[THE HAVEN]

Captain Lair strolled past the shops of floor fourteen, wearing a gray hoodie, black jeans and a pair of dull brown shoes. This wasn’t actually Captain Lair of course - this was Jay, wearing Anton’s Captain Lair mask. Being seen as ‘Jay’ seemed like a bad idea.

His pill-dependent days were over, but visiting Esara for lunch was tradition. He had a lot to figure out, and he didn’t want to do it alone.

A familiar song played over the Heals loudspeaker:

Girlie, girlie, girle,

You’re my cinnamon swirlie…

Jay didn’t mind this song as much as Esara; it was actually kind of catchy. Of course, he didn’t have to listen to it every day either.

“You’re salty and you’re sweet, like an after dinner treat,” sang a man behind the counter.

This wasn’t Esara; this was Jerry, one of Marcen’s goons. He leaned on the counter, scratching at a red dragonoid tattoo.

“C’mon, no masks in the store,” said Jerry. “Unless, you have an ugly face?”

Jay nodded.

“Okay, I can respect that,” said Jerry.

“Where’s Esara?” asked Jay.

“She’s taking the day off,” said Jerry. “Who wants to know?”

“Esara doesn’t take days off,” said Jay.

“Well, maybe she’s sick or something,” said Jerry.

A loud bang came from somewhere behind the counter.

“What was that?” asked Jay.

“I dunno,” said Jerry. “Maybe it was the plumbing or something.”

Another series of erratic bangs.

“That’s not the plumbing,” said Jay.

“It’s also none of your business,” said Jerry. “Now why don’t you scram, or I’ll mess up your face so bad you’ll need two masks.”

***

Danny puffed silver smoke from his inhaler.

“Can’t say I expected to see you again,” said Danny. “Your new unit’s not good enough for you, eh?”

“I think Esara’s in trouble,” said Jay.

“Why should I care about that, eh?” said Danny.

“Because she’s your friend,” said Jay.

“Zayder’s balls, she’s no friend of mine,” Danny snarled. “I owed her, and now we’re square.”

Danny took another puff of his inhaler.

“She’s got new friends anyhow,” said Danny. “Too good for us down here.”

Danny refilled his inhaler with a small bag of dark green powder.

“Help me save her,” said Jay. “I’ll owe you one.”

Danny’s eyebrow raised.

“You sure you want that?” asked Danny. “That’s a real commitment right there.”

“Yeah,” said Jay.

Danny released a coarse laugh.

“That girl doesn’t usually need protection,” said Danny. “But if she does, you’re gonna need something heavy duty, eh?”

Danny shuffled through a drawer of overflowing metal scrap. Jay’s eyes drifted across a table of stale food, the aftermath of an orgy, and the red pulsing shadow of the hideous Zayder statue next door.

There was also a man sitting cross-legged on a sofa nearby. He wore a stylish red top hat, a perfect red suit, and a metallic red backpack. That backpack looked heavy, but he carried it without strain. He gave Jay a subtle nod, stroking an impeccable handlebar mustache.

Jay quickly turned away as Danny procured a small gun.

“This is the one,” said Danny. “Not much to look at, but the guy on the other side won’t be looking too long, eh?”

Danny twirled it in his hand.

“You do know how to use one of these, eh?”

“Of course,” said Jay.

Jay reached for it, but Danny yanked it back.

“Not yet,” said Danny. “This shit ain’t free.”

Danny coughed into his sleeve.

“You’re a Zero Space player, eh?” asked Danny. “Weapons like this are hard to get. If you want something rare, it’ll cost something rare.”

Jay tensed up. He wasn’t sure he was willing to part with his newly-acquired Level 2. But if he had to choose between that and Esara --

“You’re gonna to bring me an exotic,” said Danny.

“Wait, a what?” asked Jay.

Danny smirked.

“An exotic is a material from another server,” said Danny. “That shit goes for a king’s ransom. Should pay off that gun of yours, eh?”

“Another server?” shouted Jay. “That’s impossible!”

“That’s your problem,” said Danny. “I’ll give you three days.”

Jay looked flustered. Danny cracked a smile, then handed Jay the gun.

“Hope that girl’s worth it to you, eh?”

***

“Closing time Jerry,” yelled Marcen. “You don’t want to be late, hmm?”

“C’mon, wait up!” yelled Jerry. He leapt over the counter of Heals, joining Marcen and Terry outside. “We’re gonna get waaaasted!”

“Speak for yourself,” said Terry.

Marcen patted Terry’s back with his non-bandaged hand.

“Now now, Terry,” said Marcen. “I’m sure the bartender can fetch you a nice mineral water.”

Marcen and Jerry laughed. Terry did not.

The three men stomped away as a metal shutter descended behind them. Seconds before the shutter touched down, Jay slid inside.

A creeping glow from the neon sign of HEALS guided Jay through the pharmacy’s darkened aisles. Despite the store being closed, music still played over the loudspeakers:

Girlie, girlie, girlie,

You’re my cinnamon swirlie...

If Esara was trapped in here, she had likely been driven to madness.

A loud BANG came from somewhere near the back. Jay stepped past the counter and entered a short hallway. It led to a few small offices, a bathroom, and a heavy metal door.

BANG

-- From the metal door. Jay hurried over, yanking on its handle: it was sealed shut.

BANG BANG

“Esara, are you in there?” Jay yelled.

No response. Then --

BANG

“Esara, it’s Jay!” Jay yelled.

BANG BANG

Jay was pretty sure this wasn’t the plumbing, but he needed to confirm. He slammed his fist against the door - BANG!

There was a short delay, then --

BANG BANG BANG

Definitely not the plumbing. But if this was Esara, she couldn’t hear him. If only they shared some sort of secret knock or inside joke -- wait, they did.

“Girlie, girlie, girlie,” Jay hummed to himself, counting out the syllables on his hands:

Gir-lie, gir-lie, gir-lie,

1 2 3 4 5 6

6 syllables

“You’re my cinnoman swirlie,” Jay continued, counting:

You’re my cin-no-man swir-lie

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

7 syllables

Jay knocked a familiar rhythm:

BANG-BANG BANG-BANG BANG-BANG (Gir-lie, gir-lie, gir-lie)

BANG BANG BANG-BANG-BANG BANG-BANG (you’re my cin-no-man swir-lie)

Then he waited. Finally, the door knocked back:

BANG BANG-BANG BANG BANG BANG (you’re sal-ty and you’re sweet)

BANG BANG BANG-BANG BANG-BANG BANG (like an af-ter din-ner treat)

That confirmed it.

“Esara!” Jay cried.

No response.

“I don’t know how to get you out,” Jay said.

All that effort sneaking in, and making a deal with Danny - what was it for? Not even Shae would be able to force this door open.

Jay hit random numbers on a keypad next to the door: no dice. Without the combination, Esara wasn’t going anywhere.

Jay slammed both fists against the door.

“I’m sorry Esara,” said Jay. “I screwed up. Again.”

Jay slumped against the door.

“Marcen did this, didn’t he?” Jay asked.

No response.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you,” Jay said. “I’m a shit friend.”

Jay couldn’t help it. He wiped a tear or two from his eyes.

“I should have brought you with me to the Goblin King,” said Jay. “I messed up. You’re my best friend. I should have been there for you.”

Jay let his tears fall without restraint.

“I don’t have anyone,” said Jay. “I lost my brother. Now I’m losing you too.”

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

The noise didn’t even rattle Jay.

“My life sucks,” said Jay. “You were one of the few good things in it. I don’t know what to --”

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Jay waited for a moment, then continued.

“If we get out of this, I promise I’ll treat you better. I won’t let --”

BANG BANG

A pause.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Jay stood, staring at the door. There was an oddly specific rhythm to those knocks.

After a moment, the banging resumed. This time, Jay listened close:

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG (6 knocks)

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG (8 knocks)

BANG BANG (2 knocks)

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG (5 knocks)

Jay looked at the keypad. He reached towards it:

6-8-2-5

The door swung open!

Esara stumbled out, falling on top of Jay. He analyzed her face: a black eye, several scratches, and a bruise across her forehead.

“Jay?” asked Esara. “What are you doing here?”

“What were you doing in there?” asked Jay.

Both questions went unanswered.

“Were you crying?” asked Esara.

“No,” said Jay, wiping his eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And go where?” asked Esara. “I hurt Marcen really bad. They’re going to come after me. I can’t go home after this.”

“Then come with me,” said Jay. “You can stay with me.”

Esara gave him a blank expression.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” asked Esara.

“I owe you one,” said Jay.

Esara gave him a faint smile.

“Well, we should hurry then,” said Esara. “If we’re not back before --”

A metal shutter opened.

“Esarfaaaaaa,” yelled a drunken Marcen. “We’re back early, my dear.”

Esara paled. Jay drew his handgun.

“Jay,” Esara said. “Please tell me where you got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jay.

Jerry’s laughter echoed down the hall.

“C’mon Esara!” yelled Jerry. “We’re ready for ya!”

Jerry’s shadow spread across the walls. Shae leaned against a metal locker, taking aim.

“Do you know how to use that?” asked Esara.

“Yeah, obviously,” said Jay. “Shae uses guns.”

Jerry slinked through the doorway.

“We’re gonna throw you one last party girlie,” said Jerry.

Shae lined up the shot. Could he really take a life? It didn’t feel much different than in-game -- Jay gave his head a quick smack; that didn’t seem like a healthy thought.

He got Jerry in his sights and --

CLICK

Nothing. Jay looked terrified. He aimed again:

CLICK CLICK

Jerry glanced over, scanning the darkness for the source of the noise.

Esara ripped the pistol from Jay’s hand, giving him the stink-eye. She turned off the safety, then took aim.

Jerry finally noticed the metal door - it was wide open.

“Mar…” Jerry started. “Mar, Marcen!”

BANG BANG BANG

Three bullets entered Jerry’s body. Two to the chest, and one right between the eyes. Jerry smacked against the wall, dragging down a bloody trail.

Jay paled. Outside of forums, he had never seen a dead body before. They didn’t look much different than they did in Zero Space. This one wouldn’t respawn in eight hours however.

“Let’s move,” said Esara.

Jay responded with a weak nod, hurrying to her side.

Terry’s statue-like face leaned out from the end of the hall, aiming a shotgun towards --

“No!” Jay shouted.

Jay dove in front of Esara, taking a belly-full of shotgun spray. He fell backwards, his gray hoodie stained red.

“Jay!” Esara shrieked.

“I’ll, be okay,” groaned Jay.

“Stay where you are little lady!” yelled Terry, reloading his weapon.

Jay nudged Esara’s leg.

“Get, him,” said Jay.

Esara nodded. She leapt over Jay, skidding to a stop in front of Terry. The large man looked down at her with cold black eyes --

BANG BANG BANG

One bullet for each eye, and another straight through his forehead. Terry crumpled like a crushed can.

Jay crawled near Esara’s shins.

“Esarka!” another booming voice yelled.

Jay yanked Esara down behind the counter as several bullets ripped through the wall.

“You’ve gone too far this time girl,” yelled Marcen. “You’re not getting out of this one.”

Esara attempted to return fire --

CLICK CLICK

“Shit,” whispered Esara.

“Try hitting the thing on the back again,” asked Jay.

“It’s out of ammo Jay,” Esara growled. “Real guns have ammo!”

BANG BANG

Two more bullets pierced through the counter, dangerously close to Esara’s head.

“You’ve made a powerful enemy girl,” yelled Marcen. “You don’t know who you’re messing with!”

Esara grabbed Terry’s shotgun - it was a custom, complicated weapon. Attempting to reload it was a futile endeavor.

Jay was fading fast. He glanced upwards towards a security mirror: Marcen was reloading, crouched behind an aisle of vitamins.

“They’ll come for you Esarna,” said Marcen. “If I don’t kill you first, of course.”

Jay’s vision blurred as he collapsed by Esara’s feet.

“Jay, no,” said Esara. “Please, stay with me!”

“Give up girl,” Marcen taunted. “Come out, and I’ll let you live a while longer.”

Jay felt something in his hands - two purple blurs. His fingers coiled around them, fondling firm fiberglass.

-- No, it couldn’t be.

Two purple pistols rested in his hands. Shae’s pistols.

“Last chance,” said Marcen. “Make this easy for me, hmm?”

Marcen slipped out of cover, repositioning to flank them.

Jay focused on the security mirror, aiming his purple pistols:

“RICOCHET SHOT!”

-- Off the wall.

-- Off a shelf.

-- Straight through Marcen’s skull.

Marcen’s plummeting body crushed floor tiles into powder. Aisles of product shook, then toppled, covering his corpse in a gradient pile of pills.

Esara trembled, running her hands across Jay’s purple pistols - these were definitely Shae’s. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t possible.

Jay cried out in pain.

“Jay!” Esara cried, cradling him in her arms.

“Esara,” said Jay. “Unit 18863…”

Jay swallowed black blood.

“Unit 18863,” Jay repeated. “Meet me there, in eight hours.”

“Jay?” yelled Esara. “JAY!!”

Jay exhaled one last breath.