed in excitement. “Your new console. It works!”

Sullivan nodded, transfixed by the sight of the wound. “Mind over body…” he said in wonder. The possibilities were endless.

Rebecca put a hand on his shoulder. “We have to go tell the board. The others would be thrilled, they would - “

“No.” Sullivan put his hand on hers and raised his head to look into her eyes. “We tell no one. Not until we go through with our plan.”

Rebecca opened her mouth, maybe to object, but the look in Sullivan’s eyes made her change her mind. Instead, she nodded slowly. “You mean our protege.”

“Yes. We need to see if he is up to the task.”

“His test scores say he is. Although I must admit, I saw others with better results.”

“None had his aptitude for making the… right choices. He would go all the way, if needs be.”

Rebecca hesitated. Sullivan, seeing the look that crossed her face, narrowed his eyes. “What is it? Ask away, my love. This is no time for second-guessing ourselves.”

Rebecca frowned. “Well, he didn’t choose the assassin. That’s… not what I expected. He could have been invincible.”

Sullivan surprised her with a short laugh. “I find his choice uplifting. And promising. This one is wise, Rebecca, not just ambitious. It makes him the perfect tool for our experiment.”

Rebecca thought about his words for a few moments and finally smiled. She gestured for Sullivan to wait, and went to the liquor cabinet. When she returned she was holding two glasses of expensive wine. Giving Sullivan one, she raised her own glass. “To the SH Initiative then. May our heroes change the world.”

Sullivan raised his glass as well. Behind him on the screen Mike was moaning on the floor, just beginning to regain consciousness. Gary was looming over him, gun in hand. “To the SH Initiative,” agreed Sullivan. “And to our brand new hero. May he find his first dungeon to be everything he dreamed of… and more.”