Chapter 103: Four Questions

Mask pushed himself up to his hands and knees.

His movements looked laborious. His breath hissed through his voice changer, a constant backdrop of static.

Above all, his cloak blew with the breeze our Air generated. When it whipped far from his back, I saw the ragged hole torn in it, with dozens of other rips up and down its back. The darkness staining the dirt around him had vanished like the shadows of passing clouds.

Phantom was knocked out, stuck in whatever dormant state Bernie had been after Mask struck him down.

I had to assume the Daimon would come back at midnight, too, same as Bernie. We had hours to go until then, during which Mask would be just one ordinary Third Eye player pitted against our team.

Well. However much I hated to admit it, he was an extraordinary player.

The proof was in the fact that he kept rising. To his knees. To a crouch.

At last, with a deeper hiss, he straightened up.

He could’ve feigned his shakiness. He could’ve forced his breathing. I didn’t believe he was doing either, but I made myself ignore both, just in case.

Instead, I watched his hands.

They stayed wide, balancing him. Not darting for the phone on his chest.

As long as that remained true, I considered the fight suspended.

“Give it up, Mask.” Even though I addressed him, I meant it as much for my teammates.

This wasn’t me getting sucked into offering stupid mercy like I had the first time we fought. At least, I hoped not.

Lena and I had actually hoped to convince Mask he’d lost without taking all his HP. We had contingencies for how to deal with it if we found we needed to drop him first and talk second, but Plan A remained convincing him to go along with what we wanted because we proved ourselves the stronger force and he at least claimed to prize that.

Regardless of our plans, I’d just seen evidence that we were now playing with Third Eye forces powerful enough to endanger someone who ran out of HP. Exactly how deadly Lena’s missile was depended on how sturdy Mask's paintball vest turned out to be; I thought I saw a depression in the foam in the back as well as the front, even though Lena’s second missile must have spent some of its force knocking out Phantom.

Killing Mask would legit be far worse than losing to him. I don’t mean because of what it would do to Lena psychologically, although I sure as hell didn’t want to see her have to cope with blood on her hands. I mean because Mask was the only person who knew where Matt and Gerry were. If he died without telling us, our friends might be stranded forever, and we certainly wouldn’t find them in time to avoid becoming the primary suspects in their disappearance.

Every part of my mind – moral, ethical, tactical, practical – said I didn’t dare strike Mask if there was a chance he’d run out of HP.

Which really sucked, because I wanted nothing more than to pound the son of a bitch to within an inch of his sneering, edgelord life.

The vehemence of my own reaction shocked me. I supposed Lena wasn’t the only one pissed at him over her litany of complaints.

The shock helped calm me down. A little. When Mask turned at the sound of my footsteps, I didn’t conjure anything. I didn’t even haul off and slug him in his porcelain namesake.

I held my hand out, offering a shake, even offering to brace him if he found it as hard to stand as he seemed to.

Had he run out of HP before Lena hit him the last time? No. It wasn’t possible. He’d been conjuring objects to the last, and nothing we’d done to him should have knocked his last few HP off until the missile landed.

If only I knew how many he’d started with. He’d certainly taken more damage than any player I knew could withstand and still stay in the game for the day.

As much as he’d soaked up in the most extreme invasion reports about him?

I couldn’t be sure.

His mask tilted downwards and regarded my hand.

He didn’t take it.

His arms started to rise.

I set my jaw.

But he kept raising his arms over his head and intertwined his fingers at the back of his hood. “You’re right, OldCampaigner,” he said.

I caught myself before I could exhale with relief. “Oh?”

“Your team can beat me,” Mask said. “I didn’t expect you’d all get this strong.”

“Wasn’t easy,” Lena said.

“It’s great.” Mask glanced over his shoulder. Though it was hard to tell, I was pretty sure he was eyeing Michelle. “Ashbird is one thing. The wiki admin obviously knows a lot, and anyone could see you’re holding back on video, OldCampaigner. If you can train even a mediocre player to this level, though –”

“Hey, screw you!” Michelle snapped.

Mask's voice changer hissed with his snort. “I’m serious. It’s a good thing.”

“What does it say about you that you lost to a ‘mediocre’ player?” she asked.

“Lost?” Mask's head tilted. His fingers unlaced from behind his head.

Mine shifted on my phone.

“Want to start Round Two, OldCampaigner?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to start Round One,” I said.

He shrugged. “Then let’s make one thing clear. I said you’re strong enough that you can beat me. Not that you have.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, asshole,” Lena muttered.

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“I don’t,” Mask said.

I really wanted to look back at Lena rolling her eyes, as I knew she must be. I had to settle for the image of her in my imagination while I kept my actual eyes – Third Eye very much included – focused on Mask's hand movements.

He reached toward his chest.

I tensed.

His fingers simply felt around the caved-in portion of his vest, though, and that was on the opposite side of his body from his phone. A burst of feedback from his voice changer marked what I was pretty sure was a whistle. “I could take you if it wasn’t for that missile. What are you pumping into that, anyway, Ashbird?”

“I can’t believe you’d just stand here and chat about an attack I hit your poor Daimon with,” Lena said. “Or that you’d expect me to answer your questions when you’re still fronting that we could start up the fight again at any minute.”

Mask shook his head. “Phantom will be back tomorrow, stronger than ever. As for asking pointless questions, I’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“OldCampaign asks me a load of shit he knows I won’t answer.”

I laughed.

Mask looked at me. So did Erin and Michelle, which wasn’t great, but I stood close enough to Mask now it hopefully wouldn’t take their attention entirely off him.

Either way, I didn’t regret my laughter. For one, the bastard had a point. For another, him pushing Lena’s buttons until she restarted the fight was very close to the last thing we wanted.

For another, being able to laugh at my own foibles was part of what separated me from the assholes. Insofar as I succeeded in separating myself from them, I mean.

“Heh.” Mask shook his head. “Fine. You win. I concede.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Then you’ll answer my questions, after all?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Because if you don’t,” Lena said, “we’ll take your phone and hand you over to the cops.”

He tilted his head. “You’re gonna steal from me and then confess?”

“No!” The mud squelched beneath Lena’s feet as she advanced to where Mask and I stood. She poked her finger in his face, or at least the porcelain covering it. “I’ve seen the video! We have you on camera abducting Gerry, remember?”

“You’ve got a video of a tall guy dressed like this –” he pinched his ragged cloak. “– and of your bud disappearing into what looks like a special effect. There’s no evidence the person that looks like me did anything.”

“Unless we explain about Third Eye,” I said.

The threat of exposure had seemed to stay his hand before. When he turned my way now, though, I got the impression he wasn’t just looking down his nose because he was taller than me. “Even if some local cops believed you about the game – which they wouldn’t –, so what? You coulda just dressed me up in the same outfit as the guy in the video to act as a scapegoat for your weird cult.”

Lena flinched.

I didn’t. “If we did, how come you knew so much about what was in the video? Or did you think we weren’t recording this fight, too?”

Mask's face turned infinitesimally. I’d noticed that the more he tried to hide his body language, the more it told me. He knew he’d slipped up. After a second, he said, “Could’ve told me in advance. Even shown me your video. Entrapment and shit.”

“You sound pretty trapped right now,” I said.

“Bullshit,” Mask snapped. “You wouldn’t risk it. Maybe you convince the cops. Uh-huh, and maybe they take a closer look at who knew a bunch of people that disappeared and then skipped town.”

Erin swallowed hard. Apart from some light trespassing unrelated to our clashes with Mask, the only actually illegal thing any of us had done was her faking Matt’s email to their professor.

Thankfully, Mask wasn’t looking her way, and I was almost certain that the eyes-in-the-back-of-his-head shit he’d pulled relied on Phantom’s senses.

My own cocked eyebrow never twitched. “Maybe we’d risk it and maybe we wouldn’t. Maybe the cops would believe us, or maybe they’d believe you. Maybe they’d lock us all up. No matter what, they’d hold you for questioning.”

Mask almost hid the way his back tightened.

Almost.

“You’re so obsessed with getting stronger,” I said. “Are you really okay with losing days or weeks of grinding, even if you’re ultimately released?”

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

I softened my voice. “We just want to talk, man. That’s got to be better than the alternative, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

I blinked. “You’ll answer our questions?”

“Four of them,” he said.

“You’re in no position to give us an ultimatum,” Michelle said.

He shrugged. “Four players, four questions.”

I exchanged glances with the team.

Haltingly, we all nodded.

“Where did you take our friends?” Erin asked. “Please, tell us!”

“I took them through my Realm,” Mask said.

Erin bowed her head. “Thank you.”

Mask snorted.

I thought he might find it less amusing if he realized he’d said something that would sound an awful lot like a confession to a cop who’d been clued in to Third Eye. I didn’t plan on pointing that out until we’d exhausted our questions, though.

“That doesn’t tell us anything!” Michelle said. “Where is your realm?”

Mask hesitated. I didn’t get so much as a hint from his body language. Maybe he was formulating an answer to serve his interests, but I got the impression she’d legit thrown him for a loop.

“You promised each of us an answer,” she said.

Mask's gloves creaked as his fingers curled into fists. “I got there from Philly, but... whatever. Try and get to it if you want.”

“A real answer would come with an address,” Michelle said.

He raised his hand, his dominant hand, the one he used to work his phone. His three eyeholes lined up with my gaze. “Want me to Discord her, OldCampaigner?”

“It’s none of my business,” I said. “Now, if you’re the kind of person who promises four answers and bails on the last two, that’s also useful information.”

His hand twitched in annoyance. Slowly, he unclipped the phone and tapped something out with his index finger. I knew from trying to text with winter gloves that it wouldn’t work if they were thick all the way through. Sure enough, when I looked closely at his fingertips, I saw that the leather gave way to a thin, stretchy material.

Michelle’s phone bleeped. Her eyes flickered to it.

Mine never left Mask.

“It’s an address,” she said. “No idea what it means, or if he’s being honest.”

“Why lie?” he asked. “It won’t help you.”

Did that mean the path to his Realm had closed, as Lena’s seemed to have, rather than remaining open like Miguel’s or the massive tree we’d found in the Black Forest? If so, could Lena get back to hers? Would she need a Key of her own?

None of those were questions I was going to burn up our total with.

Instead, I asked, “Why are you capturing people?”

“Cute,” Mask said. “Still fishing for a confession?”

I waited, eyebrow raised.

After a moment, Mask said, “I go after strong players because they’re the ones with the techniques I need.”

Lena pushed her finger into his armored chest. “Why don’t you just ask?”

Mask looked down at her. I supposed he couldn’t help it, since he was at least a foot taller, but it still annoyed me.

“I don’t know, Ashbird,” he said. “Why didn’t I see those missiles of yours in your PVP tutorial?”

“Ha! So you admit you’re secretly a fan!” Lena started to toss her hair, but then Mask's words sank in. Her shoulders slumped.

“Why are you teaching your fans techniques you ditched weeks ago? Why doesn’t OldCampaigner show almost anything on video? Why does your ‘wiki team’ get every discovery weeks before it shows up on the actual wiki? Why do you post false results to hide who actually collected the finds on your trip?” Mask's voice rose, turned screechy as his voice changer struggled to keep up. “Why haven’t you told anyone this shit is real?”

Erin and Michelle averted their eyes. Lena staggered back, hit harder than if he’d whipped out an explosion of Fire.

I cradled her waist when she backed up beside me. “That’s enough, Mask!”

“Yeah,” he said. “Is. You got your questions.”

His hand shifted on his phone.

“Don’t!” I shouted.

He did.

The ground darkened at his feet and he sank into it just like Gerry had.

But unlike Gerry, Mask was close enough for me to fling myself at.