Falcon arrived in River City early in the morning, by ship. He had two followers with him - his best men. Wardok was a high level mage. Beecher was a warrior, skilled with every weapon, tough, and could carry as much gear as a horse.

Falcon’s armor glittered in the sun. It was the strongest armor known in the realm. It seemed to dare anyone to take a shot at him.

“What up Falcon,” an outlander called to him. As he strode with purpose down the cobblestone thoroughfare, he was greeted several times.

He turned down Pub Street. A tall, gangly man rushed over to him. It was Darryn, his steward in River City.

“Mister Falcon, it is good to see you, sir. Your manor is prepared. Is there anything I can do for you?’

“Actually, yeah. Here’s a list of people I’m looking for. Gather your eyes and ears and find out if any of them are here in the city, and bring their info to Beecher. Quietly. Then meet me at the Shanakee. I need to speak with you in private.”

Falcon handed the steward a purse heavy and jingling with coins.

“Very good sir.” The man was off at a brisk pace.

Falcon never broke stride. He knew precisely where he was going, the best route there, as well as every alternate route, escape route, hiding place, ambush location, and more – knowledge earned from hours of painstaking scouting and mapping. He knew River City like the back of his hand.

He entered his bar, the Shanakee. It was a small, cozy pub a bit out of the way, on Shank Road rather than the bustling Pub Street. It was quieter than most places, cool but inviting, with a clean stone floor, granite walls and soft torch lighting.

This early, he found it nearly empty. Tim, the most faithful of the regulars, occupied his usual bar stool, a tankard in front of him half full of ale. Elise was in the process of opening for the day, arranging cups, kegs and wine bottles.

“Good morn to you, Mister Falcon,” she called cheerfully.

“Hello, Elise.”

He sat at his table, tucked away in the rear corner. He kept his back to the wall, facing the door. Wardok sat next to him. Beecher took his customary spot leaning against the bar, ready and watchful.

Elise brought Falcon a tankard of ale and wine for Wardok. “Good to see you,” she smiled. “You going to be in the city for more than an hour this time?”

Falcon said, “Maybe a bit longer this time. We’ll see. Where is Tamara?”

“She was not expecting you. She should be here around noon.”

Elise moved on. Falcon sipped the ale.

Darryn arrived a short time later.

“Our men have received your orders, sir,” he said, standing at attention in front of Falcon. “If anyone on that list is here in the city, we will know within the hour.”

“Good. Listen, there’s one man in particular I’m interested in. Alec Braun. Outlander. Heard anything of him?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“He had some companions. A little guy named Rany. A big, rough looking guy named Sammyl. And another big guy, Handice, missing a hand. And a girl. Young, pretty, brown hair – rather striking I am told. They should have come in yesterday morning on a ship out of Crille – the Stony Lareiux.”

Darryn was already nodding. “Yes, I know the ship, and it did drop off three passengers and leave shortly after. Three men like the ones you just described, carrying a girl on a litter. The girl you describe sounds much like the one who stole a horse from the stables last night. She was last seen riding south. A man named Sammyl was arrested last night for assaulting a guard. His bounty was paid in full by a man named Rany, and he was released. If I check my sources, I should be able to determine what movements they made after that.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s impressive.”

Darryn acknowledged the compliment with a tilt of his head. “Thank you, sir.”

“Go and get me all the intel you can on them, and see if Alec Braun is in the city. He wouldn’t have been on the ship, but might have come sometime after. Or if he’s smart, he’ll stay far, far away from here. Either way, he’s going to be a dead man soon.”

“Very well, sir.” Darryn bowed smoothly and left as quickly as he had come in.

“Got a location on the villager yet?” he asked Wardok. When Falcon had healed Handice, it had left a mark that Wardok could follow.

“He is not in the city. He is a good day’s ride south of here and moving quickly. On horseback for certain.”

“He went with the girl. Maybe they all went. Braun too.”

“If I may ask, what is the importance of the girl? She has the Talent but it is not strong at all, from what I hear.”

“She’s nothing. We’re not after her at all. Just Alec. And that’s a goddamn waste of time if you ask me. I don’t even know if he’s coming back as the same character. Still…I hope he does.”

Darryn rushed back into the pub. “Sir,” he said. “We have located one of the outlanders on the list, here in town. Shane Moody. He appears to be making preparations to leave. Do you wish that we have him followed out of the city?”

“No.” Falcon got to his feet. “I’m going to deal with him right fucking now.”

Darryn lead him to his quarry, who was standing outside the Gray Mare Inn on Front Street, his horse being prepared for travel.

“Shane Moody,” Falcon called to the man. He was tall, every inch of his body chiseled with muscle. He looked like Conan the Barbarian. He had a great sword on his back.

“Yeah?” the man asked, looking annoyed. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I am Mister Falcon. Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

“Nope. What the fuck do you want?”

“I’ve been asked to talk to you. About a little fun you had in the town of Wellborn.”

“That’s nice. I don’t have time to talk right now. Maybe later.”

“I think now will be fine. It won’t take long.”

Moody tried to turn and go to his horse. Beecher blocked his way.

He turned back to Falcon. “What the fuck is this?”

A crowd had begun to gather.

“You killed six villagers. Innocent people. Just for the hell of it. Some people I know don’t like that very much.”

“Yeah? Fuck ‘em.”

“No. Fuck you. You’re done with this game.”

Moody went for his sword. Without bothering to draw his, Falcon attacked him with his fists, hammering him with a quick combination of blows. Moody went down. He looked up at Falcon from the ground, no longer so confident.

“See this?” Falcon drew his blade. “This sword is charmed. A very unique spell. I call it ‘Permakill.’”

Business at the Shanakee had begun to pick up. Two more regulars had joined Tim at the bar.

Tamara had taken over the bartending duty.

“Falcon! They told me you were here! I can’t believe it!”

She wore a blue dress that went down to her ankles.

Falcon returned her smile. “Hey. How’ve you been?”

“Very well, though I have missed you. It’s been over a week. Fucker. Sit down, I’ll bring you your tankard. Hello, gentlemen,” she greeted Wardok and Beecher.

Falcon sat at his table, with Wardok.

Beecher took his customary position by the bar.

A boy came into the Shanakee, a messenger. He handed a note to Beecher, who brought it to Falcon.

Subject R has accommodations at the Painted Lady. Subject S left this morn on a boat to Meridea. Subject H not seen since yesterday evening, whereabouts currently unknown. D

Falcon burned the note. He took a fresh parchment from Wardok and scribbled back:

Keep eyes on R. Dispatch two reliable men to Meridea to track S. Don’t worry about H. MF

Beecher took the note to the boy, who took off at a sprint.

Tamara brought Falcon his ale and sat down next to him.

“You certainly appear busy.”

Falcon sighed. “It’s almost starting to feel like work, instead of a damn game.”

She rubbed his back. “Drink some ale, take your mind off it all for a bit. Let me take care of you.”

“Wardok,” said Falcon, but Wardok was already getting up.

“I think I will have a drink at the bar if that is all right.”

Falcon nodded and Wardok took the empty barstool by Beecher.

Falcon said to Tamara, “I’m starting to worry. What if I’m endangering you?”

“Oh please. I can take care of myself. Your worry is cute though.”

“From now on, I’m putting a guard on you at all times. Even while you sleep.”

“What about my privacy?”

“They’ll keep a respectful distance, give you space when you need it. But they’ll always be close.”

“What about when you and I are…together?”

“They’ll be far enough away then. But still close.”

“Gods, you really are serious today,” her brow furrowed. “Are you all right, husband?”

He smiled at her. “I’m fine. Just got myself into some shit, I think.”

“Can I help in any way?”

“Maybe,” Falcon said, thinking. “You ever heard of Griffin Roane?”

“I don’t think so. Is he an outlander?”

“No. He is a minor noble, an aide to Sylvera, in Crille.”

“Sylvera. Now her I know of. A duchess.”

“Right. Find out what you can about her, and about Roane, but do it quietly. Don’t attract attention to yourself. These people are dangerous. Ruthless.”

“Sounds exciting,” she said, her brown eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

“You still keep that dagger on you?”

“Always. I have it on my person as we speak. Can you tell where?”

“There’s a man here to see you,” Wardok told Falcon in that gravelly voice. “Outlander. Claims to be the leader of the Dev’s Guild. But we don’t know him or have any files on him. Calls himself ‘Mike Crawford.’”

Falcon straightened his armor and checked his sword. “Ok.”

Falcon went downstairs to the bar.

The man was dressed plainly – no armor or weapons visible. The sigil of the Dev’s Guild was tattooed on his right wrist.

“You wanted to see me?” Falcon took the empty seat across from the man.

The man smiled. “Mister Falcon?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Crawford. Nice to meet you, finally.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“That’s not surprising. I stay behind the scenes mostly. I’m not just a Dev’s Guild member. I work for Kagen Enterprises. I’m a developer. I helped create this world.”

“I thought a computer program created it.”

“True to an extent. But someone had to create the program.”

“Well, good job.”

“Thank you. Listen, you’re a tough man to get ahold of. We’ve been trying to call and email you for the past week.”

“Sorry.”

“Finally figured this is the only place we’d be able to catch up with you. So here I am.”

“Here you are.”

Crawford smiled uncomfortably. “You seem to have gathered this isn’t a social call. Let me get right to it. We love players like you. You’re one of the best in the game…”

“One of?”

“Maybe the best, for now. And you know that we have almost no rules for what you all can do in this world. That’s the beauty of it. But we’ve had reports of some problems. Four players have complained to the company because they seem to be permanently locked out of the game. We checked and sure enough, they are completely unable to resurrect, start a new character, they can’t even delete their account, start a new one and start over. No matter what they do, no matter what we do, the game won’t let them in.”

“And?”

“All four of these players reported being killed by you, with a sword charmed with a spell you call ‘Permakill.’ Is that true?”

“Yes. It’s true.”

“Nothing like this was ever supposed to be implemented. So you understand our concern, I am sure. Did you create this spell?”

“Me? Hell no.”

“Do you know where it came from?”

“Not exactly.”

“But your sword is in fact enchanted with this spell?”

“Yes.”

“Even now, as we sit here.”

“Yes.”

“That sword on your back.”

“This sword.”

“Can I have the sword?”

“No.”

“I’m prepared to give you a million gold for that sword.”

“That’s all?”

“That is a fortune. Even for you. But we can talk about throwing in some other stuff. We want to do this the easy way. Keep things friendly between us.”

“Almost sounds like you’re threatening me.”

“Please. Why should I even have to? Surely you can see that a thing like that is not good for this game. Not good for any of us.”

“I haven’t broken any rules. I got this sword fairly. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong? Maybe you don’t understand the ramifications of what you’ve done. Or the consequences of you even walking around with that thing. Think about it.”

“I have.”

“Where did you get the sword?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Now you’re just being difficult.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. But I’m keeping the sword. It’s bound to me anyway. The spell won’t work for anyone but me.”

“Will you stop using it at least?”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“You don’t understand how serious this is.”

“Actually, I do. Believe me. Anything else?”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Crawford said, “This has been a friendly meeting. As of now, we have no quarrel with you. If I walk out of here without that sword, our position will change. The Dev Guild’s presence in Friedor may not appear strong, but remember who runs the guild. I will give you one last chance to take a million gold for that sword. If you refuse, that million will go toward a bounty, on your head.”

“Sounds like fun. Since we’re past the friendly stage, how big would the bounty be if I demonstrate how the sword works on you?”

“Twice in one day. I could get used to this.” Tamara lied naked beside Falcon.

“Me too. Sometimes I wish I’d taken it easier in this game, instead of trying to be the best goddamn player ever. It’d be kind of nice if I could just spend all my time here with you.”

“You know I hate when you talk of all this as a game.”

“I’m sorry. This part of it, with you, is no game at all. This is as real as it gets.”

“It is all real to me. This is my life, my world.”

“I know. I understand.”

“When do you need to leave? ‘log off’ I mean.”

“I don’t know. Soon. I need to go get something to eat, get out of the house for a bit. Take a shower for Christ’s sake.”

“Tell me about your city again.”

“Jesus, Tamara, there really isn’t that much to tell. It’s a boring place, not much to do.”

“If I could go there with you, what would we do together?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. It is nice to think about. Well, it’s summer right now, so maybe we’d go to the beach. You’d look great in a bikini.”

“What is a bikini?”

“Shit, hang on real quick. Someone’s at my door.”

Falcon’s face changed in a way that only someone paying close attention would notice. He continued to blink and move, but in an automated sort of way, and his eyes had gone somewhat vacant, almost as if he were in a drunken stupor.

Tamara sighed and got out of bed. She pulled her dress over her head and slipped on her shoes. She looked at Falcon for a time, then busied herself brushing her hair, eyeing her reflection in a hand held mirror.

“Sorry,” Falcon said. “It was a fucking salesman.”

She looked at him and smiled.

“Listen,” he said. “Fuck logging off early tonight. I think I’ll just spend the next few hours with you.”

“There is indeed a bounty on your head for…one million gold,” Darryn told him.

It was morning. Falcon was sitting at his corner table.

“Those fucking assholes.”

“This is very bad. A bounty like that…you will have people all over the realm after you.”

“Ah, well fuck it. I know how to handle this.”

“Of course, sir.” The steward sat silent, frowning.

“Come on Darryn, you can speak freely. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I must confess, it does concern me how this will affect business. And also our ability to add additional people to the payroll. It will be difficult to sort out who we can trust. I worry enough about the people we have now.”

“Do you?” Falcon said. “Beecher. Wardok. Let’s go for a walk. You too, Darryn.”

“Sir, are you certain this is a good idea? This is an outlander establishment – are they not the ones you need to worry about most?”

“Don’t worry. You three stay back. Just watch. Whatever happens, do not come to my aid.”

Moe’s Tavern, owned by an outlander, had about a dozen patrons inside, all outlanders.

Falcon strolled in.

“Listen up, assholes!”

The place went quiet.

Falcon stood in the very center of the room, over ten men and their weapons within arm’s reach of him.

“You all have probably heard by now about this bullshit bounty on me. A million gold. A lot of fucking money. By the Dev’s Guild – the fucking developers! Anybody curious as to why?”

He drew his sword. “All because of this right here. This sword is what they want. Anyone here know what’s so special about this sword?”

“Yeah, we know,” a man said. “Permakill.”

“You’re goddamn right. Permakill. Anyone I kill with this motherfucker is gone from the game, forever. Five people now have learned that lesson the hard way. But you know what? They deserved it. They came in here and acted like fucking asses. I don’t have any problems with regular players, people here just trying to have a good time. You don’t fuck with me, don’t fuck with innocent people, you’ve got nothing to worry about from me. But fuck with me, come after me for that million gold, and best of luck to you. Even if you can beat me, I’ll be back. You can be damn sure of that. But I kill you, you’re out of the game forever.”

“So anybody want to collect? Come on. I’m right here.”

Nobody moved.

“You there!” Falcon pointed at a man. “Is that a tattoo on your wrist? Don’t hide it. Let me see.”

The man held up his arm. “Look, Falcon, I thought it would be cool to join the Dev’s Guild. I’ve got nothing against you. I had nothing to do with them placing that bounty.”

“But you’re still in the guild, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Any member of the Dev’s Guild, from this point forward, is my enemy. I will kill them on sight. Still want to be a member?”

“Well, Trang’s Guild is starting to sound pretty good. You don’t have a problem with them, do ya?”

A few people chuckled.

“No, I’ve got no problem with them. But you’d better get rid of that tattoo pretty damn quick.”

“Already gone.” The man held up his bare arm.

“Fair enough. You can be the last man I see with that sigil that I don’t kill. As for any after that…”

“Fuck the Dev’s Guild!” someone yelled.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em! Bunch of hall monitor motherfuckers. No offense, George.”

“None taken. I’m no longer a member. Stupid of me to join anyway.”

“Get the word around,” Falcon told them.

He walked out.