Jeffrey Holt’s logout sequence finished, and he awoke in his pod inside the Swords & Sorcery headquarters. The room he was in was a large, circular facility designated for testers and developers. There were three concentric rows of pods circling the room, enough for fifty people at full capacity. In the center of the room was a staging area for scrums before and after sessions. For the meeting with the actor, the room had been reserved, empty save for the lawyers from Latimer, the GM, and Holt himself.

All around him, the contingent of lawyers sat up in their respective pods. The Game Master - MoonCrawler - was also here. He was a corpulent man, his body so large he had to squeeze his fat rolls into the pod device. Everything about the man disgusted Holt.

Goldman was the first to rise from the pod, and Holt couldn’t help but notice the man stood in sharp contrast to the GM in every way. He was tall, the suggestion of muscle visible even through his exquisitely tailored suit. When he stood, he commanded the attention of the entire room.

None of that mattered though - the man had completely fumbled the ball back there, and Holt was barely suppressing his rage.

“Everyone gather round,” Goldman’s voice boomed out. Holt distantly noted the GM struggling to rise from his pod, but put his disgust to the back of his mind. He had a bone to pick with Goldman.

“What the hell was that?” Holt demanded as he approached the lawyer. “That was not what we discussed! You practically bent over backwards for that hacker and his rep.” He stood face-to-face with Goldman now, and though he was nearly a head shorter than the man, he was done backing down to this outsider.

Goldman matched his gaze for a moment, his face expressionless. The silence began to grow heavy, and Holt resisted the urge to shift his weight. He opened his mouth to repeat the question, but Goldman broke the silence first.

“The strategy was solid given what we knew going into the meeting. But the circumstances changed, and I adapted.” Holt started a retort, but the man overrode him. “Lawyer or not, that man came armed for war - a war we were not prepared for. In the next few hours, we will rectify that.”

“And how - exactly - will we do that?” Holt asked, his tone filled with acid.

Goldman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he whirled on Holt, making him jump in surprise. “Mr. Holt, I have been given the reins of this operation by Latimer himself. Your role is purely in an advisory capacity, and subject to my patience…Patience that you are sorely testing. Now get in line, close your mouth, and open your ears.” He turned to address the group as a whole. “I’m going to explain how we salvage this wreck.”

Holt bristled at the man’s tone, the heat rising to his collar. How dare he address Holt like that in front of the others. He wanted to argue, shout at the man, but he had to acknowledge the truth. Goldman was in charge and had Latimer’s ear…for now.

So, he did what he was asked, knowing that he would have the last word eventually.

Goldman watched Holt for a moment, then scanned the crowd of men. His eyes locked on the Game Master who was attempting to hide behind the line of lawyers.

“You,” he said, pointing at the GM. Holt couldn’t for the life of him remember the cow’s name, but knew his in-game persona was MoonCrawler. More like PizzaCrawler, he thought. MoonCrawler wilted under the attention, shrinking in on himself for a moment as if to hide, but then realized how idiotic that was and stepped forward.

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“Ye-yes,” he stammered, his face the picture of defeat. He looked like a boy waiting for his father to come home with the belt.

“You are not, under any circumstances, to make contact with the damsel in any way,” Goldman said. MoonCrawler’s face dropped, then perked up when he realized what that implied. Holt himself was also shocked by the implication. “Instead,” Goldman continued, “you are on watchdog duty. I want you to track Mr. Davis’ every move - from a distance. Hourly reports to Mr. Holt here,” he said with a wave in Holt’s direction. “Is that understood?”

MoonCrawler nodded vigorously, his many chins wobbling. “Yes, sir, Mr. Goldman, sir.” Holt couldn’t imagine why he would task such an important job to a clear idiot, but now wasn’t the time for a fresh challenge to Goldman’s authority.

Next, he turned to one of his associates, the only other lawyer that had been allowed to sit at the table. “Mike, reach out to that player the damsel killed. Tell him he’ll be comped the next 6 months and his gold restored…but only if he reaches out to the prominent sites covering S&S.” Holt furrowed his brow at that. He wanted to leak the story? “Coach him - discreetly - on the details of his story. A rogue actor went off the rails, savagely and mercilessly threw him out the window. He begged for his life, blah, blah, blah.”

“Got it,” the man replied.

Goldman turned to move on, but one of his team spoke up. “Mr. Goldman, is it wise to leak the story this soon?”

“We’re getting ahead of the story, Jim. That wannabe lawyer was smart and weaseled Mr. Davis out of an NDA. The only story that matters is the one people hear first. Didn’t I teach you that?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“I understand, sir. Apologies.”

Goldman nodded at the man, then addressed the whole crowd. “Our primary goal is to remove the damsel from the game - ASAP. But our secondary goal is to make him public enemy number one. If we can make the player base hate him, our job is halfway done.” He scanned the crowd as everyone nodded in agreement. When his eyes found Holt, they locked onto him. Here we go, he thought, bracing himself for some shit duty. “Mr. Holt, I have a couple tasks for you and your team. But first, a question: do we know if the damsel character will respawn upon death?”

That was not what Holt had been expecting, and it took him a moment to change gears. He remembered what his technicians had told him earlier. “Most likely not. He’s off grid, and neither a search for active players nor NPCs yields results. My people believe that he won’t transfer to a graveyard upon death. We can only assume that means true death, but we aren’t certain.”

Goldman nodded, a small smile touching his lips. “Perfect, that’s just perfect. Your first task then, is to have your people begin excising the code encompassing Mr. Davis. That’ll be our backup plan.”

“And the primary plan?” Holt asked, glad to distract from their earlier spat. It was best for Goldman to think he had taken it in stride - so the man wouldn’t expect the blindside when it came.

The lawyer’s smile grew larger, oblivious to the machinations whirring within Holt’s mind. “Can I assume you have your finger on the pulse of the prominent player-killer guilds in game?”

Holt immediately understood the context of that question, and a mostly genuine smile touched his own lips. “Yes, I can have a list compiled in minutes.”

“Excellent. Reach out to the top guilds, two or three for now. Contract them to assassinate the damsel. 100,000 credits is a sufficiently large sum, is it not?” Holt struggled to contain his shock. That was nearly his own yearly salary.

“Do you-ahem-that is, do we have authorization to promise that amount?” Holt asked, trying - and failing - to keep his tone casual.

“Mr. Holt, that’s just the taster. If I have to promise a million credits to make this problem go away, then I’ll do it.” Holt’s breath caught. “But let’s start with 100,000, hmm?” Goldman continued, oblivious to the greedy thoughts suddenly churning in Holt’s mind. “NDAs must be signed, of course." Goldman turned to address the larger crowd. "Within the week, the damsel known as Ray Davis will be a footnote on the annals of S&S’s history. Relegated to the bottom of a wiki where all the cute little bugs go to be forgotten.”

Holt nodded along with the others in attendance. But his thoughts were elsewhere, the gears turning.

How could he make sure that million credits ended up in his hands?