Sean messaged everyone and they met back up in the mess hall. He reiterated the journal entry information to everyone else this time and gauged their reaction. Miles and Emmy were busy making eyes at each other, Laura already knew, Alison took it more calmly than he expected, but Tim reacted by saying, “I knew it. Something didn’t add up about what we’d found in the factory.”

The Misfits looked at Tim, who continued, “Prior to realizing that this was all planned by the two Megacorps, I couldn’t understand why the AI would evolve the way that it did. There isn’t anything that would suggest that it should develop that way.”

“And what is the profit motive for Terrazon and JPWalmart?” Alison asked before Sean could ask the same question.

Tim smiled wickedly, “To eliminate the competition of course. Not only that but it sounds like Terrazon backstabbed JPWalmart too. That would explain why Mr. Tiel was transformed. It wasn’t an accident but more likely a ploy by the other side to get him to step into that giant Gear. The only catch is that he couldn’t leave without it destroying his real body.”

“There are a lot of gaps in that hypothesis,” Laura replied. “We never found Mr. Tiel’s real body.”

He nodded, “True, it is still a conjecture but it seems far more likely than AI evolving for the sole purpose of destroying mankind. There is nothing in it for them.”

“What about Aeon,” Sean interrupted. “Can we still trust her?”

Tim shook his head, “Probably not but right now we are dependent. It’s not like we have any choice but to continue to have her function and help us log into AO. However, just in case things go pear shaped we should probably have Emmy show us how to shoot so we have a back-up. We don’t want to be entirely dependent on a system that could turn against us at any time. We now have plenty of ammo in the bunker here and the factory below also has a large armory.”

“Convenient,” replied Miles, looking up for the first time. “This journal still doesn’t answer a lot of questions we probably need to know.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to argue with that. Still, let’s use what we can,” Emmy said. “Speaking of which I understand that I can’t be infected any longer.”

Miles smiled and said, “That’s good news.” She nodded.

“One more thing,” Sean said. “There are some notes in the old man’s journal about several magical items that were created by Precious One. The dude had an obsession with otherworldly stuff and loved talking about these things. It was the reason that he had The Restorer in the first place. He’d planned to track down these remaining items and the journal has some good leads if we want to check out a few of them.”

After that the Misfits agreed to look for a few of the magical items; however, at least a couple people were to stay at or near the bunker at all times to ensure their groups’ safety. Emmy volunteered to give Miles some firearms lessons and stay behind while the rest of them went to look for the first item.

An hour later, Smash, Deathberry, Seona, and Linca were in Kirkwall, an old city that was the capital of Orkney, a series of islands north of Scotland.

“Why are we here again?” Seona asked, shivering in the frigid air. They were somewhere in a large park.

“There is a magical sword here for Smash and besides I’ve always wanted to go to a place that had a Skyrim town named after it,” Deathberry replied with a smile.

Linca chuckled and raised her hand, “Also here because of Skyrim.”

“How did I get stuck with a bunch of gamer geeks again?” Seona asked.

Sean pointed down the street, “Let’s go this way,” he said. “And the reason is that once upon a time we all seemed to care about having a job. Part of yours was babysitting gamers and making sure our brains didn’t explode from all the awesomeness your company was putting into their game.”

“I guess I can’t deny that type of logic, but still. Skyrim? Wasn’t that around when we were like 5?” she asked.

Deathberry shook his head. “No, you’re thinking of one of the sequels. The originals were before our time but were still the classics,” he said. “Now that we’re done with the history lesson, let’s find out where this sword is. I think we may want to split up and meet here again in an hour.”

The group agreed and Sean made his way toward the coast. As he walked down the historic streets he appreciated the way that it looked like it had always belonged in a fantasy game world. Interestingly, there was little if any change that he could detect that had come from the apocalypse. The town looked untouched and the residents seemed normal, if just a bit less friendly than he had anticipated.

Now in the downtown area along the docks he saw a likely looking bar – Torvhaug. It looked like an old pub indeed and Smash’s only disappointment was that the place wasn’t packed with dwarves. Instead, the place was rather quiet. There was one older gentleman at the end of the bar drinking a glass of something that looked like Scotch and on the other side of the bar was a woman who looked like she could be his grandmother except surlier.

As he approached the bar, her steely grey eyes assessed him coldly. “What can I get for you stranger?” her tone was standoffish, it was clear he wasn’t welcome here.

He smiled, trying to be friendly but her face turned to a scowl. “Just a drink and some information. He slid two gold across the bar.”

Grunting, she said, “We’ve got ale or Scotch. What will it be?” He placed an order for an ale andshe took his gold and returned a moment later.

“And for information?” he prodded.

She finished cleaning a bar glass and gave him a dead stare. “Asking too many questions around here is a dangerous habit stranger. Best you move along soon after you’re done with your drink.”

Smash was used to dealing with ornery NPCs in games but this was a bit more than the usual. Something was definitely weird here too. They hadn’t been treated like this in any of the other towns or cities they’d ventured to. He had a hunch that something was going down in Kirkwall but he certainly wasn’t going to find out talking to this bartender. He was about to slide over and ask the old man at the end of the bar some questions but he paid his tab and walked out before Smash could say anything. Smash finished his drink quickly and made his way out the door.

He tried two other places and had similar luck. It wasn’t just the Torvhaug bartender who wasn’t talking. At the last place he’d nearly gotten punched in the face for asking by a brutish looking man with a full beard and alcohol on his breath.

An hour later he met the Misfits back at the park. It seemed like everyone else had struck out too. They weren’t going to be able to find anything out about the sword or even what was wrong here with everyone playing like nothing was happening. Finally, he said, “I think we’re stuck. None of the townsfolk here will talk.”

“They’re too scared to talk but I think they want help,” Seona offered. “At least that’s how it seemed when I talked with one old woman over at the bed and breakfast over there. She looked like she wanted to say something but her husband just shushed her.”

Deathberry looked at the group thoughtfully, “Did anyone else notice that the Cathedral is locked up? It didn’t seem that unusual to me since it was probably a tourist destination before and there aren’t any tourists here anymore. But what struck me as odd was that people are avoiding the place. When I was walking back from the west end of town I heard a woman muttering some protective chant to herself as she walked by and she didn’t linger for long in sight of the old building.”

“The only problem is that we can’t get in,” Linca responded.

Smash smiled, “Probably not right now but I think we might try sneaking in tonight.” They all agreed that it was their only chance of finding out more about what was scaring the townsfolk.

They waited until sundown and made their way to the great Cathedral. The red clocktower stood out blood red in the evening sun. The steel gates were locked and beyond them, the previously well-tended lawn was overgrown with weeds.

Although they didn’t have the ideal composition for breaking and entering, Smash just used his rage and ripped the chains off the gate. The sound of steel being pulled apart made surprisingly little noise although he was sure that there were people on the other side of the street watching from behind their closed shutters within their homes. Where was Cheezus when you needed him, he thought to himself?

They made their way without incident to the front of the Cathedral. Ominously, the towering wooden doors were unlocked. Deathberry shrugged at Smash and they decided to enter. Inside the first thing Smash noticed was the length of the great building and the great columns of red stone reaching up towards the arched ceiling far above them. Confessionals lined the side wall in front of them and as he stepped fully into the Cathedral he could see down the long line of pews towards the alter.

He heard a scream and looked down. There in the corner, next to one of the confessionals was a zombie munching down on human remains. It was probably one of the townsfolk who’d been captured. The scream had come from Linca who was ahead of him and pointing at the creature. However, her scream had alerted the rest of them and all of a sudden Smash could see dozens of hungry eyes looking in their direction.

“I think we found the problem in Kirkwall,” Smash said dryly.