Volume 1 - Chapter 7

Wandering

After talking with the other player, I knew for certain this was going to be a dangerous world.

I would need the ability to protect myself before hitting level three, otherwise I was going to die quickly thereafter.

My lead over the other players had quickly vanished because I was spending too much time lingering on the details without actually taking advantage of them.

On the other hand, I was enjoying this wonderfully detailed city, and I was more of a long-game player. The ending would likely be far more enjoyable if I took my time.

Even though Grimsborough Heights was broken and corrupted, I could admire the designers for their hard work. It truly felt like an old city being ruled by ruthless mobsters and some dark underbelly full of fangs I hadn't run into yet.

Walking further down Whitaker in the dead of night, it took a while to find the place I was looking for.

I squinted up at the faded sign above a locked door, and I could see hand-painted lettering within a dark frame that told me I was in the right place.

Samuel Donovan, Private Investigations

1128 Whitaker Street

This had to be the location mentioned in the letter I had. It was 1128 Whitaker Street.

A quick glance at my wristwatch informed me it was 4:15 a.m. The street was deserted. I hadn't seen a car in motion since the police officer drove away with Sadler in the backseat.

Stalvek Dyomin had bragged about finishing another mission. He had a bold personality. If I wasn't careful, I might end up on the wrong side of his threatening words.

I wasn't looking forward to the potential of running into him again. He would kill me. The only solution to that problem was for me to get myself in gear and level up, that way when or if we ran across each other again he wouldn't be able to.

When the game first started I was clearly ahead of the curve. It had taken a turn in the opposite direction.

This was in part because I wanted to explore and actually know what I was doing. That meant doing the only mission that made sense at night. Peering through the grimy window, I cupped my hands against the glass.

The office inside was pitch black, and I knew I had made a poor choice in looking for the place at this late hour. The clue had been provided to me when Raymond mentioned The Eastern Club, where The Greenies hung out after hours.

Samuel Donovan was probably there, and I could have skipped having to wait until business tomorrow. Stalvek had latched onto a similar clue early, which allowed him to get quick experience.

Oh, well.

I turned, retracing my steps down the cracked sidewalk. Despite the time of night, a few establishments still had their lights burning.

There was a ramshackle bar with peeling paint on the sign and a dimly lit pawnshop with an array of items displayed inside.

Some of the things on the shelves looked potentially useful, but I wasn't in a hurry to spend all my money. That could wait until later. Thanks to time spent exploring, I knew where I could buy things.

I passed a few NPCs that looked homeless. I gave them a wide berth, not wanting to be dragged into a long conversation.

As I trudged along, fatigue weighed on me like a heavy coat. My calves burned, and my feet throbbed in protest from all the aimless wandering I had done.

A few times I had to stifle a yawn, blinking rapidly to keep my eyes from drifting shut. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so utterly drained, physically and mentally.

This game felt like real life, and I was fatigued without any visual meter or bar to represent it. Doing things would drain my energy. It was good to know that before it got me into a situation where I might die unless I had plenty of energy.

The looming silhouette of Hollow Court Apartments finally came into view. I picked up the pace, driven by the promise of sleep. After I entered, Raymond gave me a curt nod of acknowledgment from his post beside the doors.

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"Walk off all that poison in you, Mr. Jones?”

I mustered a thin smile, too depleted to offer more than a half-hearted shrug. "Something like that."

Raymond laughed. It was a quick and easy exchange of words this time.

I made a beeline for the stairs, leaving Raymond to his lonely vigil. Up three floors and finally I was back in the sanctuary of my tiny apartment.

I didn't bother with any kind of lights as I kicked off my boots. With a groan of relief, I fell to the thin mattress.

It was more comfortable than I imagined it to be, or maybe I was more exhausted than I thought.

The last time I looked at my watch before sleeping, it was 5:35 a.m. I had spent about four hours inside the game world, and I hadn't even made it to level one.

Oh, well. Beating myself up about slow progress could wait until I woke up.

Right then I needed an escape into the blissful oblivion of sleep, if only for a few hours.

Darkness hit me and then I seemed to wake up just as quickly.

For a disorienting moment, I didn't know where I was.

My dimly lit room with its peeling wallpaper and bare furnishings slowly came into focus. I nearly forgot I was participating in a simulation. It felt just like waking up for real.

A quick glance at my wristwatch showed me it was just after 10:20 a.m.

Getting less than five hours of sleep wasn't good, but it would have to do. There was a mission to complete, and I was already lagging way behind.

When I moved to get up, I felt like I had been hit by a truck.

Every muscle ached and my eyes burned with fatigue. A dull throbbing had taken up residence behind my temples.

As I sat up, my stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl. I realized suddenly that I hadn't eaten anything since before I first woke up in this 1920s virtual reality.

It was my understanding that in the real world I had intravenous tubes running into my mouth. Whenever I ate foods in the game, my simulation pod pumped nutrient dense liquid into me.

I wondered how often nurses or lowly lab techs had to clean up the mess that came out my other end, or if I would feel that in the game world.

With a weary sigh, I got myself to my feet and made my way over to the dresser, pulling open the drawers. I rifled through my meager belongings again, just in case I missed anything previously.

It was exactly as I remembered the first time. Nothing new came to my attention.

A quick check of my character profile yielded no information on hunger or stamina meters. Was it going to be like real life then? I just needed to rely on my intuition when I needed to eat? Or had I simply not unlocked that yet?

Either way, the gnawing emptiness in my gut left no doubt in my mind. I needed food and I needed it soon.

I wanted something more substantial than the empty calories from whisky. The old me in this game might have been drinking too much, but I wouldn't.

After rinsing my face off, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the cracked mirror above my bathroom sink. I was looking rough.

I figured maybe it was the video game developers way of making me fit into the world. All the humans I had seen look rough and tired.

The vampires looked elegant and regal in the introductory video, and even the ones I had seen standing outside Shulberry Red Light glowed something more attractive than regular humans.

This type of stereotypical look for vampires had always bothered me, and it was probably why I didn't like most modern forms of vampire entertainment.

My eyes were sunken, with deep purple half-moons darkening the thin skin below them. A couple days' worth of scruff covered my jaw and I hoped my beard didn't grow.

If the simulation was aiming for realism, it had perfectly nailed the 'guy who hadn't slept in a long time' look.

Shaving was one of my least favorite activities to do in the real world. If I needed to shave in New Horizon City, hopefully I could just go to a barber.

With a resigned shake of my head, I put on my boots and headed for the door. It was time to go hunting for some food, and hopefully some experience.

I stepped out of my cramped apartment and into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me with a creak. The musty smell of mildew and cigarette smoke hung thick in the air, assaulting my senses.

It was just another delightful aspect of starting out my new life inside a game like this, at my character's lowest point.

I reached the lobby in no time at all. On the first floor at the front door was a different NPC.

Claude was a contrast to Raymond's gruff night shift counterpart. There was something about the way he carried himself that inspired an odd sense of ease and optimism.

I learned my lesson with Raymond, and I had already decided not to get caught up in a lengthy, unnecessary conversation. If the NPC had something important to share with me, they would.

"Morning Claude," I called out with a friendly wave.

If we had known each other for months, then this was normal behavior. Maybe it was the weariness muddling my brain, or just this whole bizarre situation eroding my grip, but feigning familiarity seemed like the path of least resistance.

The older man's face crinkled into a warm smile, with no hint of surprise at my casual greeting.

"Well hey there, Mr. Jones. Good morning, sir."

He spoke with the same easygoing demeanor, like we were just old pals shooting the breeze.

I decided to ask one question. I was hungry and Claude probably knew where I could find something good to eat.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know of a good diner, would you?"

Keeping my tone light, I was cautious about prying too much. This was meant to be a quick conversation.

Claude stroked his chin, pondering my question for a few seconds. "Well now, I reckon there's a little one just down the street that'd fit the bill. Emma's Kitchen, I think it's called? Cheap as they come, but the food'll stick to your ribs for sure."

"Sounds like just the ticket. Thanks, Claude."

The NPC gave me a friendly wave. The moment I crossed the threshold, I was hit with a ton of sounds. Horns honked, tires screeched, and people shouted across the streets at one another.

It was a huge contrast with the quiet stillness of the night.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of exhaust fumes mixed with oven-fresh bread from a nearby bakery. The sun was shining overhead, casting long shadows on the pavement.

I squinted against the glare, taking in the bustling scene before me. Men in suits and fedoras hurried down the sidewalk, briefcases in hand. Women in flapper dresses and feathered headbands chattered excitedly as they window shopped.

This was it. This was the real beginning.

I took a few tentative steps forward, feeling the weight of the virtual world pressing down on me. It was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.