White hot tingling rushed into my cheeks, anger knotted my chest, and I worked very hard to keep what little cool I had. “What the shell is wrong with you? You’re torturing and killing people now? And for what? An empire of pixels? An artificial universe? A pay-to-play paradise? I knew you were a loser, but this… there are no words for this.”

  “You’re wrong.” Nate—Icarus—straightened up. “You’re jealous. In this world, you’re nothin’, and I’m a god.”

  “No, Nate.” I looked him up and down. “You’re just a mallard-flocking bird.”

  He stood there, unmoving, scowling at me. Nate had always been lazy and underachieving, but I’d never realized he was also a psychopath. As soon as I got out of this stupid game, I’d make sure he went to prison for the rest of his life. And I’d smack him around a bit, too, just for good measure.

  “Well, this bird has got you and your friends locked down, Erik—or should I say, Mr. Shaw.” Nate cast sneers at all of us. “You’re at my mercy, of which I have precious little remaining. So if you’re done flappin’ your gums at me, I’ll take that WHIM now.”

  Sync stopped typing in her WHIM the instant he turned to face her. I glanced back at the Godfeather again, but he just sat there, watching all of it, puffing away on his cigar. Whatever Sync was doing, he’d seen it all, and he either didn’t care or believed she wouldn’t succeed. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Hand it over, dollface,” Nate told her.

  “More like owlface,” I muttered.

  Nate turned back. “I’m about to cut your little girlfriend’s arm off, and you’re makin’ jokes? Really?”

  I noticed Sync nodding at me vigorously. Another signal. Did she… did she want me to keep making fun of her? I mean, I had ammo for days if that’s what she wanted, but how would that make any sense at all?

  The idea tickled me, though, so I tried it anyway.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Nate continued. “You always were a pretentious little—”

  “Bro, have you seen her face? Compared to how she looked before?” I scoffed. “C’mon, dude. She’s an abomination now. It’s like someone threw bird-flavored acid on her face, only worse.”

  Sync scowled at me, but she was still nodding, still typing in her WHIM.

  I shrugged. Whatever. I guess this is what we’re doing now.

  Nate tilted his head at me then gave her another glance, but she stopped typing just in time. He turned back to me, and Sync began typing and nodding again. Her scowl persisted.

  “You’re a cold-hearted buzzard, you know that?” he said.

  “Just being honest. You know I don’t sugarcoat my opinions. Never have.” I wish it weren’t as easy to keep going, but it wasn’t hard at all. “I’m surprised you didn’t shoot her in the face instead. Would’ve been an improvement.”

  “Well, as fun as this has been, it’s time to get back to work.”

  When Nate began to turn back again, I knew that though I had endless insults for Sync’s current unfortunate appearance, it wouldn’t keep him occupied.

  And maybe that’s what she needed from me—a distraction? More time so she could do her hacking magic? It had to be something like that, so I bit back my pride and swung for the fences.

  “Lucretia’s really been a cancer on us boys in here, hasn’t she?” I quipped.

  That got his attention. He didn’t just turn his head this time—he faced me with his entire body, drawing in slow, menacing breaths.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “What… what did you just say?”

  It was a low blow—the lowest blow—and he and I both knew it.

  “It’s like watching a car crashing in real-time, isn’t it?” I continued.

  That one… that one hurt me, too, but it had to be done.

  Sync kept typing. I had to buy her more time.

  Nate tensed. His voice lowered, slowed, and he lost his stupid New Jersey accent. “And you say I’m the sick one?”

  “You got me.” I held up my shackled hands. “Dead on.”

  With a roar, Nate lurched forward and shoved me down onto the Godfeather’s exquisite desk. He pinned me there, gleaming knife to my throat. If I moved at all, or if he so much as twitched, that knife would open a glitter well in my neck.

  “Flock you, Erik,” he hissed. “How could you say that? Any of that?”

  I inhaled a slow breath and calmly replied, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You finally get to be the big brother. Mommy and Daddy aren’t here, and you have all the power, like you wanted.”

  “I hate you,” he seethed. “I’ve always hated you. You spoiled, wretched little parasite.”

  “Sticks and stones, Nathan,” I replied, cold as ice.

  But it was a mask. An act. It was what I had to do, consequences be clammed.

  “Either grow a pair and do it,” I continued, “or back up like the coward you are.”

  Nate stood over me, one feathered hand clenching the collar of my ballistic vest and the other holding that knife in a vice grip. He trembled with rage, and his black eyes quivered with fury.

  I’d only ever seen him like this once before.

  It had broken me then.

  But I couldn’t let it break me now.

  It took all my focus, all my considerable discipline, not to shatter again.

  “Enough, Icarus,” the Godfeather squawked from his chair behind the desk.

  Nate jerked upright, taking his knife with him, leaving me unscathed… at least physically.

  I exhaled a relieved breath. I definitely did not wipe a tear or two from my eyes. Definitely not.

  “Dozens of our people got killed on the job out in Horizon City. Our sanctuary is obliterated due to your incompetence. You failed to capture the dame. She turned herself in and claimed the bounty. Now you’ve failed to acquire her WHIM, even with my full resources at your disposal.”

  The Godfeather enumerated Nate’s failures on his flipper-wing as if counting fingers, even though he didn’t have any.

  “Time’s up,” he concluded.

  “What? No,” Nate protested. His New Jersey accent had come back. “That’s—that’s impossible! I had at least, uh… at least ten or twenty minutes… didn’t I?”

  Now Sync’s attempted pantomimes made sense. I’d been correct that she wanted more time, but she’d wanted me to stall because Nate had been on some sort of in-game objective timer.

  “I said it before the launch, Nate,” I taunted, “you never did have any sense for timing.”

  “That’s not true!” Nate bellowed. “I was watchin’ the clock the whole time! Godfeather, I—I’m—” He turned to Sync. “You. You cheating, double-dealing glitch! This was your doin’, wasn’t it?”

  Sync just smirked at him, smug and triumphant—and again, how was it that I could read her expressions now but couldn’t catch her earlier words?

  Lips, baby. It’s all in the lips.

  “Enough,” the Godfeather squawked again. “The assassins are on their way. They owe me a favor, and we have countless wounded, or worse, because you didn’t act. I’m promoting Donnie in your place. I’m declaring him my new heir.”

  “Donnie?” Nate gawked at him. “Donnie? He’s a filthy casual! He picked this game on accident! Donnie?!”

  “And I’m giving you to the count of ten to get out of my sight,” the Godfeather continued. “From now on, you are an enemy of our family, and you are no longer welcome here. You’re no son of mine.”

  That one had to sting. It hit me, too, and I wasn’t even playing their stupid game.

  Icarus stammered for a response with that dumb trademark Nate expression while the Godfeather drew a cartoonishly large revolver out of his inventory. The golden ring on what would’ve been his pinkie finger gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as he pointed the gun at Icarus’s head.

  Come to think of it, I didn’t know how he was even wearing the ring or holding the gun since he had flippers instead of hands, but we were in a video game. This didn’t have to make perfect sense.

  Click.

  The Godfeather cocked the hammer with his other flipper. “One.”

  Nate could believe whatever he wanted about my strategic abilities, but I immediately recognized this for what it was: our best chance to find a way to escape this debacle.

  “Two.”

  “Godfeather, please!” Nate begged. “You gotta give me another chance!”

  I scanned the area for anything that might work for an escape plan. If I could’ve deployed my rickshaw indoors, that would be swell. I glanced at the row of huge windows framing the office, vividly recalling my recent near-death plunge. The afternoon sun still shone through them, and I came up with an idea. A very bad idea.

  I wonder…

  “Three,” the Godfeather said.

  “Please, Godfeather!” Nate dropped to his knees. “I’ve only done what you asked. I brought ’em to you. They’re right here!”

  “Four.”

  “Scammit, Lucretia!” Nate shouted, his voice normal again. “I’m doing what you want!”

  “Five.”

  “Flock this,” Nate grunted.

  He produced his revolver in a flicker, sprang to his feet, and dumped all six shots into the Godfeather like an old west gunfighter.

  | CRITICAL HIT |

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  A grizzled ex-mech pilot is drawn back into the Everwar, a decades-long conflict raging across Jupiter’s moonscape.

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  Dungeon Crawler Carl Audio Immersion Tunnel for Soundbooth Theater, and he's the lead writer for the Dungeon Crawler Carl Role Playing Game.