Disclaimer: Stop me if you've heard it already, but I don't own "Level Up".
5
Mahtava had studied Maldark's habits over the past few months. There were only three places to find human slaves in the city. They slaved picking fruit in the orchards and on the farms of the Scare Crows. They labored in the mines that had manifested when Maldark transformed the city. They created monuments to the sorcerer in the factories and stone quarries (which were also new additions to Daventry Hills courtesy f Maldark).
It was difficult to fight the Scare Crows. Mahtava had tangled with them before and received a bad concussion for the mistake. Hitting the mines was somewhat easier. The quarries were too perilous; there were too many ways to become boxed in by the Tenrec guards or the Grinders if they were summoned.
Factories were the easiest targets. Though Mahtava regretted having to abandon the humans enslaved in the more dangerous areas, it was necessary for the hunter to choose targets that yielded the maximum reward for the least peril.
Mahtava studied the foundry all morning, memorizing the patterns of the Tenrec patrols. There were no signs of Mesmers, thank God. The downside was that the lack of Mesmers meant that the humans enslaved inside were so cowed or broken that they were easily controlled. Mahtava did not want humans who were already defeated. Once all hell broke loose, the humans would need to fight, not cower.
While formulating a plan, Mahtava silently loaded moldy gym socks into an air cannon. The mask covering the hunter's face offered protection from the powerful stench of the garments. The hypersensitive noses of the Tenrecs, on the other hand, would be extremely vulnerable to the stink about to be unleashed upon them. Beneath the mask, Mahtava smiled in vengeful satisfaction at the thought.
Still smiling in anticipation of the their misery, Mahtava fired the stink bomb into the center of the knot of monster sentries. The Tenrecs reacted on instinct, forgetting their guard duties in their haste to escape the overwhelming stench. Eyes watering, blurring their vision, the Tenrecs fired their quills randomly at the buildings that surrounded the foundry in hopes of hitting their unseen attacker.
The projectiles bounced harmlessly off Mahtava's armor, but the hunter still cringed at the close call, all too familiar with their poison. One throw of the Atomic Wedge took out two of the Tenrecs. That leveled the playing field.
The Tenrecs scattered, fanning out to search the nearby alleys for their attacker, leaving only a few of their comrades to guard the humans, who were milling around the doorways and windows, trying to see for themselves the source of the commotion outside the factory.
Mahtava shouted to the humans: "Run! That way!" The hunter pointed in the direction of the city park and its woodlands.
Some stood still, frozen in fear. Others retreated into the factory, bereft of hope of escaping their captors. Mahtava could not help them. It was the humans who suddenly realized that freedom was within reach who reacted. They grabbed pipes and wrenches and rose up against the mutant guards. Mahtava emerged from the cover of the alley, letting the Atomic Wedge fly at any Tenrecs who came too near to harming the escaping slaves. The humans were merciless, beating down their captors with the fury born of months of captivity and grief and terror.
A dark-haired human boy let out a whoop of pure joy after knocking one Tenrec cold with a pipe. He beamed at his masked rescuer, even more thrilled with Mahtava's mysterious disguise. He beamed at the hunter. "That was awesome!"
A short, red-haired boy grabbed him by the arm. "Philbert! Come on, man, let's go before they wake up!"
Philbert resisted, swinging at another Tenrec who emerged from the foundry. He and Mahtava took out the guard before the monster could fire into the crowd of fleeing slaves.
A human couple, protectively shielding their young daughter, dared to approach their rescuer. The mother asked, "Have you seen our son?! We were separated during the invasion. His name's Mike McCobb-"
Mahtava waved them towards the relative safety of the forest. "I don't know! You've got to get out of here. Now!"
Then the hunter heard the familiar whine of the Grinders' hoverboards. Mahtava had expected the human scourge, but was still not glad to be caught between them and the remaining Tenrecs. Things were getting complicated quickly. Mahtava grasped the boomerang weapon and turned to face the approaching minions of Maldark.
Henry McCobb tugged, resisting his mother as she pulled the ten-year-old boy towards the woods. "I want to fight!" he pleaded, awkwardly lifting a heavy hammer.
"Not here! Not now! Trust me, kid, get out of here!" Mahtava yelled. Henry's mother concurred, physically picking him up and carrying him when the tiny boy still refused to move. He kneecapped one Tenrec before his mother wrangled him.
The McCobbs were the first ones the Grinders spotted-the first to vanish into the beams of their Hail Razors. Mahtava screamed, "NO!"
The hunter pitched the wedge and knocked the Grinders' leader off his board with one shot. A Tenrec quill struck the hunter's arm-guard during that lapse of attention. Luckily, it was a black quill, not a poisonous purple one.
The shaggy-haired Grinder who had fallen off his board pointed a finger at the Tenrec and growled, "Let me handle this, quill boy!"
The mutant humored the human, since Maldark had given instructions not to kill the Grinders until the Genesis Orb was recovered. The Grinders had disposed of other dissidents like the hunter, Mahtava, without difficulty. Besides, the Grinders were already doing an adequate job of vaporizing the human slaves and the Tenrecs were still repulsed by the odor of the socks lying on the pavement. None had to fortitude to brave the stench in order to dispose of the garments, and smell of the Grinders' leader was nearly as offensive. They were only too happy to retreat.
"Rotten traitors-!" Mahtava lunged at the downed Grinder, landing a flurry of kicks of punches that mostly hit the thick black padding he wore instead of his flesh.
The Grinder's brown eyes crinkled, betraying the smile underneath his mask. "Pretty sweet moves, Red."
Mahtava kept the Grinder on the defensive. He scrambled to dodge the hunter's strikes until he could finally get back on his feet. Mahtava lunged; The boy feinted left, then right, then hooked an arm around Mahtava' neck and jumped onto the hunter's back. His weight on Mahtava's back was enough to pull the hunter to the ground. They wrestled; each drew their weapon and the other flailed to push the weapon away. The human knocked the wedge out of the hunter's hand. In response, Mahtava reached backwards and ripped the cloth mask off the Grinder's face…then elbowed his nose. He yelped, letting go of the hunter.
Mahtava rolled away and whirled to see the boy's face. "Onterro."
Dante grinned at the hunter. "Mahtava." The hunter tried to retrieve the wedge, but the Grinder raised his Hail Razor in warning.
Mahtava glanced around. The humans were all but gone, falling quickly to the Grinders. "How do you live with yourself? Selling out your own people?"
Dante shrugged. "Maldark gave me a palace. My people gave me two years in juvy with twenty guys and one toilet. It wasn't a real hard choice. You've got skills. You can join us."
The hunter was offended. "Was that a joke? I'd rather you shoot me now, moron."
Well, since the hunter asked…
"You're really going through with this?"
"Someone's got to come up with a plan."
"Someone's got to come up with a better plan than Dante Onterro."
Wyatt and Lyle had to wait for night to make their way through the city, mostly by using bottles of the Fog Sprite's vapors to shroud their presence and tranquilize any monsters who wandered too near them. Lyle had learned many tricks for sneaking around the conquered city unnoticed. Getting to their destination wasn't the problem; it was the sanity of Wyatt's plan that Lyle questioned.
"He's not going to disintegrate me, Lyle. You'll see," Wyatt insisted.
The kid was either very naïve or he really did know something about the leader of the Grinders that Lyle didn't. "Glad you think so. There it is."
Lyle and Wyatt crouched in the rubble across the street from the Grinders' HQ, which turned out to be the remains of Daventry Hills High School. The high school looked to Wyatt like it could win first prize on Extreme Makeover Freak Edition. There were all kinds of game leaks mingling among the Grinders: Tenrecs patrolled the perimeter. Mesmers stood silent watch. Skulks dozed, dangling from the trees and bike racks. Some of the Grinders were skateboarding on the stairs and the handrails. Others were using their hoverboards to fly from the roof down to the grass, usually falling off when they tried to land, after which they'd jump to their feet and high five each other. Trash cans, small piles of rubble, and a few overturned cars were on fire. The walls were covered with graffiti tags and surreal art that Wyatt would have recognized as Dante's handiwork any time.
"Didn't I say this was a bad idea?" Now that they were there, at the lair of the traitors, Lyle was having second, third, and fourth thoughts. It didn't matter if the Mesmers caught Wyatt and used their powers on him. Maldark and the Grinders already knew where the fugitives were camped and had failed to break past their defenses time and again. Lyle had nothing to lose whatever happened to the other teenager. If Wyatt insisted on getting hit by a train, Lyle had no wish to be the one who led him to the railroad tracks.
Wyatt sighed. "About twenty times. Supposing by some miracle Dante doesn't vaporize me-if I get him to agree to help, will you be there when we hit Maldark's castle? We'll need all the help we can get."
Lyle snorted. "Yeah, nothing draws volunteers like a suicide mission with no chance of success. Good luck with that." He turned to go before one of Maldark's goons spotted him.
Wyatt caught his arm. "What about saving your dad?"
He pulled free. "What's saving my dad is me not showing up on Maldark's doorstep." With that, Lyle disappeared into the night under another shroud of sprite fog.
"Right." Wyatt let him go. He watched the Grinders for a few minutes, debating how to approach them without getting a butt full of Tenrec quills or shot by those nasty Hail Razors. He didn't recognize a single one of the teenagers milling around the entrance to the old school, which meant they probably weren't from the high school. They definitely weren't part of the group that Dante hung out with at the skate park. Wyatt had been there once or twice, and they definitely were a…memorable…bunch.
He decided on the direct route. Taking a deep breath, hoping not to die, Wyatt stepped out of hiding and walked right up to the dumbfounded Grinders.
The Tenrecs aimed their quills at him, but held back, apparently waiting for a cue from the humans or the Mesmers. The Mesmers crystal face plates glowed red, obviously reporting Wyatt's presence to Maldark himself.
Wyatt waved nervously as the boys drew their Hail Razors and surrounded him. "Hi, guys. Love what you've done here. The place looks very-Resident Evil I guess would describe it. No hard feelings about yesterday, right? I'm not here to fight, don't even have a weapon."
He held up his hands and did a quick spin, just so they could see for themselves that he was unarmed. Up close, they were a scary-looking bunch. Most of them looked like they could bench press a Hyundai, and their eyes were stone cold. Wyatt stammered on: "I just want to talk to…well, I guess he's your boss. Dante Onterro? Might be calling himself 'Sir Bickle'? You know him?"
"And who are you?" a familiar voice asked.
The Grinders parted like water to clear a path for a grungy figure whom Wyatt recognized at once: Dante. He was sporting a recently-bruised nose, was dressed a lot like his game avatar underneath his overcoat, had some strange piece of metal stuck in the left side of his neck, and there was none of his usual humor in his expression or his eyes, but he was still unmistakably Dante.
Now that Wyatt looked, he noticed all the boys had those odd metal shards in their necks. What the heck were those things?
He was staring at Wyatt like he couldn't believe the teenager's nerve in striding right up to them.
Lyle watched from a hiding spot behind a smashed and overturned dumpster. He'd started to walk away, but something made him turn around. Morbid interest in seeing how far Wyatt would get before the Grinders wasted him, Lyle supposed. Besides, Wyatt was a decent kid—insanity notwithstanding. He shouldn't die alone; someone should be there with him, a witness if nothing else. It wasn't that Lyle believed any of the crap the computer geek had said. It wasn't that any small part of Lyle hoped that Wyatt was telling the truth.
That wasn't it at all.
Wyatt forced a grin despite his nervousness. "Hey, buddy! I can see you don't remember me. I'm Wyatt. School A/V club? Academic Olympics champ? No?"
Dante blinked at him.
The other Grinders fingered their weapons.
"Seriously, guys, not here to fight," Wyatt said to them. "You're probably not going to believe this, but I'm here because I need your help. I can explain if you give me a chance."
Dante frowned.
Wyatt added: "I know a way to stop Maldark…"
Still not saying a word, Dante drew his own Hail Razor. Wyatt vanished into the energy stream as the Grinders laughed and made comments like 'freak', 'geek', and 'loser'.
The Mesmer returned to its silent watch. The Tenrecs resumed their patrols, satisfied that the Grinder had contained the problem.
Dante ignored them all. Still frowning, he turned and ducked back into the building while the others resumed their games. He paused only to check that Tenrecs and Mesmers were taking no further interest and were reporting to Maldark that a human dissident has been neutralized.
Only Rat, Deke, and Jonas followed Dante inside.
Still watching from the alley, Lyle slammed his fist angrily against the dumpster. He knew that little weasel couldn't be trusted! Why did he listen to Wyatt?
Anger abated, leaving only quiet resolve. Enough was enough…no more hiding. Lyle was ready to start taking the fight to the invaders and their goons…and Dante Onterro and his Lost Boys were the first ones Lyle would take down.
Wyatt was rather surprised-pleasantly so-to wake up not vaporized.
It was, however, unsettling to wake up with three of the punked out Grinders standing over him. He discovered that he was laying on a 'mattress' comprised of smashed boxes, newspapers, and bags of trash.
Among the faces, Dante was smirking down at Wyatt. "Bang bang, you're dead, champ."
Another boy with long curly hair and scary blue eyes added: "Welcome to hell."
Rat offered Wyatt a hand standing up. The burly teenager tugged hard enough that Wyatt was actually lifted a couple inches off the ground as he regained his feet. He smiled thanks at the behemoth, making a quick resolution to stay on this kid's good side.
They were gathered in the high school's main hallway. Like the exterior, the place was trashed, half-collapsed, and things were burning. Dante had redecorated the place with his own 'artwork' and the other boys had contributed their own graffiti.
Wyatt patted himself on the arms and legs and face just to check that he was really alive, since the last thing he remembered was Dante shooting him. "What…how…when? How did you-?"
Dante moved to sit on the stairs. He waved to a short boy with spiky hair and thick glasses. "Jonas?"
Jonas grinned and moved to stand between Dante and Wyatt. Dante drew his weapon again and shot Jonas with the Hail Razor. The boy vanished. Wyatt would have shouted or screamed, but he was frozen in surprise.
Dante pressed a second button on the stick. Jonas reappeared, standing on the steps behind Dante, completely unharmed and grinning like a madman.
Wyatt let out the breath he'd been holding. "It's a teleporter, not a gun."
"Gold star for the nerd," Dante said.
"It's both…at least, now it is," Jonas boasted, obviously the one who'd modified the game weapon.
"Jonas is a genius with gadgets. He's the one who made the fire sprinklers rain turkey gravy on the homecoming pep rally," Rat explained.
A grin spread across Wyatt's face, and not just because he remembered the gravy incident. "I knew it! I knew you wouldn't vaporize me…anyone…wouldn't vaporize anyone." He almost hugged Dante, until the other boy raised an eyebrow to warn him he'd damned well better not.
"How do you know I just didn't keep you alive to interrogate you?" Dante rather enjoyed how fast the grin dropped off the curly-haired kid's face at that question. Wyatt hadn't thought of that.
Before Wyatt could answer, he was interrupted when the scary blue-eyed boy let out a yelp. The Grinders turned to see that he'd set his coat sleeve on fire. Without missing a beat, Dante pulled the towel from his pocket and tossed it at the kid, obviously having dealt with this situation before.
"Again? Really? Deke, what's the rule about fire?" he asked.
Deke was both sheepish and annoyed as he smothered the flames. "Only in the cans you marked."
Dante nodded. "Thank you."
Wyatt cringed. "How about 'no fires at all', Deke? That's also a good rule…"
"Baby steps, Wyatt. Deacon's special." Dante returned his full attention to their guest/prisoner. "Sir Bickle was my dog's name. How'd you know that?" It was also the Grinders' password, but Dante figured that curly top didn't need to know that.
"You named your avatar after your dog?" Wyatt asked.
"What?"
"Never mind." Wyatt had to approach this carefully if he didn't want Dante to Taser him with the other setting on the weapon. "I'm going to take a wild guess-we haven't met?"
Dante stared at him as if trying to place his face. "Were you in the school band?"
Wyatt shuddered. "No! Were you?"
Dante's ears turned red. "No."
Wyatt figured the fastest way was just to be direct and honest. "Okay, here it comes, right between the eyes-would you believe me if I said we're friends from an alternate timeline where we stopped Maldark from invading Daventry Hills?"
His friend's frown said that he wouldn't believe that at all.
Still, Wyatt pressed on: "We were a gamer clan called 'Never Fail'. We stopped Maldark. So, he sent his Doublebacks to screw up our past and keep us from ever forming our clan. Without us, he conquered Daventry Hills."
Dante and the Grinders exchanged looks. Some shrugged. Some snickered. Some shook their heads, thinking Wyatt was even crazier than they were. Dante also smirked a little bit, but humored Wyatt a bit longer.
"That how you landed on Maldark's most wanted list?" he asked.
It was then that someone Wyatt did recognize strode into the hallway. Oblivious to the on-going Q&A session, Guy walked in, carrying the crates labeled 'Human Food'. He added this to a stack of similar crates in the janitor closet. Only then did he turn and spot Wyatt. Recognizing him from the tavern, Guy jumped. "It's you…"
Wyatt remembered seeing him at the tavern as well…not long before the Grinders arrived. Guy had been toying with the garish ring on his finger. On a hunch, Wyatt grabbed Guy's hand and pressed his thumb against the ring. The false stone began to flash a warning light and a warning alarm echoed through the high school. "I wondered how the Grinders found me so fast…you were the one who tipped them off that I was in the tavern," he accused.
Guy did not deny it. "I regret the ruse, Mr.-?"
"Wyatt. Wyatt Black."
The game leak gave a slight bow in greeting. "I'm what you might call a spotter. If I see a human, I-"
"Guy." Dante tried to silence the avatar. He still didn't know Wyatt, neither did he trust him with too much information.
Guy fumbled, changing his answer mid-sentence. "-report them to Sir Dante for termination."
"Oh yeah? Like he 'terminated' me?" Wyatt turned back to Dante. "I'll bet you didn't vaporize Angie, either."
Dante stared blankly. Wyatt knew that face. It was Dante's 'I'm going to pass off a lie to Barbra' face. "Sorry, 'computer buddy', I don't know any 'Angie'."
Computer buddy! Dante had called him 'computer buddy'! Wyatt pounced on that. "So, you do know me!"
"You wanted them to replace the candy in the vending machines with fruits and veggies. Everyone knows you. You had many enemies here…"
Wyatt blurted, "Man, how'd you get stuck henching for Maldark? What happened last September?"
The hints of humor Dante had shown instantly melted into a frown. He did not answer.
"You don't want to tell me. That's fine," Wyatt said. "It's kind of history-altering important, but that's fine. So answer this: Why would you ever help Maldark?"
The place stank like urine and body odor. The food was unidentifiable and inedible, even to Dante, who had been known to eat pineapple skins and car seat covers. Everybody in the place was just insane enough to make Dante the most normal person in the facility. It was a cesspool in the middle of a dump at the bottom of a sinkhole.
But, what the hell, it was still better than Phys. Ed., Dante mused.
After two months, he was starting to feel right at home in the county juvenile detention facility. The place was insane, but he could do crazy in his sleep.
The lady sitting on the other side of the table, however, stuck out like a flashing neon sign that read: "Lawyer". She was too clean, her clothes were too neat, and her eyes too sane for her to ever fit in with the guests of this state-operated palace, he thought. He was willing to bet the most awful thing that happened in her life was getting a zit on prom night. Still, Lumilla Ortiz had a way of tearing the prosecuting attorneys a new one with just a raised eyebrow or a sharp retort during Dante's court appearances that he'd come to admire over the past three months. He could see why she was BFF's with Barbra during their college years.
Lumilla was explaining the plea bargain agreement when a foul scent suddenly burned her eyes and made her cough. She looked up from the papers to see two lace-less tennis shoes propped on the table not far from her face. She raised an eyebrow at the dark-eyed boy sitting opposite her and shoved his feet off the table. "I'm trying to tell you, if you'd pay attention, that you'll be out of here in two days…if you don't do things like this." The lawyer lady frowned and reached across the table. The guards standing in the corner tensed, until they saw her tug at the name tag on Dante's prison uniform. It read: 'Fenway'. "What did you do with your uniform, Dante?" she scolded.
He shrugged and placed his feet right back on the table until the guard cleared his throat, warning him he'd damned well better behave for the nice attorney. Dante knew better than to make a face or a smart-ass remark to the guard unless he wanted to have his next three meals in solitary confinement.
"Do you want to be stuck here longer for playing games?" Lumilla asked him. The prosecution had not been able to prove the arson allegations against the teenager. Though Principal Storm's house had been deliberately set on fire, Dante had insisted he'd just been passing by and broke a window going in to see if the principal was trapped inside.
Of course, Dante had also claimed to have been lured to Storm's house when a man dressed like a giant robot had jumped out of the bushes, knocked him off his skateboard, and stolen his new cell phone.
Given that the school official and the school delinquent despised each other utterly (and given that the only other suspect was a robot with kleptomania), Dante had a hard time convincing anyone. To his utter shock, his mother had believed him almost without question and asked Ortiz to defend her son. There had been no real evidence to convict the kid of setting the fire, but Dante had still been stuck with a trespassing and breaking and entering charge. Ortiz had bargained to get the teenager out of juvenile hall into the minimum security boys' ranch.
"Not like I have anyplace else to go."
She frowned, this time in sympathy mixed with genuine concern. The kid she'd known pretty much since Barbra gave birth to him was a firecracker…ornery, stubborn, impulsive, reckless but generally good-humored. The boy staring at her now was broody, angry, barely spoke to anyone, and mistrustful. She understood the change-the last three months since the fire had been seven kinds of hell for him. Nobody could be expected to deal with all that had happened without being affected.
Ortiz's expression softened a bit. "I haven't been able to locate your father." She'd known that would be a futile effort, but she had to try under the circumstances. "Your grandmother will be able to visit as her health allows."
"Visit?" Dante picked up on that word.
"There's an opening at a home-" she started.
"'Foster' or 'boys'?"
"You know the answer to that, Dante. Once you turn eighteen, you'll receive the trust fund your mother set up-but you'll have to abide by her stipulation that part of the money be used to pay for your college education," Ortiz hoped he understood what Barbra had done for him.
"Two years in the home. Yeah, can't wait."
Ortiz closed the files, regarding him seriously. "Dante, off the record, I'm sorry about Barbra. I miss her, too. And I'm sorry for everything that you've been through…"
Dante snorted. Was that supposed to make him feel better? He was in freaking baby jail and his mom, probably the only person who had truly given a crap whether he lived or died, was dead. It wasn't as if she could possibly have a clue how he felt. "No good deed goes unpunished."
"…but two years at Brook Ranch is better than two years in here, and you are very lucky that your mother made provisions for your future. She made sure you'd have a second chance. So, I really hope you don't piss that away. Try to stay out of trouble."
Still brooding, Dante was ushered back to the large cell he shared with five other boys (common areas having been converted to cells due to the overcrowded state prison system) by the tall, hairy guards he'd mentally nicknamed 'Popeye' and 'Bluto'.
He was just in time to pull the towel from his back pocket (the towel was contraband, since they didn't want the boys to have anything they could harm themselves with-so, each time the guards confiscated one, Dante managed to snag another, mostly to hack off the authority figures) and toss it to his cellmate, Deacon. The hulking teenager had just managed to ignite his own pant legs using glasses he'd 'borrowed' from another inmate. Deacon let out a yelp, somehow surprised at the tiny flames despite having spent a half-hour trying to create them.
"Stop, drop, and roll, bud," Dante advised.
"Thanks, Dante." Deacon used towel to beat out the small flames.
"You need help, Deke. I say that with love, man."
Deacon nodded in agreement. Seconds later, the guards rushed in, having seen the whole thing on the security cameras. They determined that the kid had not burned himself. They debated what to do with the exasperating prisoner. If they put him in solitary, he had a tendency to pass the time by pulling out his hair due to claustrophobia. If they left him in general population, he amused himself with antics like home tattoos and small fires. Dante figured one more stunt like this ought to land Deacon in a mental ward somewhere. In the end, they gave Deacon another warning and took the towel and glasses away.
Dante shook his head. He had to be surrounded by freaks when he was the most normal person in the cell block. He moved to his bunk and stretches out on the mattress. He was able to relax for exactly ten seconds before the bunk above his squeaked, shook, and a head bent over the side so two green, beady eyes could peer at Dante.
"Hey, Rat."
Rat raised an eyebrow impatiently, demanding. "Well?"
Dante reached into another pocket and pulls out a bag, mindful that the cameras in the room didn't see. He passed it to Rat. The boy opened the bag and sniffed. A smile spread across his lips. "Colby?" he asked.
"Feta."
Rat slapped his shoulder with a beefy hand, nearly sending Dante flying off the bunk. "You rock, dude."
Dante thought Rat used the word 'dude' far too much, but the kid was one-hundred eighty pounds of muscle and roughly the size of an ox, so Dante wasn't about to criticize. He had no idea what the boy's real name was-Dante had nicknamed him Rat for his cheese obsession. The fact that Dante was a) a 'musician' of sorts and b) able to procure his favorite snack even inside the prison walls played to Rat's two favorite things-rock music and cheese. In exchange for the food and a promise that he could be a roadie for Dante's band, Durasmell, Rat had appointed himself Dante's bodyguard…and Dante needed one in this place.
The floor shook when Rat jumped from the bunk. He turned doleful green eyes on Dante. "So, you're really leaving?"
Word sure got around fast in this place, Dante thought. "Two days. Brook Ranch."
Rat and Deke look depressed. Deke nervously picked at green stuff growing beneath his fingernails. "I'd rather burn off my eyebrows than stay at the Ranch."
Dante decided that attitude might be more meaningful if the kid didn't burn off his eyebrows twice a month anyway just for the hell of it. "Not helping, Deke. Besides, anyplace is better than here."
He didn't believe his own words. On the other hand, Dante didn't much care where he ended up. Not anymore. He missed his mom. He even missed his deadbeat dad. There was no house, no home, to go back to, so what difference did it make what hole they tossed him down until his eighteenth birthday?
He drifted to sleep, the only way to escape the broody thoughts, until something that sounded like an explosion shook the walls of the prison. Dante snapped awake with such a jolt that he actually tumbled off the bunk. He saw the sky outside the barred windows was now dark.
Deke and another boy named Jonas were sitting on a bench, playing cards. Rat was tearing their last roll of toilet paper into dime-sized bits. They jumped to their feet and followed Dante as he ran for the window. They could hear the guards shouting outside.
"What was that?" Deke asked no one in particular.
Rat effortlessly boosted Dante up so he could reach the window. Seconds later, Deke was beside him, standing on Jonas' shoulders.
Both boys blinked, having no clue whatsoever what they were seeing. In the distance, a building was burning, that much was obvious. That wasn't the strange part-it explained the explosion. What they couldn't identify was a strange purple glow emanating from the site of the burning building…a purple glow and what looked like a purple dome of energy. As they watched, the dome expanded upwards and outwards, fed by a column of energy at its center.
"And what the hell is that?" Dante asked.
The purple field was heading directly for them…well, for the whole city, in fact. The juvenile prison was on the outskirts of the city, affording them a ringside seat for what happened next. As the boys watched, everything that came into contact with the energy-which was every structure and vehicle, period—was twisted, torn up, and reconstructed to look like something out of a video game. Dante studied the new structures, thinking there was something familiar about all of it.
Then he remembered-everything he was seeing, from medieval pub into towering lava domes, was straight out of the online game, 'Conqueror Of All Worlds'. He'd played a few times before the fire at Storm's house had wrecked his whole universe.
Dante didn't look away from the spectacle as he asked Deke, "Okay…I know you melted a few brain cells eating paint chips, but you're seeing this, too, right?"
Wide-eyed, Deke nodded.
The purple energy field was picking up speed as it expanded. Dante realized it was going to hit the prison. He jumped from Rat's shoulders, shouting the only warning that came to his panicky mind: "Stop, drop, and roll!"
Deke tumbled to the floor beside Dante. "I think you mean 'duck and cover'!"
"That too!" Dante dove under his bunk, not exactly sure what good it was going to do. He curled up, arms protecting his head, just as his first grade teachers had taught him during earthquake drills, and squeezed his eyes shut.
The ground shook like an earthquake. It was followed by what sounded like the building groaning as it was turned inside out. He sensed the bunk being lifted away and heard the grind of metal as it was torn apart. The cement beneath him turned to mud. He barely noticed and didn't care. The chaos seemed to last forever.
When the tremors finally subsided and the sounds of destruction gave way to eerie silence and the labored, frightened breaths of the other boys, Dante finally opened his eyes and dared to look around.
The prison was now a dank dungeon, complete with torches, real rats, and scattered pools of moldy water on the dirt floor (at least, Dante hoped it was water). Even the bars of their cell were now rusted and ancient-looking. The walls were made of rock and mortar, with water running down the stones. Chains and empty manacles dangled from the walls.
The prisoners' jumpsuits were now filthy, tattered rags like they'd all just stepped out of the Dark Ages, and they were barefooted…all except Dante. He was dressed in black cloth that felt like it was made of Teflon and wore heavy black boots. He knew the uniform; it was the outfit of his avatar in 'Conqueror Of All Worlds'.
He let out a gasp of surprise. "What?"
The yells and screams began…guards rushed by, similarly dressed like medieval peasants but now unarmed. The other cries came from adjoining cell blocks, probably the other prisoners having a hairy freak out, Dante guessed. There were also strange noises coming from outside. Dante ran back to the window, waving for Rat to boost him up again.
Outside, the prison yard was gone, replaced with a drawbridge and moat. People were running-all of them dressed like they'd just stepped out of the game. They were running because they were being chased by monsters from the game.
He recognized the monsters. "Three-Toed Tenrecs? Mesmers?" In the game, these weirdos were the enforcers for the number one bad guy.
Maldark.
The Tenrecs formed a perimeter around the building. Mesmers were hypnotizing the terrified humans, bringing them under control. At the center of the commotion stood a Timiga hunter with a pet Frill-Necked Slimer. He was clearly the leader of this attachment of Maldark's soldiers.
"What's going on out there?" Rat wanted to know.
"Either the most awesome sci-fi convention, bar none, or we are in serious freaking shit," Dante answered.
The Timiga faced the prison/dungeon, knowing all inside were watching or listening.
"Humans. I am Saast, First One of Lord Maldark. As of this moment, you are now in his service. You will be collected and sent to assigned areas of labor. Failure to comply with our every order is grounds for immediate execution. Remain where you are an await instructions fro-"
The mutant's speech suddenly stopped when the stream of energy feeding the purple dome suddenly winked out. The expansion of the dome halted. Saast and the other mutants conferred, agitated.
Dante heard the Timiga bark orders: "Something has gone wrong. Lord Maldark requires our assistance." He pointed the Mesmers towards the prison. "These humans are already contained. They pose no threat. Keep them here. I will return as soon as I am able."
With that, he led the Tenrecs away while the Mesmers remained on guard at the jail.
Dante turned from the window, insanely afraid to be spotted watching them. He worked to mentally process what he'd just seen, what had just happened. "Okay, you all heard that, right?"
Rat was frowning. "Did he say 'Maldark'? The video game dude? Is this a joke?"
Dante shook his head. "Don't think so, no." He was working hard not to hyperventilate or fly into a major panic attack. The fact that everyone in the room was looking at him as if he should know what to do was not helping. "How do you feel about indentured servitude to a big, scary, purple warlock?"
They exchanged baffled looks. Jonas asked for everyone, "Denture what?"
"Slaves! Do you want to be slaves?"
They all shook their heads adamantly.
Dante nodded. "Yeah, me either…we've got to get out of here."
Dante answered Wyatt's question: "Be a henchman. Be a charcoal briquette. What would you have picked?"
Wyatt didn't believe that was all there was to it. He would bet it had something to do with that metal thing in Dante's neck, and that Maldark was to thank for that implant. "That's fair…but I know you, Dante. You aren't that guy."
"What do you think you know about me, Wyatt?"
The question was a dare. Wyatt sighed again. He was losing Dante behind that aggravating wall the kid used to put up to keep people at a distance. He hadn't seen this Dante since way back when they'd first met, before he'd gained the eccentric boy's trust.
"All right, you want proof? Well, first and foremost, I know there's no timeline where you'd set Principal Storm's house on fire. I know you have webbed toes and a dead skin collection. I know you can eat the most disgusting stuff ever without getting sick. I know you write really God-awful music. Do you believe me now?"
Dante wasn't smirking anymore. He looked uncertain.
"No? Need more proof? We're best friends, Dante. I've been to your house. I've seen your clothes sphere. I know your mom thinks condiments qualify as breakfast food…"
Photo…Wyatt needed to show him the photo of Never Fail. That would help. He patted his pockets, searching for the picture.
He startled a bit when Dante was suddenly standing right in front of him. "You know Barbra?"
Something told Wyatt this was a test question…and it wasn't just because Guy was standing in the corner shaking his head in warning at Wyatt and the other Grinders were trading knowing looks. He didn't know how else to answer but to be truthful. "Sure. She's a little high strung, but nice…"
"When was the last time you were at our house?"
Another test question. Wyatt answered carefully. "In my timeline? Two days ago. I take it back the eating thing-you couldn't keep Barbra's Soy Sauce Surprise down…"
Dante's face became a mask of cold, hard, fury.
"This is bullshit!" Dante gestured to Guy. "Lock him up. Maldark can have him," he ordered, heading up the staircase without looking back. If he looked at Wyatt again, he might just be tempted to use the Hail Razor's lethal setting on the liar.
"What?! What'd I say-?! Dante, wait!" Wyatt shouted as his friend walked away. "I also know there's no timeline where you'd ever let Maldark make you his errand boy! You were a knight! You shredded Maldark! If we find the Doublebacks, we can change things back to the way they're supposed to be. No henching, no-whatever happened to you on September 30, 2011-! Dante!"
His friend was gone. Wyatt didn't know if he'd even been listening.
The other Grinders were glaring as if they'd very much like to feed Wyatt to a Lava Belcher. Guy grabbed their prisoner and led him away, waving off the boys.
"What was that about? What did I say? Other than the whole 'alternate timeline' thing?" Wyatt asked the game leak.
Guy was trying to be patient, but his irritation with Wyatt showed in the downward curl of his lips. "If you wanted to succeed with your ploy, Mr. Wyatt, you shouldn't have tried lying about his mother."
That confused Wyatt all the more. "Barbra? But I didn't-"
"The Lady Barbra has been dead for seven months," Guy informed him.
Wyatt's mouth fell open. "What? How? When? Was it Maldark?"
Guy paused. There was something in this odd boy's tone that sounded like genuine sorrow. "No. Sir Dante would be cross with me for telling you, but…she died before the invasion. She was killed by a drunk driver. It happened while Sir Dante was incarcerated, I regret to say. Wrongfully incarcerated. You were correct about him. He's no ruthless murderer. It's just that his life depends on people believing otherwise."
Wyatt was stunned, at a loss for what to say. Barbra was dead? And…wait, what did Guy say after that? "Incarcerated?"
"Wrongfully incarcerated," Guy corrected.
"That shouldn't have happened…none of that was supposed to happen."
Guy escorted Wyatt to the room that had once been the school's photo lab. He unlocked the door and waved Wyatt inside. "Be warned, Mr. Black: I am a gentleman, but Sir Dante is my friend. If you use his mother to try to manipulate him again, you will answer to me."
"I'd never do that." Wyatt wished he could prove his words to the avatar. "You're like a house father or something?"
That made the portly man smile. He supposed it was an apt description. "A friend. Not everyone from the game is in league with Maldark."
"Trust me I know…and I'm not sure how you ended up meeting Dante, but I'm betting it had something to do with gathering frogs. That's how it happened in my timeline," Wyatt guessed.
"Indeed, it did." Guy was thoughtful for a moment, finally deciding. "I truly regret this, Mr. Wyatt. I would like to believe you. I would prefer your timeline to this one."
With a last, apologetic glance, he locked Wyatt in the lab.
Dante was more than a little rattled after the conversation with Wyatt, not to mention pissed off. Naturally, that's when the Mesmer appeared to block his path, projecting the image of the last 'person' he felt like dealing with at the moment.
Maldark's hologram demanded: "Where is the fugitive?"
Dante was tempted to tell him exactly where to come get Wyatt. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't do it. Wyatt might be at the top of Dante's list of Major Cramps, but Maldark was still number two on that list. "Didn't the Mesmers show you? He's dust. I fragged him when he set his feet on my steps."
The warlock was pleased, for a change. "Congratulations-you've dispatched Mahtava and the dissident both on the same day. Perhaps there are limits to your incompetence."
The compliment only made Dante feel like scum. He still managed to force a cocky smile. "It's what I do, boss."
Maldark's sneer returned. "As a reward, I'll let you live a bit longer…but bring me Hugginson and the Genesis Orb before I change my mind, boy."
This time, Dante expected the parting shot of electricity, but it still made him stumble a bit. He bit his tongue, damned if he was going to make a sound of pain while Maldark can hear and the frigging Mesmer was watching.
Once Maldark cut the connection and the implant stops burning, Dante staggered back to his 'room', which was the principal's old office. He had no idea what happened to any of the school faculty during the invasion. He didn't want to know. He shut the door, like that was going to hide him from Maldark and his minions.
Dante sat on his 'mattress', another bag of cardboard and trash. He couldn't keep doing this much longer, and he knew it. Deke was right-Maldark was going to figure out the truth and then he'd kill all of them.
How'd you get stuck henching for Maldark? I know you, Dante. You aren't that guy.
Dante almost smiled. It was a nice thought at least…