Any good mystery investigation worth its weight in story should be dark and gritty, with near-empty streets and crime threatening to rear its ugly head around the next corner. Aaron sneered at the bright sunlight that tried to break past the dark, round glass shields protecting the dwarf’s eyes. Cars zoomed by the streets, and people bustled about with their busy, self-important lives. It was such a bright, normal day that it made the dwarf sick. Not even his shades could make this a proper noir-colored day. Aaron growled as he walked down the sidewalk, wishing he could be in the shade from the buildings on the other side of the road.
“So, where are we going, buddy?” Tommy asked as he caught up to the dwarf.
“Gotta contact a contact.”
“You got contacts?”
Aaron glanced back and up at the large elf but only saw the portion of bare chest that shined in the sun through the open, sleeveless leather jacket. The sun posed too much of a threat to try and see any further up, so Aaron pressed forward, “Yeah.”
“What kind of contacts you got?”
“The kind I need for this moment.” Aaron stopped walking as we waited with the crowd for the crosswalk signal to indicate they could move.
“You know, I got contacts, too. Maybe some of my guys can help?”
“Thanks, but no thanks, Tommy. I don’t use the Alpha Numeros for this sort of gig.”
“Come on, man. They’re not all bad.”
The crosswalk signal changed, and Aaron continued forward with the crowd. “Look, I know you joined the gang because it was your only choice to survive these streets. I’m never gonna hold that against you. But those jokers don’t like me, and I don’t trust any of them.”
“Buddy, I think I’m the only person in this city that likes you,” Tommy laughed. “And trust me, you don’t make that an easy thing to do.”
Aaron grunted a response as he turned down an alley. It felt good to finally be in some shade. Toward the end of the alley was a small group of woodland elves. At least, that was their heritage. Aaron was sure most of them had forgotten about their lineage due to having lived in and around concrete and asphalt for generations. The old elves, the ones who struggled to preserve the ways of the woods, said that the younger generation was becoming brittle and easily broken. Those old elves worried their saplings were dying by petrification in this jungle of artificial stone.
“Oi! What have we here, loves?” One of the young elves exclaimed. “A-a-ron the Frimslaya, vet’ran ‘acka extraordinaire, is that yu?”
“You know it’s me, Corey,” The dwarf responded with both hands buried deep in the trenchcoat pockets.
“Rock and stone, cuz! That’s ‘ow yu lot say it, right?” Corey, the sapling born from concrete, laughed. The sound was like a glitched trill, high in his throat, that repeated a few short sounds in rapid succession, over and over again. Aaron felt it was almost as bad to his ears as the sunlight was to his eyes.
“And oo’s that wit’ yu’s, eh?” Corey jumped off his crates and made a show of looking around Aaron, though that wasn’t really necessary. “As I live and breathe, mates! Look oo’s showin’ ‘is good graces—Tommy the Fishin’ elf! King of the Lost Islands, ‘e is!”
“What’s up, Corey?” Tommy nodded with folded arms.
“Nothin’ yor ‘evy-‘anded Kingship. Ain’t seen yu in these parts for a blink. Yu lookin’ to break free ‘o the Alphas?”
“Nah, just getting some help from an old friend.”
“Right, right. Well, the Boomas always be willing to take another elf, mate. Yu says the word, and I’ll sees yu got a right special place in the gang.”
“I need a boost, Corey.” The dwarf’s interruption caused both Tommy and Corey to look at Aaron in surprise. However, it was the smaller of the two elves who responded.
“Yu need a boost, mate? Ain’t it a little early in the day to be hitting that?”
“I didn’t come for your questions, Corey. I came to get what you’re good for,” Aaron said, then looked back at Tommy. “And don’t gimme any shit about it because this is not the same thing as the shit you asked me to quit.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Corey exclaimed with hands in the air. “You’re quittin’ the shit, Frimslaya? The dust, the kilz, all ‘o it?”
“Yeah, Corey,” Aaron took his hands out of his pockets and held them out wide. “I quit this morning.”
Corey laughed again, and Aaron’s frown lines etched deeper in his face.
“It’s a shame, mate. Yu’ve always been one o’ me best customers.” Corey rubbed his chin while rocking on the balls of his feet. “Bein’ a regula, yu knows I let yu run up a tab. But seein’ yu ain’t a regula no more, I can’t rightly keep runnin’ that tab, mate.”
Aaron scowled up at Tommy, who stepped forward. The island elf was easily three times the size of the once-woodland elf and probably had five times the strength. The other woodland elves in the background stopped messing around and took steps forward, rolling shoulders and playing with small knives. Tommy looked only at Corey and gently asked, “How much is the tab?”
“Oi, Tommy! I loves yu, brotha.” Corey gave Tommy a quick pat on the arm. “But good, clean Mista Frimslaya ‘ere ‘as racked up a real tally. It’s not right puttin’ that burden on yu’s.”
“How much?”
“More than yu’s can offer, mate. Besides, I ain’t got no green leaf to deal wit the Alphas. No offense, but I ain’t about to risk me neck for the likes of this.” Corey turned back to Aaron. “I can’t get yu’s a boost, mate—it ain’t happenin’.”
“Corey, I need that boost, man.”
Corey began to walk back to his crew. He spoke with arms out wide, “I need me greens and golds, mate. No monies, no boost.”
As Corey returned to his crew, Aaron cursed at the skinny little elf under his breath. The other elves went back to playing their games, rolling dice and performing knife tricks, exchanging pieces of gold, hard cash as they won or lost their bets. The dwarf smiled as an idea crossed his mind. “Hey, Corey, how about I place a bet.”
The elf’s pointed ears perked up, and he turned back to approach Aaron, “You want to place a bet, mate?”
“Yeah, I want to make a bet.”
Corey rubbed his chin in contemplation as he looked between his crew and the dwarf. The other elves took pause to hear what was going on.
“And what about that tab, mate? I dunno. It wouldna be right ‘o me to indulge yu’s like that, now would it?”
Tommy shuffled his feet. He seemed to be unsure of Aaron’s intentions, too. But the large, bronze elf remained stalwart and listened.
Aaron maintained his smile. “Gimme the boost, and I’ll get you enough money to pay for it.”
Corey frowned.
“Enough money to pay for the boost and a little extra.”
“This ain’t much of a gamble, mate.”
“Come on, if I win, you get your money back—”
“And if yu’s don’t win, I’m still out a boost, mate. Now, I ain’t no card shark, but I know better than to gamble in something where I only lose. Sweeten the deal for me, Frimslaya.”
Tommy pulled out a large pair of brass knuckles from his jacket pockets and held them out for Corey, “Will these sweeten the deal?”
Aaron looked up at Tommy in surprise, “Where did you get those?”
“Collected them off one of our deliveries. The enchantments are faded, but they fit so nice; our guy said I could keep them.”
Corey whistled loudly. “Bookie!”
One of the elves from the back hopped up and retrieved the brass knuckles from Tommy. Corey smiled, “Bookie ‘ere will check yu’s merch and its enchantment. But that’s only meeting me ‘alfway at best. What else yu’s got?”
Aaron growled as he pulled his revolver from his trenchcoat.
“What the ‘ells, Aron! ‘Ow’d yu’s fit that ‘andcannon in that coat ‘o yu’s?”
“Will this meet you the rest of the way?”
Corey took the long revolver and eyed it carefully before nodding. “Aye, I think this is enuff for a level six.”
“It’s enough for a twelve, Corey.” Aaron was firm in his tone.
“Twelve!” Corey seemed genuinely surprised as he handed the revolver to Bookie. “Why in the bloody sewa’s would yu’s think I got me a twelve?”
“You give me a level twelve boost, Corey, or the deal’s off.”
Corey again rubbed his chin, and the tips of his ears twitched as he thought hard about the offer. Bookie, who looked like he was holding a candleless séance over the brass knuckles and revolver, suddenly looked up at Corey and gave the lead elf a thumbs up. Corey smiled, “Looks like yu’s in luck, mate. I ‘appen to ‘ave the last twelve in the back.”
“Great.” Aaron’s voice was mirthless. He knew the price of using boosters. Boosts were considered illegal by all accounts. They were like performance-enhancing drugs but were not really drugs. Ever since the System came to be, everyone had tried to find ways to hack the system and get more out of it. The Hero’s Die, a unique bonus built into the System, felt like a built-in hack as it provided a ridiculous bonus when used—but once it was used, the cooldown was ridiculously long and left one feeling vulnerable throughout the cooldown. Besides, Aaron swore off using the Hero’s Die after the war and felt no inclination to break that promise to himself. That’s why he turned to the boost. The boost was an injection that allowed for an extra dice to be rolled with whatever skill you used at the time. It became outlawed when a bunch of athletes started dying shortly after winning their various metes. Unlike the Hero’s Die, the price for using a booster was one of your Moxie, and losing Moxie was something you had to be careful of.
“‘Ere you go, mate,” Corey smiled as he presented the hypodermic in both hands. “One level twelve, specially for you, Frimslaya.”
Aaron took off his trench and laid it carefully on the ground. Then, he removed his fedora and placed it on the trenchcoat. He rolled his right sleeve past his elbow and squeezed his fist, watching his dwarven forearm flex with the contractions. He examined the veins that gently bulged from the flexion.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Tommy leaned in and whispered, “You sure you want to do this, buddy?”
“I’ll be alright, Tommy,” Aaron rolled his fist while bending and flexing his elbow. “I’ve got full Moxie right now. I can take the hit.”
“I don’t like it, Aaron. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Relax, Tommy. Just watch my back.” Aaron motioned Corey to hand over the boost.
“Yu’s got ‘til the boost is out, mate. I’ve got to sees the monies in me accounts or yu’s lose, mates.”
“I’ll make a new account for you, Corey.” Aaron flexed his forearm one more time before deciding on a vein to hit. “That way, you can withdraw and not be so easily traced.”
“Sees that! That’s why’s I likes yu’s, Frimslaya. Always thinkin’ a step ahead yu’s are.”
Aaron manipulated the hypodermic with one hand, then pushed the needle and felt the familiar bite that came with these sorts of transactions. Aaron pulled the plunger back slightly and saw a flash of blood in the syringe. Satisfied with the confirmation, Aaron pushed the plunger and forced himself to enjoy the burn rushing through his arm from the level twelve boost.
Aaron withdrew the needle and handed it back to Corey. The elf smiled as he retrieved the hypodermic, “Tick, tock, boyo.”
Aaron could feel the boost making its way through his body, poking and prodding at his brain, testing an infusion with his heart, ready and waiting to latch onto the first skill that he would activate. Aaron opened his Hacklet and activated his Hacking skill.
Aaron – Hacking skill ( + Level 12 Boost) 13 vs. Normal DT – Exceptional SUCCESS (+1 Modifier awarded)
Aaron blazed through the lines of code that raced across the open screen of his Hacklet. He needed to locate and hack a MIST database, and hope it had the location of a hard-wired hub that he could jack into. Then, he needed to move money from some account and ensure it ended up in Corey’s possession. It would have been impossible without the twelve.
Aaron – Hacking skill +1 ( + Level 12 Boost) 12 vs. Hard DT – SUCCESS
Another problem with boosts was their unreliability. You never knew when they would quit working on you. It was another reason for Aaron to move fast.
“Yu’s think the dwarf is gonna do it?”
Tommy shrugged in response, watching the other elves, and either end of the alley.
Aaron – Hacking skill ( + Level 12 Boost) 20 vs. Very Hard DT – Exceptional SUCCESS (+1 Modifier awarded)
The dwarf smiled as the third-tier encryption melted away and more lines of code raced by. There! A corporate safehouse in the upper end of the city. It had an isolated landline that wasn’t accessible on the wireless network. Just the hub Aaron needed—pinning the location now.
“Hey, you! All of you!”
Aaron didn’t recognize the voice, but it was too authoritarian to be anything good.
“Bloody wood shits!” Corey exclaimed under his breath. “It’s the fuzz. Yu’s time’s up, mate.”
“Our time is not up,” Tommy stepped in, motioning Corey to step back. “You stay here. I’ll handle this.”
“Big, bronze motha fucka like yu’s gonna handle the fuzz?” Corey laughed. “Donna make me laugh, cuz. Them coppas more likely to shoots yu’s then be friends with ya’s.”
Aaron – Hacking skill +1 ( + Level 12 Boost) 8 vs. Normal DT – SUCCESS
“I know you can hear me!” The voice was closer now.
Aaron quickly set up a temp account for Corey while running background code to search for easy money that could drain into the account. The dwarf smiled at their tenuous predicament. “I ain’t afraid of cops. I was raised to spit every time I saw one.”
“What?” Corey looked at Aaron in confusion.
“Don’t mind him,” Tommy interjected. “He’s just quoting movies. Watch him while I distract the cop.”
Tommy left as Aaron continued to plug away at his Hacklet. He was already in the MIST network, and an account was linked to the safe house. It certainly wasn’t the dwarf’s first choice for siphoning money, but he couldn’t afford the luxury of time. He started the siphon code and watched the corporate MIST money steadily drain into Corey’s temp account.
Aaron – Hacking skill ( + Level 12 Boost) 17 vs. Hard DT – Exceptional SUCCESS (+1 Modifier awarded)
“Are you threatening me?” The voice did not sound handled. “Dispatch, I’ve got multiple 10-66 on the corner of…”
“That’s fresh fuzz o’re there, mate,” Corey whispered to Aaron. “Stinkin’ like the ol’ fuzz school. ‘E ain’t even getting’ ‘is coppa codes right.”
“I’m concentrating here, Corey,” Aaron snapped back, not taking his eyes off the code that scrolled across his Hacklet.
“I just asked how you’re doing,” Tommy said.
“I’ve got a 10-50 here, and, and –Back up! Right now! Hands where I can see them!”
“Where’s your senior officer?” Tommy asked cooly as he raised his hands to shoulder level.
Aaron – Hacking skill +1 ( + Level 12 Boost) 13 vs. Very Hard DT – SUCCESS Infiltration efforts suspected. Hacking detection efforts have been initiated.
“What in Hells?” Aaron had only been having successes and did not know how he was caught… unless it was a high-level background protocol scanning for anomalies. If it was a high enough level, there was a chance that Aaron didn’t detect the background AI. It was time to cut the siphon code and hand Corey his money.
Aaron (Hacking) vs. Security Protocol – 18 vs. 22 Aaron FAILS – 1 Mental Moxie strike inflicted Hacking attempts detected!
“Shitanium!” Aaron pulled his eyes away from the screen and looked at Corey. “Gimme your phone.”
“That’s not ‘ow this relationship works, mate. Yu’s and I, we don’t chat on the phones.”
“Code thirty! We have a code—”
The voice of fresh fuzz halted suddenly, and Tommy turned to approach Corey and Aaron. Tommy shrugged. “He didn’t want to talk.”
Corey jumped up. “Burnin’ tree-fucka! What’d yu’s do, Tommy?”
Tommy shrugged again. “We probably ought to wrap this up.”
“Yu’s thinkin’ it’s time to wrap it up? After yu’s done popped that fuzzy cherry o’er there?”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Corey, your phone,” Aaron interrupted. “You want your money? Give me the phone now.”
“Yu’s gonna put the monies on me phone?”
“—Officer McGrady, come in—” A voice crackled over the cop’s radio.
“Can they hear us?” Asked Tommy.
“Bloody, burning forests!”
“Corey, your phone now, or the deal’s off!”
“Ten bloody forests and the sweet fuckin’ spirit of the woods.” Corey tossed his phone into Aaron’s lap, then turned to his crew. “Wrap it up tight, boyos! Jackie, make an exit!”
Jackie hopped up and started an incantation while the rest of the crew gathered up their paraphernalia.
Aaron tapped Corey’s phone on his open Hacklet, activating an NFC link and connecting the temp account for Corey. A migraine threatened to creep into Aaron’s brain as Bookie approached with the gun and knuckles.
“Times past gone, mates,” Corey announced as Jackie’s portal began to open.
Aaron tossed the phone back to Corey. The dwarf couldn’t cut the siphon code, and monies continued to pour into the account at a steady rate. Corey’s eyes widened in excitement as Aaron warned, “A security protocol jammed the siphon code. Take the money, then cut the account. MIST will find you if you don’t cut the account.”
“’Oly Mother of Wood! I can’t believe you did it, Frimslaya.” Corey motioned to Bookie, still watching the climbing numbers in the hacked account.
“Corey,” Aaron warned as he retrieved his revolver from Bookie and closed his Hacklet. “I’m serious. Don’t wait for that stuff to stop climbing. Take the monies and run. Consider that account compromised.”
“Sure, sure, mate.”
“What in the Gods’ names!”
This was a new voice at the mouth of the alley that carried a heavy Nordic accent—it was another, bigger cop, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and food in the other. Tommy smiled, “There’s his senior officer.”
Corey patted Tommy on the arm with one hand and Aaron on the shoulder with his other hand, “Cheers, mates.”
Each of Corey’s crew quickly jumped through Jackie’s portal. Tommy and Aaron followed but were stopped at the entry by Corey’s outstretched hand. “Sorry, mates. We’s ain’t got room for the two o’ ya’s.”
With a salute, Corey dove through the portal, which promptly closed behind him.
“Hands up, you two!” The sound of a handgun locking and loading clicked quickly behind Aaron and Tommy. With frustrated sighs, the large elf and stout dwarf raised their hands and turned around.
“By Odin’s one eye. Tommy?” The cop asked from behind his handgun sights.
“Hey, Officer Gundar,” Tommy casually waved while keeping his hands at shoulder height.
“What on Hel’s cold tits are you doing in this part of town, you big elf?” Officer Gundar laughed as he uncocked and holstered his weapon.
Tommy relaxed and smiled, “Just trying to get some help from an old friend, sir.”
Gundar sighed and shook his head while looking down at the dwarf. “Well, at least you’re not publicly intoxicated again, Frimslayer.”
“Yeah, too bad you can’t arrest me again, Officer.” Aaron’s response did not carry levity as he stared hard up at the cop through his dark, round sunglasses.
“This guy,” Gundar chuckled, pointing a thumb at Aaron. “A few thousand years and still, dwarves only ever think about drinking. At some point, you need to move past your heritage.”
“Yeah, well, I quit. So much for heritage.”
“Really?” Gundar looked at Tommy in surprise.
“Really. Ain’t touched a lick since this morning.”
Gundar laughed long and wholeheartedly. “Well, good job with the little steps, dwarf. Hopefully, you can make it the rest of the day. Eh, excuse me.”
Gundar turned away from Tommy and Aaron as he addressed dispatch over his radio, telling them the situation was under control and the young officer had disobeyed orders. Aaron nudged Tommy and spoke quietly. “I’ve got an address. We need to move before more cops show up.”
“Gundar’s one of the good ones, buddy.”
“Never trust a good cop. They always go straight when you least expect it.”
“Alright, boys,” Gundar said, returning to Tommy and Aaron. “I got a couple more of my blue boys on their way here, along with a bus for MacLeary (just for protocol; I’m sure he’s fine). In the meantime, I suggest you two get out of here before my boys show up. I don’t feel like dealing with the paperwork that your presence will bring.”
“Thanks, Officer Gundar,” Tommy said.
“Forget about it.” Gundar turned to Aaron. “And you, dwarf. Make sure to keep your nose clean and the bottle wet. I’d hate to hear you couldn’t hack a full twenty-four hours.”
“Yeah, whatever, Nord,” Aaron waved off the cop. “I’ll try to stay out of your sight.”
“I’m serious, Aaron. I’m rooting for you. I hope you can stick with being clean today.”
Aaron remained stone-faced. “Come on, Tommy. We got a ride to catch.”
As Aaron walked away, keeping hands deep in his trench pockets, Tommy quickly followed and waved farewell to Gundar. “See you around, Officer. Thanks for the help.”
“Stay ahead of Loki, my friend.”
The duo quickly left the alley and hailed a cab. A small goblin in the driver seat with a booster seat underneath and stilts for the pedals rolled up to the curb. The goblin smiled a wide, toothy grin that was meant to be inviting, though goblin dentistry rarely provided a welcome invitation. Aaron and Tommy got into the back of the taxi. The short green creature’s shrill voice spat out something in the goblin tongue before looking back and shifting to the common language, “Where’s me’s takin’ a yu’s guys?”
Aaron showed the goblin an address, which prompted another goblinesh exclamation. As the cab rolled out, police lights and an ambulance raced by with their sirens blaring. Aaron rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the migraine that loomed in the back of his brain.
“How you holding up, buddy?” Tommy asked. The large elf filled the entire half of the back seat and barely had room to move. But he smiled and showed genuine concern for his friend—the cramped space did not seem to bother him at all.
“I got a mental Moxie strike from that booster,” Aaron responded with his eyes closed and head laid back. “Just trying to not let its effects get to me.”
“It’s not a good idea to mess with that stuff, brother. I’ve seen what happens when people lose all their Moxie.”
Aaron had seen what happened when people had received too many Moxie strikes, too. Moxie determined your connection to the System. Full Moxie meant you did not have any strikes, and you had a healthy connection to the System. However, certain things could damage your connection with the System, and these damages were seen as Moxie strikes.
“The Mad Mages. A lot of people died from the strikes those mages delivered, and those who didn’t die were like zombies.”
“I remember what the war was like, Tommy.”
“I promised to take care of you, Aaron. I don’t want you to end up like those who didn’t make it.”
Aaron grunted a response. In his mind, though, he thought about the war and couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t really over. Just because you come home and get out of the service doesn’t mean the war has ended—it just means you’ve been left for the waiting dead.
The cabby exclaimed something in its native tongue as the taxi swerved, cut into a lane, and then quickly veered down a turn.
“So, where are we going?” Tommy asked while looking out his own window.
“It’s a type of safe house for MIST techs who need to stay out of the press,” Aaron adjusted his small, dark shades while looking at the top display of his Hacklet. He was tracking where the taxi was taking them, and Aaron was surprised to see that the cabby had not taken the long route. “There’s a hard line in the house. I can use it as a backdoor entrance to the MIST network and find the real story about these Latino party hats. With that data, we should be able to figure out where your gnome has gone off to.”
Tommy hummed acknowledgment and continued to look out his window. Aaron closed his eyes and enjoyed the accompanying darkness. He searched his brain for the last particles of dust, hoping to get one last trace of the high that was fading from his mind.