Quest: Ignition

Primary Objective — Prevent an outbreak of violence at the Open Forum.

Personal Objective — Remain unidentified by other Users (excluding Kinsley, Merchant).

Threat Level: (S)

EXP GAIN (S)

Time Limit: Thirty Minutes.

Reward: Continued access to contingent quests.

Realizing that if anyone saw me clearly reading something invisible it would be an easy giveaway, I immediately let my eyes glaze over, glossing over the text and keeping Swat Guy in my periphery.

Yes, I’d lose access to the Cradle of Civilization quest if I failed here, but that barely mattered compared to the collateral. Iris and Ellison were here. I dug out my phone and immediately sent a text.

I started following Swat Guy, staring at my phone, letting the view from my peripheral guide me.

He did a slow pan of his surroundings, lip curled in irritation, and I moved to stay out of his view. It would be bad if he saw me.

He’s pissed. Hasn’t slept in days. Probably wrapped the wound himself, so he didn’t have to explain how he got it. Not looking for you, most likely looking for any obvious User, but you’ll be a likely target if he does.

I bumped into an elderly woman wearing an oversized hat, and bent down to pick it up for her, facing away from Swat Guy.

“Sorry.” I handed her the hat back. There was a creeping feeling along my back, like I could almost feel him, watching me. Then the moment passed.

My phone buzzed.

I turned back around and found Swat Guy was gone.

/////

Watching the quest timer tick down was agonizing. Despite looking everywhere for both Iris and Swat Guy, I’d come up completely short. Both Ellison and Iris were great at blending in, but my sister was borderline invisible when she wanted to be, and that’s exactly what I’d asked her to do.

Twisted Lens had confirmed my suspicions that Swat Guy—though given the way he was dressed, a more apt description was probably Unabomber guy—was likely here to target Users.

So, I surveyed the existing groups for anyone who looked like a prominent target.

There were a few groups like the Local Recovery Effort, borderline corporate entities geared towards getting both Users and civilians under contract.

The second-largest group as far as I could tell was Roderick’s Lodge, and judging from their full-on larp-worthy display of system gear and attitude to match, they were a User exclusive guild. They’d rather abrasively—and directly asked if I was a User, and all but turned their nose up when I gave the obvious answer.

There was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a group mixed with Users and law enforcement, actively recruiting for the DPD. Likely not a target for Swat Guy.

Daphne, her father, and her father’s group were nowhere to be found.

My mood plummeted. The best ally for the budding merchant’s guild would be a medium-sized group with decent leadership. So far, none fit the bill. They were either too corporate, too full of assholes, or both.

And then, the whole part where there was an off the reservation cop playing Taxi Driver. I was parked on a middle-bench towards the outskirts, attempting to give my extended peripheral as much coverage as I could get.

But I couldn’t help but notice the small table set up fifteen feet away. Two men in matching crew-cuts, red shirts, and khakis had a various number of what I guessed to be System crystals on display in what could only be described as a shrine. They were incredibly enthusiastic, and, unless I missed my guess, were setting out to kickstart some sort of pseudo-religious movement.

A middle-aged man stopped at the table to inspect a crystal, and practically ran away when they jumped up to talk to him. I watched in grim amusement as one of the red-shirts followed him.

“Don’t chase him, you idiot.” I muttered under my breath. Then I glanced at the timer for what had to be the hundredth time. Fifteen minutes.

“Imagine if they manage it.” There was a low whistle, matching an equally low-voice beside me. “Our first, homegrown, post-system cult.”

A million alarm bells went off in my head. I hadn’t gotten in anyone’s way, hadn’t been overly obvious in my inquiries. I hadn’t spotted him at all. And the voice was friendly, casual, in the easy-going way that was almost always underhanded.

So, what was this, exactly?

I turned my head slightly, so I could see him. The man was olive-skinned, his black hair cropped short. He was as massive as he was tall, at least a foot taller than me, if not more so. Advanced system armor, a more complex version of the kevlar and composite that formed my now ruined armor, with a giant sword strapped to his back.

The approach had been deceptively subtle. Exactly something I would have done. Which made me more than a little wary. Especially when I saw someone I assumed to be some sort of guard, leaning against a tree further down a path.

I decided to stay focused on his opener. “These guys? Nah.”

“Really?” The man rumbled. “What are they doing wrong?”

Another open question. He was pumping me for info, but why?

“Apart from the mormon-slash-target aesthetic? They’ve got an interesting conversation piece with the shrine. But they’re trying way too hard. Furthermore, as far as I can tell, they have nothing to offer while you’ve got groups like the Local Relief Effort less than thirty feet away, cooking brisket when everyone here is hungry.”

“Merchant access is definitely a factor.” The man said. More obvious bait.

“Is this the part where I pretend like I don’t know what a merchant is?” I turned to him, finally. Despite the massive sword on his back, he had the gentle giant facade down to a T. “Because that wouldn’t make sense, especially with your friend over there tailing me this whole time.” It was an educated shot in the dark, based only on the fact that there was no way I would have missed the bigger man following me around.

Gentle-giant shot a glare over at the woman leaning against the tree, confirming my suspicions.

Instead of responding, she scowled and looked away.

But I wasn’t looking at her. Instead, I kept my focus on the giant.

Confident. Good with people. Came from money, lost it. A natural leader but not completely sure of himself. Doesn’t know what I am, but something put him onto me.

He grinned at me sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m Tyler. Sara and I are new to this. We thought about getting a table up, like the rest of them, but decided to wait it out.”

“Great,” I said, keeping my voice short, direct. “You have a group. What does any of that have to do with me?”

“I have a… thing. Something that guides me to points and people of interest.” The description was more than a little cryptic.

“Like good hunches?” I cocked my head. There was no question he was talking about either a title or a system ability. But should have blocked anything that specifically pointed out Users.

“Something like that,” Tyler glanced away. “You know about the whole User, NPC thing already?”

“A friend brought me up to speed, yes,” I said in a monotone voice, faking irritation. “There’s a party, and I’m not invited. What of it?”

“Countless people in that boat. We’ve been scouting for members all morning. Average folk and Users. But my, uh… thing, doesn’t always tell me why someone’s significant.” Tyler gave me a meaningful look.

Ah. I wasn’t happy I’d been followed, but the alarm bells started to fade. Tyler was a User, and had no other information to go on besides the part where I’d been running around like a chicken with my head cut off and scouting other groups.

“How do you feel about that? Not being invited to the party?” Tyler asked. He pulled out a bag of potato chips.

I felt myself smile, and glanced at the time. “Is this an interview?”

Twelve minutes.

“We’re just talking.” Tyler said casually, and I didn’t need Twisted Lens to immediately flag the sentiment as a lie.

I kept an eye out for Swat Guy. “It sucks. Being left behind. But it’s nothing new, and being bitter about it isn’t going to help. Just judging from people I know, more than half of us fall into a non-User camp, right? So there’s going to be a new equilibrium, the only question is how it all shakes out.”

“That’s pragmatic for someone your age. Why didn’t you sign with LRE?” Tyler asked me.

“Because it felt like a trap. The duration of their contract is until the dome comes down. They’re banking on people’s tendency to hope for the best.”

“Not you, though?” Tyler asked.

“Not me.” This was taking too long. “I’m not really looking to sign on with anyone at the moment. There are too many unknowns.”

“You’re not wrong about them.” Tyler glanced over at the stand. “They seem sketchy, and I don’t like the way they’re restricting merchant access. That’s only going to piss people off eventually.”

“Not you, though?” I reversed his question, and he chuckled.

“No sir. We’ll still give discounts to members, that’s only fair. Want to keep things as open as possible.”

“Gotta keep people happy while they’re toiling in the mines.” I prodded him, testing for a reaction.

His face grew dark. “Yeah, I heard something about LRE doing that shit. There’s a need for grunt work, sure, but plenty of other openings for civilian help.”

“Like?”

“Consulting, management… analysis,” He smirked at me, when he said the final word.

“I’m not really looking to sign on with anyone now,” I said. Though finding out more about Tyler’s group had jumped high up on my priority list.

The big man shrugged and handed me a card. It had no number, but an address printed on the front that I recognized as somewhere downtown. “Right. I imagine your friend has you sorted. Sorry about the scare. Just being careful.”

I inclined my head. “I get it.” Still, I sat there for a full-minute, watching Tyler and Sara leave before I set out to search for Swat Guy, growing increasingly nervous as the clock ticked down.

It didn’t take long.