Rich dreamed, and as usual, his dreams were muddled and confusing and troubled. Dragons peered out of mirrors and spoke to him in voices that were simultaneously deep and intimidating and squeaky and hilarious. Pat and Greg flew by in a car that had wings, and wouldn't stop to pick him up no matter how far he chased them. Cutter appeared nearby, and tried to warn him of something, but his voice was hissing static and he faded even as Rich tried to focus on him. Then Rotgoriel handed him an egg, and it hatched, showing a tiny, naked, crying Agnezsharon. Then she wasn't so tiny and they were kissing again, and that was a pleasureable note to wake on, at least.

He lay there in bed for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts. It didn't go so well. And eventually the details faded. He lay there in the grey light of the false mountain dawn that appeared in his digital window, and a check of his internal clock told him that he'd slept in.

It also told him that he had a message waiting.

Recieved Message From: Patrick Bayer

>>We need to talk face to face. Come over when you get a chance.

Face to face was a code phrase. Face to face meant it was life or death, and couldn't be entrusted to either ECHO messages or in-game discussion. Despite the warmth of the blankets around him, Rich felt cold run up his spine, and settle somewhere in the back of his neck.

>>On my way, he messaged Pat.

He rose, showered, dressed, and grabbed a soynut on the way out the door.

One quick Leet cab ride later, he stepped out in front of Pat's tenement block, and his visitor credentials let him make his way in and up the elevator.

Rich's dealings with Legion had left him with a sizeable chunk of money once they'd fled the Ministry. Enough to afford a house, even at Eascan prices. But after a thorough discussion, his friends had decided that it was better to split up and prevent a single strike from taking all of them out at once. To that end, Pat and Greg had taken their share and gotten an apartment together. That, along with some minor programs and grants designed to help “rescued” Minstry youth let them live reasonably well and with minimal supervision.

Technically they had an assigned adult guardian, but she lived next door and was content to pocket the government paycheck and only look in on them time to time. Fortunately she was reasonable. Her name was Shelly, and she had made clear that so long as they stayed out of trouble, did well in school and gave her good reviews on Screech, she didn't care what they did.

In any case, she wasn't around when Rich knocked on the door, and found it sliding open automatically. He cased the place before he entered, finding it disorderly and with clothes and possessions scattered about; nothing out of the ordinary. These two had no mother to get on their case about their slovenliness.

At least they kept it reasonable clean. His nose wrinkled a bit at the scent of stale sweat, but there was nothing too grungy about.

“Pat?”

There was no answer. Rich felt chills down his spine again. Moving as slowly and quietly as he could, he opened the kitchen drawer and pulled out a fork. Not great, but if he went for the eyes—

“Sorry man. I was online. You know how it is when you're traveling, you have to stop and everything.” Pat emerged from the back, wearing a pair of boxers and two days worth of funk.

“Actually I don't know. Rotgoriel's handy that way.” Rich sniffed, made a face. “You need a shower.”

“Yeah. It's been a weekend.” Pat rubbed his face, pulled on the wispy stubble that adorned his chin. “Shit. Gonna have to start shaving.”

“Is that why you went with a goatee for Father Nosebest?”

“Yeah, that's why I gave him that. That and a twelve inch schlong. Y'know, practice for later.”

“Did NOT need to know that.”

Pat brayed laughter, and rummaged through the cabinets. He came up with a box of cereal. “You eaten yet?”

“A donut. Soynut, I mean.”

Pat poured two bowls. And the second Rich sat down at the cramped table, he leaned in close, the funk rolling off him, as he pitched his voice low. “Keep quiet. Cutter was attacked. He almost died.”

Rich dropped his fork, then fumbled for it. The movement gave him time to process, time to think. “You're sure?”

“Shelly got the notice yesterday. I bribed her to keep her ear open. I figure you'll get pulled in for a talk later this week, and your parents might have been told already.”

Rich shook his head. “They would have told me about it, first thing.”

“If you say so.” Pat shrugged.

“How did it happen? He was in prison.”

The transition to Eascan had been harsher on Cutter. As a former agent of the Ministry, he'd been under heavy surveillance. He had gone after a target anyway, and gotten jailed for his efforts. He had taken out the target, but that only made the charges worse.

It was only due to the metaphysical nature of Generica Online that he was able to continue assisting them in the game that wasn't a game. And even then he had to work around his prison schedule.

Come to think of it, he'd been conspicuously absent during the defense of Turpentine...

“He's still in prison,” Pat waved a hand. “They got in after him, evidently. Rumor is he killed his assailants, or they killed themselves, or something of the sort. Shelly didn't have the full picture.”

“Shit,” Rich took a bite of cereal, realized he was eating with the fork, and went back to the drawer for a spoon. Pat waited until he'd returned to continue talking.

“There's more. Just before all this happened, we had a talk. He's concerned that people are sniffing around our business. Trying to get their fingers into our endgame.”

“We dealt with that, didn't we? Found out it was Legion, and bought him off with information. Saved our asses, too. Turpentine would have gone down a lot differently if the Warmers had managed to come in covertly.”

“That's the thing. Legion was a surprise, he told me. But he wasn't the only one. He told me that Midian was snooping around, too.”

Rich took a deep breath. “There's a name I haven't heard in months. Not since she ghosted us.” Then he frowned, as a thought struck him. “Hold on, he told you Legion was a surprise? Legion was walking around with a character named Legion, on display for every player to see. There's no way Cutter didn't notice that.”

Pat chewed his cereal, and his eyes flickered back and forth.

Rich knew that tell, it meant that Pat was considering his words carefully.

“It's possible that Cutter was lying about that,” Pat said, finally. “And it's possible he might be lying about Midian. But he told me she'd come through town recently, asking questions. She left just as quickly as she showed up, so he didn't get the chance to do anything about it.”

“We could have used her help in the battle,” Rich said, stirring his cereal. “Hell, we could still use her help. If we're going to be bargaining with Kai-Tan, her influence with the elves could be a serious card to play.”

“Yeah, but it might be a card played against us. Rich, we can't trust her. We gave her the chance to level with us, and she didn't. You told me yourself that you sensed she was lying.”

“She was. But we shouldn't have pressured her. After all she did for us...”

“She could have stayed and kept helping on the lower levels of things,” Pat said, weariness entering his tone. This was ground they had trodden a hundred times before. “But it wasn't enough. And I can't— we. We can't justify giving high-level access to the guild to somebody who might turn on us. Hell, we kept Cutter out of that level of things. True, he guessed a lot of them on his own, but we always had eyes on him. Still do.”

Rich put down the spoon and rubbed his temples. “Midian. You think she had something to do with Cutter getting jumped?”

“I don't know. I'd say no, but we don't know anything about her. Not for certain. Just that she knows Legion, and doesn't that suggest a few things.”

“You think she's an AI, like Legion?'

“Keep your voice down. It would explain why she knows Legion. Why Cutter couldn't find out anything about her, when he went digging.”

“I've known her for seven years, Pat. From Neverquest on. She's been nothing but awesome. A good friend, a good guildie.”

“Just maybe not a good human.”

Rich rose and paced for a bit. Then he sat down, leaned into Pat's aura of sweat and stench again. “I'll tell you what. If she gets on the guild's radar again, let me know. I'll go talk, see if I can't get answers from her this time. Hard answers.”

“Done. In the meantime I'll try to follow up on this business with Cutter. As much as I can without getting more attention down on us, anyway.”

Rich nodded, and they shared a fistbump.

Greg came out when they were loading the dishes into the washer. He was wearing pants, thankfully, but not much else. And he too, had an odor about him. A different one, though.

Rich took a sniff. “Siobhan stay over again?”

“Oh yeah.” Greg's grin was lazy and satisfied. “Sir Gideon isn't really built for guerilla fighting, so there wasn't much for me to do in the battle of Turpentine. I had some time to kill.”

Rich looked over to Pat. “You tell him about all of the stuff?”

“First thing I did. Once his paramour was gone, anyway.”

“Oooh, look at that fancy title. I'll tell her you called her that.” Greg snagged the cereal as Rich was putting it away, and ate handfuls directly from the box.

“Go for it,” Pat said. “It actually means something nice. Or classy, anyway.”

“Yeah, because we're all about class,” Greg said, his hands sticky with cereal and crumbs.

“Obviously I'm not sophisticated enough for this scene,” Rich said, smoothing his shirt over his gut. “I'll leave you to it. It's about time for me to check back in and see how Rotgoriel's doing anyway.”

“I sent him on a thing but that was hours ago,” Pat said. “He should be done with it by now. Hey. Listen, uh... be careful, okay? If that thing we discussed happened, a whole lot of other stuff can happen, too. Maybe make sure you have some precautions in place.”

The thought was sobering, and Rich nodded. Cutter had been in prison, and he'd been attacked.

The walk home felt like it took twice as long, and even after he'd gotten inside and closed the door, he didn't feel quite safe. If they could get in after Cutter, what good would cheap apartment secuity be?

Well, Rich thought, opening up his hacking toolkit and starting to ping the various ports he needed for local network access. I might have a few extra layers to add to that cheap apartment security...