Awakening in his bed, Tolbert shivered despite the warmth of the room. He moved to the bathroom and relieved himself. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the wall-mounted clock: three in the morning. Sighing he climbed into bed and tried to go to sleep, but sleep eluded him.

Rising, he turned on his computer. After the computer started up, he hovered his mouse over the icon for Dragon Hunt. His stomach contracted and he moved it to hover over Space Traders, his brain winced before moving to an older game. Medieval Knight, a game where he played the role of a French knight during the Hundred Years’ War. He loaded up his old character, a grizzled veteran of many years of fighting.

The dirt beneath his charger was dry and dusty, and the smell of horse sweat assaulted Tolbert’s nose as the horses nickered around him.

Across the field, Tolbert’s enemy waited. They were trapped, the cliff behind them, a sheer drop to the beach fifty metres below.

Tolbert’s heavy cavalry hemmed them against this cliff. Tolbert raised his hand and the horses moved forward at a slow steady trot.

The enemy made no move to escape the attacking heavy cavalry.

Tolbert signalled an increase in speed. The Knights increased their speed. Lowering their lances, the knights picked up more speed, charging across the field. The wind whistled through Tolbert’s helmet, making whistling sounds. The ground rumbled with the pounding of the horses’ hooves. Closing and then crashing into the enemy, Tolbert was deafened by the sound of the crashing steel resounding in his helmet.

Reacting automatically, Tolbert dropped his broken lance and drew his sword. An agile light horseman stabbed Tolbert with his tuck, a short sword designed to cut through chain mail and slice between steel plates, catching Tolbert in the mail at the elbow. The force glided through his elbow.

Tolbert’s sword arm bled and was immobilized. Pain seared through his arm as another sword stabbed at Tolbert’s shoulder. Falling from the saddle over the horse’s rump, he hit the ground with a loud snapping sound that echoed through his armour.

The horse panicked and ran away.

Tolbert couldn’t move. The sounds of battle continued as he lay on the ground bleeding. Tolbert’s neck was broken. Unable to move, he watched as the sounds of horses and people fighting slowed while blood pumped out of his arm. A horse’s hoof crashed down onto his face, killing him instantly.

Awakening with a start, Tolbert sat up. The hard dirt beneath him had given him a backache. The sound of cars came to him from above. Looking up, he found himself sitting underneath a bridge.

“Good afternoon.” A greeting came from his left.

Tolbert turned and spotted a man dressed in dark patchy clothes with a long dishevelled beard.

“What?” Tolbert croaked, his throat dry and dusty from the dust around him.

“Good morning,” the bearded man corrected.

“What am I doing here?” insisted Tolbert. Who is this person and why is he talking to me?

“From what I could tell, you were sleeping,” the man answered.

“Normally I do that at home,” Tolbert remarked. Great. Now he thinks he is a comedian.

“Don’t we all” the man laughed, walking off in a huff.

Standing, Tolbert dusted himself off. He was wearing only the boxers that he had donned last night. Where am I? Okay this is strange; I remember playing Space Traders. Did I sleepwalk? Tolbert walked up the embankment heading home. In the bushes, a pale lady in a simple shift watched Tolbert with a sinister smile, before disappearing.

Tolbert yawned as he finished cleaning, bags under his eyes.

“Be careful” Geoff warned as Tolbert left work.

Tolbert smiled and waved to Geoff as he left for home. Tolbert kept checking over his shoulder on the way. He walked quickly to the subway, yawning. Looking over his shoulder, he heard a horn blare. Swinging his head around, he saw the front end of a large truck’s grill just before it rode up over the curb and hits him sandwiching Tolbert into the wall of the building behind him. Tolbert died with his body pressed between a semi and the wall of a building.

On the sidewalk, a lady in a pale white shift smiled as she watched the truck collide with the wall of the building. She then crossed the street and faded into the crowd. The large troll she had materialised in the road for the driver had had the desired effect. Now to test his sense of reality.

Striker sat at his computer. Leaning back into his large computer chair he looked at the computer screen. The icons on the screen show a large collection of games sorted into several categories. He opened the files for Dragon Hunt, looking carefully over the code. Reading through the code he found it as he expected it to be; nothing unusual to explain the odd sensations he’d had while playing with Tolbert. An Internet search revealed no new breakthroughs in virtual gaming and the company producing Dragon Hunt was a dead end, a simple shell corporation leading to a post office box in New York. The game reviews he found didn’t mention anyone else having such a vivid experience.

Striker sighed, another dead end, and logged onto the game. He checked his friend's list on Dragon Hunt and noticed that Tolbert was not online. Leaning back in his computer chair, he crossed his arms, resting them on his large belly. The only way to find out what is going on will be to communicate with Tolbert and find out if he knows anything. He leaned forward, a slight smile on his face; he had no choice.

He opened a command prompt and typed in code. He ran a test on the Dragon Hunt’s antivirus walls. The ping revealed only one weakness in the software’s defence. Coding again, Striker created false proxies, to create several probes on the Dragon Hunt firewall. All returned with the same weakness.

“Oh well,” Striker sighed as he began writing the Trojan. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Gaby noticed the test on her perimeter defences and quickly ran a trace on the source. It was coming from subject beta. Gaby created a hole in her defence perimeter and then cloaked it, preparing herself for the next attack that she knew was coming. This was exactly what she wanted; subject beta was solving her problem for her.

Now to lure in the fish and land him.

The Trojan ready to go, Striker released it into the server of Dragon Hunt. Striker monitored the programme as it assaulted the Dragon Hunt server. He was ready to adapt the programme to suit to the defences. The Trojan punched through the antivirus walls. Striker noted the strength of the walls. Pushing further into the server, Striker hovered his hands over the keyboard, ready. As the Trojan stepped back out of the server and bounced around the proxies, Striker started to craft his real attack.

Gaby watched the Trojan come in through the back door she had created and stopped her automatic defences. Gaby let Striker in. Gaby watched as the Trojan sent back security information. Gaby smiled to herself. She waited, ready for the real attack. The hook was set; soon it would be time to reel him in.

Striker exulted in a successful Trojan attack. He missed the thrill of hacking. He began to create a targeted drone to seek out Tolbert’s personal information. He crafted a two-pronged attack, one part a diversion to attract the server’s defences, the other to go in and grab information on a specific player. He felt alive for the first time in months.

The second attack came with force, blowing through the outer barrier like an explosion. Gaby allowed her automated defences to work. She watched as a piece of code broke off from the main attack; it searched her database, rapidly retrieving specific information. It pinpointed the information it was programmed to acquire and backed out. Retrieving the information, and then it retreated.

Striker quailed when the drone returned with the information. That virus defence had improved quite a lot in the two hours. Someone must have seen me make the attack and added an extra layer of defence. But the defences were coordinated more like it was alive.

Letting the drone die at the beefed-up defences Striker set up an alert notice to inform him when Tolbert might come online. He must play more than just Dragon Hunt. I wonder if he is having the same effect on the other games elsewhere.

Inspecting the profile, he had obtained. Striker ran the name through a search on the Internet. The quick search revealed that Tolbert had been involved in an accident; a semi had run up the curb and sandwiched Tolbert to a wall. He had been rushed to the hospital.

Slumping into his chair Striker frowned at the screen. The police report stated that Tolbert had died on the way to the hospital from wounds obtained during the scene. Sitting up, Striker noticed that the report did not include a death certificate. Striker got up and started packing his bag.

What would cause the police to not put a death certificate into the file and close the file?

I need to find Tolbert and I need to find that AI server to get a better look at it.