It was barely half an hour later before a group of Level 9 and 10 ne'er-do-wells could be found huddled in the shadows just beyond the walls of the Botanical Gardens.
They hadn’t been the first ones in the Red Zone to understand the implications of the *** End of Day One *** message, but they’d been the quickest out of the gate when it came to forming a pick-up group, suiting up for a little light mayhem and then high tailing it out here to the Amber Zone.
They knew that a similar group was making its way up the road to the Green Zone at the cricket stadium, but they’d turned their noses up at that sort of slaughter. They’d even been able to convince themselves they’d done so because at least the guys behind this wall had a theoretical chance of being able to defend themselves. There was some – extremely tarnished, it was fair to say – honour in that. Deep down, though, the reality was they’d each run the numbers and reckoned the sheer weight of players of that low level they’d need to kill in the Green Zone to gather any decent amount of XP just wasn’t going to be worth schlepping out to the back and beyond of Edgbaston for.
No, that was just going to be more trouble than it was worth. This little nightime slaughter though? Well, if they were lucky, they’d be able to sneak in here and murder a bunch of isolated Level 8s in their sleep before the rest of the lunatics in the Red Zone arrived, and things became more - if briefly - difficult.
The small group’s leader, a tall figure clad in dark leather armour, scanned the brick perimeter with a calculating gaze. His name was Drax – well, actually, it was William. But if there was one good thing that was going to come out of this damned integration, it was that he would get a name change out of it – and he was a Shadowblade with a very quickly earned reputation for being both ruthless and efficient.
Considering that, only the day before, William had been living a fairly unremarkable life as a loss adjuster for a mid-sized insurance company, it may be thought somewhat noteworthy he was to be found, knives in hand, skulking outside the wall of the Botanical Gardens, considering the easiest way to break in, kill some people, and then get back to base in time for a celebratory hot chocolate. And, in the very few quiet moments there had been for William in the last twelve hours, he had tried to unpick exactly what had happened to him that had brought this change about. As far as he could reckon it, at some stage between garrotting his boss with a telephone wire and skewering his eighth Wolf with a ‘borrowed’ letter opener, he had transformed into Drax. And it turned out Drax really didn’t give a fuck at all.
In fact, of the many seismic changes brought about by the System integration, the removal of the layers of civilisation that had kept William’s belligerent frustration at his wasted life in check, had led to something fairly dramatic. Funnily enough, it turned out that if you suddenly switched off forty-three years of repressed, middle-class Englishness at the same time as opening the Class ability sweetshop, shit got real pretty quickly.
What that meant, right now, with his
Next to him, Hex – this time, surprisingly, her real name – a wiry woman with an arsenal of vials and potions strapped around her waist, adjusted her backpack. After choosing the Alchemist Assassin Class, Hex had quickly discovered she had a knack – nay, a passion - for making things go boom. She had made the jump to Level 9 in record time after bringing down the tower block in which she had lived – although ‘existed’ might have been a more accurate description. It was hard to ‘live’ too carefree amongst the dealers, addicts and general detritus of humanity that had been her social circle.
If William’s heart had nurtured some pretty explosive repressed rage, it was nothing to the white-hot wrath that existed within Hex. If the part of Birmingham where she was from tended to accumlate life’s casulties, then it also gathered together more than its fair share of predators. As it turned out, there was a lot of XP in wholesale demolition – especially with the residents still inside – she had ranked up pretty damn fast.
Despite her general anger towards all things male, Hex had a particular fondness – although the emotion did not cut as deeply as that - for Mike, the burly Warrior, the only ‘friend’ from her previous life to survive her impression of Joshua at Jericho. "So," she whispered to him, "planning to bring the whole zone down on us again? Or do you only do that on special occasions?"
Mike grunted, a massive hammer resting against his shoulder. "Just stick to your potions, Hex, and leave the heavy lifting to me," he rumbled. Mike had the patience of a saint, or so his mother had liked to say. Mostly because saints were known for not throttling their friends, no matter how much they deserved it. He had been following Hex around for the day – because there was something about a girl who literally made your life go bang that he was oddly drawn to.
Floating behind the first little group, Seraph – another nome de integration - a lithe Stormcaller with eyes that glowed with otherworldly light, chuckled softly. On the journey from the Red Zone, Seraph had enjoyed watching the ongoing flirtation between Hex and Mike. It was certainly better than most of the entertainment in her previous job as . . . this is a family show, so let’s call her a ‘masseuse’. Most of her clients – at least in their last few moments as she gave new meaning to the words ‘unhappy ending’ – would probably agree. "Play nice, babes," she said, sparks of electricity dancing along her fingers. "Remember, we've got some lovely XP to collect."
Beside her – and the last member of this little homicidal party - Nye, a silent Beast Whisperer, rolled her eyes. Her shadowy panther, an entirely silent presence since it had appeared when she selected her Class, mirrored her exasperation. Nye preferred the company of her animals to this band of misfits – working at the animal park would do that. The panther, at least, didn’t argue back. She notched an arrow and tested the tension on her bowstring, her gaze fixed on the unsuspecting Amber Zone. "Just keep quiet and do your parts," she muttered. She didn't know any of these people, and she didn't particularly want to. Her animal companions were the only one she trusted. She was making quite rapid progress through the Levels. One of the features of her Class was that she shared the XP of anything that any of her bonded beasts killed. Having released every animal from its cage in the zoo she was picking up quite an impressive stream of passive XP every few minutes.
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None of these assassins felt a moment's worry about what they were about to do. Part of that, of course, was the emotional dampening. Mind you, this was helped on its way by a decent helping of personalities that were just itching for an opportunity to ‘show what they could do’ in a world that had kept them down too long. And, to be fair, a major part of their attitude to the upcoming massacre was sheer pragmatism. There were some scary fuckers in the Red Zone, and theu could see that the only way to make it through Day Two and beyond was to be strong enough to protect themselves. If that meant merking a bunch of walking bags of free XP, then . . . well, survival of the fittest and all that.
Drax raised a hand, and the group fell silent. "We hit hard; we hit fast," he said, his voice low and commanding. Exactly as he had always imagined it could have been if he hadn’t been passed over for countless promotions. "Kill who we can and get out before too many of them fight back." His eyes flicked to each of them, lingering a moment longer on Hex and Mike, who exchanged a glare but nodded. He wasn’t wild about those two knowing each other from before the integration. He worried it gave them an advantage, but they seemed happy to follow his orders thus far.
But the night was still very young.
Nods all around. They meant business, even if they didn't particularly like each other, they were far more worried about those pushing the boundaries of Level 12. They needed to close that gap as soon as possible, or they were going to end up just like the poor schmucks they were about to kill. With a final glance at each other, they moved as one, jumping over the wall of the Amber Zone with ease. The lower-level denizens inside had no idea what was coming – they did not even seem to have left anyone watching the gates.
As they moved through the shadows, Drax glanced back at Hex, who was silently mixing something in a vial as she ran. "What's that?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"Insurance," she replied with a smirk. "Just in case things get... complicated."
Drax narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He didn't trust her, but he needed her skills. For now.
Hex felt Drax's gaze and rolled her eyes. She had no intention of blowing up the team, not unless she had to. Trust wasn't exactly her strong suit, especially not with men who fancied themselves leaders. She glanced at Mike, who was scanning the area ahead. He looked like he could crush her with one hand, but she wasn't intimidated. They had known each other since they were kids. He was the only one who had looked at for her when . . . the bad things had happened. Then she looked over at Seraph. Her feelings towards that bitch were more complicated.
Seraph, for her part, could feel Hex's eyes on her and sighed inwardly. She had not time for the girl. Her magic was her shield and sword, and she trusted it more than any of these people. Her attention shifted to Nye, who was moving with infinite grace. At least that one seemed competent, if annoyingly aloof. With luck, once they’d picked off enough of these of the low levels, they’d never have to see each other again.
They had reached the giant glass and metal hot house where, presumably, the lower-level adventurers went snoozing. Drax signalled for them to spread out. "Remember," he whispered, "quick and clean. And quiet! If enough of them get their shit together, this could get difficult."
Hex vanished through the door, her movements silent and deadly. She positioned herself towards the back of the room, her eyes already assessing the most valuable targets in the sleeping forms. Mike took up a position by the main gate, ready to create a distraction with his giant hammer. He did his best to ignore the wolf whistles of the flowers who seemed very keen to make his acquaintance. Seraph moved to a high vantage point, the top of one of the giant trees, preparing her spells. Nye and her panther slipped into the underbrush, bow at the ready.
The attack, when it came, began with a sudden explosion—a small, precise detonation courtesy of Hex. Panic erupted among the lower classed refugees, and Mike seized the moment, his hammer crashing into the ground and sending shockwaves through the area. The denizens of the Amber Zone scattered in terror, their safe zone turning into chaos.
“Fucking hell, guys. I said quiet!” Drax grabbed the arm of a young man running past him – was he a Level 5? – and quickly slit his throat. The wash of XP, and no little blood, calming – a little – his anger.
Seraph unleashed a storm of lightning, targeting those who tried to organise a defence. Her spells crackled through the air, a deadly display of power which no one here was able to match. At least, not having just woken up to this chaos. Nyx's arrows flew with lethal accuracy, each shot finding its mark. Her panther leaped from the shadows, adding to the confusion and fear.
Mastering his anger at the ‘quiet’ part of the plan being so quickly abandoned, Drax moved through the chaos with practiced ease, his twin blades cutting down any who dared to stand in his way and, actually, quite a few running in blind terror. He spotted a tall Knight Errant trying to rally his comrades and dispatched him with a [Throwing Dart]. Despite it all being much louder than expected, this was going better than he had hoped. He could feel the next Level getting closer with each death.
But as the chaos continued, Drax couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The ease with which they were overpowering the safe zone's defences seemed almost too easy. Of course, they were the strongest people in the gardens, but he would still have thought someone would have given them trouble. He glanced around at his, for want of a better word, ‘team’, each of them fully engaged in the attack, and felt a pang of unease. Trusting them was a gamble, and he hated gambling with unknown odds. It was a residue of his job, he assumed.
Luck and gut instinct was not to be trusted.
Hex, amid her alchemical chaos, noticed Drax's hesitation. "Something wrong, fearless leader?" she called out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Just keep moving," Drax snapped back and then noticed something.
Just to the left of their position, down a very green hill stood an old-fashioned bandstand. But it wasn’t the structure itself that had caught his notice.
No, it was the woman stood in the middle of it. Tossing a coin.
Tossing a coin and swearing a lot.