Disclaimer – Still just fanfiction.
Acknowledgements – Thanks for the contributions from BajaB, Perspicacity, and Benny S.
The Next Lord of Kobol
Chapter 14 – Virtual Greatness
The man shuffled into the business with a slight limp. The left knee had a long and painful history that had caught him unaware. In his weathered hands was a cylinder containing a brownish liquid that had almost a tea-like appearance. With some luck, he could sell it in exchange for some cubits. The aisles of the store were filled with commercially produced cylinders and garish advertising stating how wonderful this product was. It wasn't really and the man disliked the whole idea, but sin sold all over the Twelve Colonies and there was money to be made.
"What can I do for you old timer?" the clerk asked.
"I've just started growing for my own personal use, but I'd like to sell some of surplus extract." The old man was surprised how hoarse his voice sounded.
"So you've never sold any 'Stract to us before?"
"No. No, I haven't."
"Alright, let me scan your ident card."
"Oh I uh, I didn't bring that today, young man. Must've left it at home."
The clerk nodded. "Fair enough, but you know that I can only give you sixty percent without scanning your card – twelve cubits instead of the twenty and we take your picture."
"Its fine," he answered.
"Let's see what you have," the clerk stated and reached for the cylinder. He took it and attached it to a machine that would test the quality of the chamala extract.
Ten seconds passed until the machine beeped and displayed a value of ninety-three percent. This seemed to pique the person behind the counter's curiosity and he ran the test a second time and received the same result.
The old man offered a hopeful smile. Instead the clerk removed the cylinder and thrust it back to him. "Are you some kind of idiot?"
"I don't … I don't understand."
"Sure you don't. You expect me to believe you grew laboratory grade 'Stract in your little backyard garden. See this number, dipshit? If it's above seventy-five, it didn't come from a frakkin home setup. So take your stolen cylinder and get your ass out of the shop before I call the cops! Do you understand that?"
Shaken, the man could only nod and hobble back out the door while the clerk tossed a few more choice words for him and a warning of what would happen if he ever showed his miserable face in there again.
Annoyed the old man pushed the door open and wandered out into the daylight. He gimped around the corner and turned into the alley. Seeing no other person in the alley, he took three steps in, cast a glance over his shoulder and Apparated away.
(*-*-*)
"Master Harry did not sell his extract? Did Dobby not do his job correctly?" The elf looked close to having a fit.
Harry slouched in the chair and could only wait for the polyjuice to wear off. Essentially a dose wasted on his trial run with no cubits to show for it. "You did too good of a job, Dobby. Don't be upset. Apparently our magic makes too pure of a product. They thought I stole it from a laboratory."
"Harry Potter does not steal!"
Harry was amused by his elf's loyalty. Technically, he had stolen things from the junkyard where he worked. He was also growing a hallucinogenic drug in illegal quantities. But you could never convince Dobby, or Winky for that matter, that he was doing anything wrong.
"Don't get worked up over it, Dobby. I just didn't expect it to be so potent. I can look up a few clips on the grid about how to properly dilute chamala extract so that we can sell it. This is actually good news though. It means we will have more to sell."
Herbology had always had such a bad reputation back on Earth, but Harry was developing a new level of respect for Professor Sprout. Half recalled spells that infuse the soil and encourage growth coupled with charms imparting resistance to pests, weeds, and blight; along with the dutiful attention of Dobby and Winky all combined to create a potent, hardy strain that thumbed its nose at the best Caprican agriculture and science had to offer.
Growing definitely wasn't going to be the problem. Distribution, on the other hand, certainly would.
Harry shrugged and asked his elf to fetch him something to eat. Normally, he'd go get it himself, but he didn't want to put any additional weight on his leg until he changed back. Supplementing his pittance of an income from the reclamation center with selling chamala might be slightly more difficult than he thought. Also, he seemed to have a problem concentrating, which made him wonder if there were side effects from using hair samples from patients in a mental home.
Perhaps this wasn't my best plan. He thought.
The system was set up to prevent a person doing exactly what Harry was trying to do. Cylinders cost three cubits each. With an ident card, you could get up to twenty cubits. Without one, clerks would only give you twelve. They made a half-hearted effort to take your picture, but from what Harry had heard on the grid, no one ever looks at the picture database. It was like the feeble attempts by the Ministry of Magic back on Earth when it came to restricting dark magic.
Still, chamala sales wasn't a huge profit margin, and it was never going to make him rich, but Harry once more relied on magic to give him an advantage. Considerable practice with Transfiguration had already solved the problem with buying cylinders in large quantities. Buying a commercial distributors license was too expensive and out of Harry's reach for the foreseeable future.
Smalltime chamala movers, like what Harry currently aspired to become, used other people called mules. They paid them a couple of cubits to pass off the cylinders as their own. Maggie said some of her friends used to work as mules for some extra pocket change, but Harry didn't have a large supply of friends.
He did have the ability to make a dose of polyjuice from Hufflepuff's cup every day. Coupled with an invisibility cloak to gather hairs from the facility he still visited for speech therapy classes and Harry could be his own group of mules.
The devil was in the details, as Harry was quickly learning. Mr. Jordan's knee was one very unfortunate side effect of his trial and error, making the young wizard wonder how in the world Barty Crouch the younger managed to spend almost a full year in Moody's broken old body.
Then again, Barty was a psychotic murderer, so Harry assumed that allowed the frakking bastard the willpower to get through it. Spending some time in Mr. Jordan's body made Harry seriously consider a nap and hate the idea of getting old. Fortunately, the mental afflictions were not part of the polyjuice experience and Harry could be certain that no one would be using the same people as mules. The majority of Harry's "assistants" weren't even allowed to leave the grounds, but considering the potential side effects, he wondered if it might be a better idea to get his samples elsewhere. Offerings of hair clippings were often made to the Goddess Athena. Considering Harry had met her using the resurrection stone, he decided that she wouldn't be too insulted if he were to repurpose some. Even so, he would need to be careful. He didn't want to end up in a child's body or a woman's body.
Still, it was a teachable moment as his old headmaster on the other side of the universe would say. Once he got everything in order, he could sell his product and Apparate to shops in two or perhaps three other towns before the polyjuice wore off and squeeze every last cubit out of his potion. Snape would be proud and that was a steaming sack of shit.
It probably wasn't the life Albus envisioned for the so-called chosen one, but Harry was playing the crappy hand he'd been dealt.
(*-*-*)
"Harry, you shouldn't spend all your cubits taking the train to come and see me. You were just here a three weeks ago. What's wrong with visiting on the grid?"
With a shrug, Harry smiled and said, "The best part of being in charge of my life is that I can go where I please. The best part of having a girlfriend is having someone to visit. I wanted to take you out to dinner and surprise you."
There actually hadn't been very many times in my life that I could say that I was in control of my life, he thought. Sad, but at least that is changing. The one benefit of running my own personal drug ring is that now I actually have some cubits.
He hadn't expected any resistance when he knocked on the front door of Maggie's relative's house. If his old friend, Hermione had been here, she would have no doubt pointed out the flaw in his plan and how he was just thinking from his perspective. Even from somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, she was right. He wished he could see her to tell her that.
"So, you're not happy to see me?" Harry asked and frowned. He let the flowers in his hand droop to make his point.
Maggie gave an exasperated eye roll and replied, "Of course I am happy to see you, Harry. I was just about to hop on the grid to meet up with you. Aren't you supposed to be working tonight?"
"I got someone to cover the first half of my shift," Harry lied. "After dinner, I will catch the train back to Delphi and have plenty of time."
Too bad I can't tell her that I apparated two times to get here and my roundtrip only requires destination, determination, and whatever the hell the third d was. I think I'll make a portkey for convenience. Next time, I might even try it in one hop just to see if I can get here in one shot.
"So you came all his way, just to have dinner with me?"
"And give you flowers," he said offering the bouquet to Maggie.
"You're such a goofball, Harry. They're beautiful. You shouldn't have."
Transfigured is more like it, but it was another secret. He'd been trying to explain his grid date to Dobby when the elf's eyes became larger than normal and the little guy said, "Why doesn't the great and powerful Harry Potter apparate to his lady friend?"
Winky nodded and recommended he bring flowers.
"Of course I should have. Now where do you want to go and eat?"
Maggie gestured to her attire, sweatpants and a Cap U sweatshirt. "I need to change before we go anywhere. C'mon in."
Harry greeted Maggie's aunt as his girlfriend put the flowers in a vase and dashed down the hallway to get dressed. One of the twins was at a glass desk, reviewing material on the sheet of electronic paper in her hand while speaking to a person in a grid session. She smiled at Harry, so that meant it was Kelsey. Sue hadn't gotten past the vomiting incident and didn't seem to like him very much. Her scorn brought back memories of his last few years at school.
Ah the good old days, back when people thought I was a deranged lunatic. I guess addled moron is a step up.
As far as twins go, Harry's experience was limited to Fred and George Weasley and the two Patils. Sue and her sister seemed more like Parvati and the Ravenclaw girl who's name escaped him at the moment than the "finish each other's sentences" types.
"Hey Harry!" the tall blonde waved and quickly went back to her study group. Maggie had told him Kelsey intended to be a teacher and Sue was pursuing a career in social work. Sue also minored in being an arse.
Padma! Parvati's sister's name was Padma! I can't believe I forgot that!
Maggie's aunt asked him if he wanted a drink. Harry accepted and sat down. The woman talked to him slowly, no doubt believing the story of him being a bit slow.
At least it's not like the Dursleys, he thought. These people mostly ignore me and are kind. They were my relatives and neglected me out of spite.
Minutes passed before Maggie returned from her bedroom in a black dress that she'd told him she wore to clubs. Harry still felt like a prude in his society. Wisely, he chose to say nothing; besides Maggie gave him no reason not to trust her and it did look rather smashing on her.
"Third Prophet is in town and they're doing a set at a place downtown. I was going to go and see them tomorrow night, but since you're here and you need to get out more, let's go! If you want to grab a bite to eat, we'd better spool our jump coils."
Harry understood her words, but knew he was still a long way from using slang in a way that didn't reinforce the opinion that he was mentally challenged. He was, but for a vastly different reason.
"Third Prophet? Oh that band you like. Got it."
Other than catching a band called Def Leppard with Sirius during his time on the run with both his godfather and Dumbledore, he'd never been to a concert. That had been at a building packed full of almost two thousand screaming fans. Somehow, Harry doubted this would be nearly as good.
Maggie insisted on paying for their food when Harry reached for his cubits. He let her because money seemed to be a very sore spot with her, probably a result of that whole group family thing that Harry still had a hard time grasping.
(*-*-*)
Third Prophet left his ears feeling like he'd been hit with a concussion hex. They made up for their lack of skill by playing really loud. Some of the songs he'd actually heard before, but from other bands.
"What did you think of their original song?"
"Star Goddess' Lament? It was decent. Besides, it's only sixty-three percent original. Why is that important?"
Actually, it was heinous, but I know better than to say something bad about one of her favorite bands.
"You don't know a thing about music do you?"
"Not a bit," he answered proudly.
"Songs have to be rated as sixty percent original for it to be called an original song. Otherwise it's a cover. They use some big database that compares it to all the other songs that have ever been written."
"Oh," Harry said. Where he came from rock and roll had only been around for a four or five decades. This civilization was already traveling the stars when Godric and his associates decided to build a school in Scotland.
"So, do you still like working at the reclamation center?"
Harry smiled and replied, "It's probably the best job I can get right now until I pass the tests and get my certificate, so it's okay. When I'm not on the grid studying, I give the day shift guys a hand and they show me how to fix stuff, but I can't see myself doing it forever."
The men at the shop were pretty shocked at how good Harry was at fixing things. If he ever made it back to Earth he'd make a point of telling Professor Flitwick how underrated the Reparo charm was. His runes studies were now entering the practical phase, mostly because he'd run out of reading material and not that he was exceptionally gifted in the subject. On the other hand Gilderoy's Astounding Household Charms had turned out to be a very useful tome. He was becoming quite handy around his hidden greenhouse, much to Dobby's dismay.
"Still thinking about going out into space, finding Kobol and the thirteenth tribe?"
He nodded.
"The toasters are out there," she said in a teasing voice.
"I'll make sure to get my Goldkiller badge before I go. That'll scare them. I've started going to the Sixth Street Gaming Hall. The grid connection at the reclamation center is bad. Some of the kids there talked me into playing Goldkiller again. It's not as fun without you."
Maggie laughed. "I'm sure that will scare the toasters all the way to the other side of the galaxy. You'll have to let me design your ship when I finish my degree."
"Deal," he said, as they reached the station. "Thanks for showing me a good time, even if I may have lost hearing in one of my ears."
"Thanks for coming to see me," she said and kissed him. "It was really a sweet surprise. Do you want me to wait with you for your train?"
"It's only a few minutes," he said. "Besides, I really need to go to the bathroom."
"Okay, send me a message when you get back to Delphi."
He nodded. Technically, he could do it in a couple of minutes, but that would be difficult to explain.
(*-*-*)
"How's Mr. Cute but Clingy?" Kelsey asked. "He reminds me of that puppy Shane had."
"Be nice," Maggie said. "We had a good time."
"I am being nice. Actually, I'm jealous. I have a hard enough time getting a guy to come across town for a date and here you got one that'll spend hours on a train just to hang out with you. Whatever you've got, you should bottle it and sell it."
"Yeah, that'd be nice. I just worry that he's starting to have unrealistic expectations of where this is headed."
Kelsey laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. "So where is it headed? Do you need to consult an Oracle?"
"I don't really know Kel," Maggie said, with a fleeting sense of irritation. "He's really thoughtful. I keep thinking about breaking up with him, but when I am around him, it feels good. He even told me he liked the band tonight when he obviously didn't."
"Aw, I think I want to vomit. Oh, check your messages, I saw one from Shane flashing on your screen. I may have resisted the urge to read it. Then again, maybe not."
Maggie smiled at that and raced upstairs. Looks like I get my dose of bad boy to counterbalance Harry's good boy.
(*-*-*)
"Based on your latest assessment scores, you're still four years away from entering high school," Nancy Edmondson said. "But I don't want that to discourage you, Harry. You've made so much progress. You' have really come so far."
"Thank you," he replied. "I learn better by doing than just looking at videos."
Internally, he added, or writing foot after foot of essays on parchment. Despite her busy schedule, Maggie's mother always made time for him when he stopped by for speech therapy.
"Are you still enjoying the reclamation center? Mr. Kelso says that you're doing a good job."
"I try my best. I am learning a lot about fixing things from the men who work there and the customers."
"I'm very happy to hear that," she replied. "You seem to be adjusting really well to the outside world. Now that we've covered your progress; how are things with Maggie? You talk to her more than I do."
"Her classes are taking up more of her time," Harry said. "We see each other on the grid every couple of days. She is coming back for the break."
His second surprise visit hadn't gong as well as the first one. Maggie had a presentation due and seemed less than pleased. She'd asked him to stop doing that until after the break.
Nancy laughed. "She's always been brilliant and coasted on her intellect. I don't think she believed me when I said that wouldn't cut it at the university level."
It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Maybe she needs to learn by doing too."
"In this case, I think you're right. Alright, let's talk about socializing with friends your own age. What do you do when you're not working or studying?"
Harry shrugged. He knew Nancy wouldn't like the answer. "I've been playing on the grid. I take my grid box down to the gaming hall since the connection at the reclamation center isn't all that great, so I meet people there and online. I met this one kid named Freddie. His parents moved here from Libra. He's a good kid."
"That's a start, Harry. But the grid is not necessarily a nice place and there a people who prey on grid users who don't have enough world experience. I want you to be extra careful with your interactions. Maggie told me that your avatar looks like you do. On one hand, it shows that you are comfortable with the person you are. However, that shows the people you are playing with exactly who you are."
"I stick to games and don't go into the private rooms," Harry tried to explain. "I am even playing in a tournament tomorrow with my friend Freddie. I think it's going to be fun."
(*-*-*)
"Seventy-two will enter! Only one has the chance to walk away with tonight's first place purse of Three hundred and fifty cubits! This is a regional level two qualifier. All gaming systems will be scanned before and after the tournament. Anyone found with a hack or banned modification software will find themselves disqualified and the newest name on the banned list."
Harry connected his grid box to the receptacles on the table in front of him. He looked around, trying to scope out the competition. About a dozen teenagers dressed with in similar jackets occupied a pair of tables and making lots of noise.
"Who are those guys?" Harry asked Freddie, the twelve year-old, who was one of the few locals he regularly spoke too. The young boy from the Libra colony walked with a slight limp from being in a vehicle accident a few years ago. Harry thought Nancy would approve.
"They're a gaming clan. I think they're from around Cap City. All of them are playing on Enigma 7's. Buncha rich frakkers if you ask me. They travel around and pay at all the big tournaments. They were here last year. We'll want to steer clear of them if they're going to be a squad."
"Well, everyone in this tournament is a Goldkiller, so it should be interested … I mean interesting." The entry fee was ten cubits. The three hundred and fifty cubit prize was almost equal to his entire monthly salary from the junkyard. Freddie had talked him into entering after Harry had finally nailed "Goldie."
Academically, they were on roughly the same level. Freddie didn't have a very good connection at his home either, so he frequented the gaming hall as well, but "Gimpy" was a tough player and the two of them planned to stick together as long as they could, hopefully up to the inevitable betrayal when the survivors of the virtual trek through a cylon basestar turned on each other until only one remained to face the Goldie alone.
The lights on each station clicked to green indicating all the gridboxes had passed the security check. If anyone was cheating, they were better than the first scan. Harry pulled out his chair and sat down, grabbing the glasses connected to the unit and prepared to enter the virtual world.
"If not me, then you," Freddie said and gave Harry a high five.
"Right back at you," Harry replied.
The colors swirled and his world reset. Harry's clothes changed into his avatar's plain military garb with extra empty holsters and a backpack. Gimpy would go for a heavy weapon and Harry agreed to carry some extra ammunition for him.
Gimpy popped into existence next to him as the seventy other players entered the staging area. The transport they rode bucked and shook as it began its descent while the fake Marine lieutenant screamed out the mission parameters. The condensed version was get in, kill toasters, and keep killing them until there ain't no frakkng more.
Part of the game was customizing the avatars. Every single member of that Cap City gaming clan had B.A. Huskers emblazoned inside a pyramid as a unit insignia. Harry never bothered with doing that.
"Burning Riddle? You ready to get some?" Gimpy asked. Harry had named his avatar in these fight games The Burning Riddle. Everyone thought it was some type of play on words and a derivative of the phrase, "The Burning Question."
If they knew the actual origin of the name involved Harry burning alive a monster, who had once been a man with that name, they'd question their association with Harry.
"Yeah, let's take down some toasters," he replied waiting for the door to open and his pistol to activate. The adrenaline started to kick in, but Harry fought back and cleared his mind. He wasn't just playing for fun here. He needed clarity and purpose.
The LT finished his "for the glory of the colonies, follow me to victory" speech and bolted down the ramp as soon as it lowered, leading the charge. All the pistols activated as a hail of toaster bullets ripped the officer to shreds. Long time players looked at how the fake man died for a clue where they had landed.
"Landing Bay Six!" One of the Husker's shouted. "Scoot and shoot up the left flank!"
"Aw look," Freddie said in a fake whiny voice. "Their avatars match and they talk like they're real soldiers. I'm so impressed!"
In passing, Harry was actually impressed. Even during his time as a seeker, he'd admired the precise work of the beaters and the chasers.
Some followed that group, Harry and Freddie went down the ramp and off to the right side taking a position behind a damaged raider that the landing craft had pushed aside during the landing. Two others were already there, one crawled up to the viewports and jammed his pistol into the opening. In rapid succession, the female emptied her clip at the centurions inside.
"Clear!" She said. Her uniform was some kind of floral print that was difficult to look at and even harder to ignore. The floating letters just overhead identified her as Lady Rose 6478. Her partner was another female going by the handle Strobelight. Her avatar's clothes fluctuated between various bright colors.
"Ladies," Freddie said while butting up to the landing skid and firing his weapon. "Fine day for a toaster rampage."
"Form a quad?" Strobelight offered.
"With those rich kids running around, I think you're onto something. So say we all," Freddie answered.
Harry was busy targeting a cylon running along an overhead causeway. With a sniper rifle, it would be an easy shot, but pistols weren't meant for this use. Even so, he waited for a second and squeezed off three in succession. Two hit and it was enough to send the robot over the railing and plummeting to doom.
"Freaky shot, Riddle!" Freddie said and turned to the women. "I swear by the Gods! He barely misses. It's like he was born under the grace of Artemis. I'm going for a Model 9 in the armory. Riddle's carrying my ammo and watching my back. Hubu?"
Hubu was gamespeak for "How about you?" Harry was still having enough problems with the lingo that he didn't bother trying.
"Sniper and Big Bang," Strobelight said. Big Bang meant grenade launcher.
"Mind hauling some grenade clips for me, sugar?" Rose dropped down next to Harry.
He smiled. "Got you covered. Grab a box of pistol grenades for me."
"I will," she said and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Let's move out!"
Harry paused, still unused to the lack of boundaries in the virtual reality, recalling the one game in the corridor maze level where he wandered into a pair at a junction doing anything but resting.
Of course Rose could be a guy for all I know, Harry thought and involuntarily gagged at the notion. Realizing he was in danger of falling behind, he zig zagged under the wing and paused by the engine manifold. Another player raced down a different row and was hit by a toaster's weapon discharge.
"Aw, Frak me!" the player screamed as he derezed. The kid's pistol and ammo belt dropped to the deckplates. It was embarrassing to be killed on the opening level and the kid would probably take no end of shit for it.
Someone else scooped up the kid's weapon before Harry could decide whether or not he wanted to sprint over and get it. Pistol picking was a time honored tradition in the game. Someone dressed like Harry with extra holsters usually drew cautious glances. They could be an ammo donkey or a player killer, an assassin who collected the pistols of the players they killed and was more concerned with how my avatars they eliminated instead of actually winning.
Harry wasn't especially fond of the PKs in the game, but that wasn't usually a problem in the early levels.
Advancing, he stopped behind an empty raider and spared a look at the left side. The Husker squad was meticulously efficient and already well ahead.
"We've gotta hustle if we want some of the better weapons," Strobelight said and darted to the next area of cover. There were a set number of weapons in each locker and if you didn't you'd be stuck with only pistols until the armory at the end of the next level.
Harry actually liked the pistols and could care less. He sniped another centurion and reloaded before following the rest of his quad.
Several others had also seen how far ahead the Husker squad was and tried to close the gap. Harry acquired his first spare pistol as a result from some player named JizzButter because of the pace.
The deep booming voice of the in game announcer came from everywhere at once. "Level complete! Armory now open! One minute until the next level begins."
Harry ran to keep up as his three players raced ahead to get into the compartment to get whatever weapons they could. A pair of Huskers exited with two Model 9 Heavy Assault Rifles meaning Freddie would have to settle for something else until the next level.
Slowing Harry looked for signs of trouble from the players who had already armed themselves when the compartment his quad ran into exploded and the active player count dropped from sixty-seven to thirty-nine.
"Huskers Rule!" a dozen voices shouted in unison. One of them had spiked the armory, probably activating a grenade as they came out. Freddie, Strobelight, and Rose were gone. Harry was able to scoop up Rose's ammo belt and pistol before diving in to the billowing smoke and behind some crates.
Shit! Crap! Fuck and Frak! Harry thought. His strategy of working with Freddie went out the door and he was scrambling for a plan B.
Many of the remaining players shouted that was a "dick move" to do in a pay in tournament and gunfire erupted for the next fifteen seconds until the weapons deactivated so they could move to the start of level two.
The active player count had dropped to thirty-two and two of the Huskers were now among the missing. Harry quickly grabbed another pistol from a player who'd gone down in the ensuing melee.
"Smooth move jackasses! Keep it up and no one is going to win!" A disgruntled player shouted.
The leader of the Huskers, named Splatbag, tried to placate the remaining players. "You should be thanking us! We just narrowed the odds for you. How about a truce until the end of Level Three?"
Someone responded, "I got your truce right here you maggot!"
The doors opened to the centurion ready room. There wasn't nearly the amount of cover as in the landing bay and twenty percent more cylons. Players and toasters traded fire as Harry felt a round pass by him. It triggered his nerves and the mind calming chant in his head was broken for the moment. He could only scramble and react on instinct for the next minute until he made it to better cover, a large steel beam that he could tuck in behind. The Huskers were cutting through the toasters with ease and the benefit of heavy weaponry. Their main problem was now the other disgruntled players sniping at them.
Harry was pinned down for the moment and had to wait for others to take out the opposition.
Breathe Harry! C'mon! You can do this! You can still win! Those Huskers? They're just like Malfoy's quidditch squad, all the best toys! All you have to do is catch the snitch and beat them with skill.
In the recesses of his brain, he started the chant again to clear his mind. Occlumency began filtering out the distractions and the frantic movements and shouts were still there, but less important. Sticking the pistol around the corner, he sighted a robot and fired twice, scoring two hits.
Back in the zone.
As the robotic enemy diminished. The players took to sniping at each other with increased fury and several of Harry's competitors exited the game. He moved from his position, trying to get close to the ammo locker and finish off the cylons. That would be the easiest way to stop the current scrum. With two loaded pistols, Harry advanced and fired in rapid succession.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a Husker tracking his movements with a Model 9, but the player decided to help him and provide covering fire instead of eliminate him. Instead, the man covered his advance with well-timed burst of rifle fire.
"Level complete! Armory now open! One minute until the next level begins."
Harry was the third one into the Armory. He immediately grabbed two boxes of pistol grenades and a dozen pistol clips as others went for heavier weaponry. Harry grabbed a first aid kit as well, knowing it might come in handy later. The Husker who helped him entered. Harry saw his avatar name was Splatbag.
Splatbag looked at Harry's four pistols and empty backpack. "You carrying for anyone? Lost my mule back there to some not-so friendly fire."
"You took care of my quad at the last armory with your little stunt," Harry said as they ran into the armory.
"It's a game. It happens. Back to the matter at hand, got room for me?"
Mulling it over, Harry said, "Yeah, I have room."
Easier to run behind the people with the big guns.
"Thanks. Sticking with pistols? That's a ballsy strategy, especially in a tourney." Splatbag tossed him clips for the Model 9 and Harry caught them with the open backpack.
"Always ammo available," Harry replied. "I'm full."
"Yeah," Splatbag continued grabbed three more clips to carry on his own. "But pistols are pretty lame."
"Might grab something later, but works for now."
Someone shouted. "Ten seconds! Move it Splat."
Harry followed the big man toting a Model 9 Heavy Assault Rifle. Either he didn't trust Harry or was hedging his bets in case someone decided to take out Harry and eliminate his ammo source. They made their way to the remaining members of the Husker gaming clan.
"Got yourself a new ammo mule, Splat? Burning Riddle, huh? Sure whatever." An olive skinned woman with the handle of Silkybear said. She had a scoped sniper rifle. Another woman and one man stood next to her. One with a carbine and the other carrying a light machine gun. Watching the rest of the players to ensure no one was plotting betrayal was the other player who carried a Model 9.
Harry spent the last few seconds loading fresh clips into his pistols and shoving pistol grenades into each undercarriage launcher. Some of the stronger opponents almost impervious to standard rounds.
"Yeah, new guy, Silky, FTEllen, Paperweight, Fireslide, and Hammerstrike. Guys, new guy. Try and keep up with us. I'm guessing we get the long hallway next." The basic game had over fifty different levels which were randomized. Custom levels could even be created. Harry really got a kick out of the one time he played the Olympia's Last Stand modification where the players had to defend a disabled battlestar against wave after wave of centurions.
The gates opened. Silky leveled her rifle and laughed. "Wrong again Baggy! Machine shop three, people!"
"On me," Splatbag directed. "Move like you mean it, Huskers!"
Harry followed the man with a pistol drawn, recalling how Freddie would laugh at the gamers who took their military jargon too seriously. Splatbag was fast and he obviously had memorized this level, but to the lost wizard from Earth it seemed too rehearsed and preplanned; almost lacking in instinct.
A real practice makes perfect kind of guy – Ollie Wood with all the drive but short in the talent department. They probably drill on each level.
Even so, Harry struggled to keep up with the weight of the ammo and he was forced to admit that their tactics were effective. They played an up tempo game forcing the remaining players to chase them or not reach the next armory before time expired. His new partner hunkered next to a large machine. Splatbag popped around the corner and emptied his weapon. "Reload! Three still moving. Keep them from advancing."
Harry flipped the man a clip and was prepared to pop around the corner, but the impacts of the rounds ricocheting off the metal made him thing twice because of the cylon suppressing fire. Guessing the Husker way would be to wait for the rest of the squad to catch up and flank the robots as a unit, Harry had a few tricks of his own that he'd used on this level before. He hopped up on the ledge of the machine and jumped up on the piping catching himself with both hands. Releasing his right, he drew a pistol and hung there with one arm. The angle let him see through the gap in the machinery and he saw two of the cylons covering the corner, waiting for the next human to emerge. The cycling red eye shifted and one of the centurions tilted its head seeing him.
Too late, sucker!
As the toaster raised its rifle, he jammed the pistol into the gap, and depressed the inner trigger that fired the grenade. The explosion wasn't enough to hurt either Harry or the Husker below, but the toasters were good and frakked.
"They won't advance now," Harry said, rather smugly and dropped back to the deck plates.
Splatbag nodded to him and sprayed around the corner, to ensure they were finished. "Nice move. Might have to steal that one."
"Only can be done with a pistol," Harry said. "Trust me on that. Do you want to go forward or hold here for a moment?"
"No guts, no glory is what I always say."
Harry chuckled. "Skip the glory and keep my guts inside of me is how I would answer that."
"Sounds like something my godfather would say," the Husker replied and started moving. "Coker's a real surly one."
"I like him already," Harry said after clearing a lump in his throat at the mention of a godfather.
"He doesn't like anyone," Splatbag continued. "Says he tolerates me out of respect for my dad."
Harry picked off another toaster who had climbed on top of a metal container.
"Another really good shot there, friend. I saw a few on the second level as well," his teammate said. "I'll be curious if your gridbox scans clean at the end of this. Are you running a boost? Might as well go ahead and tell me."
The player was referring to a cheat program that provided an in game assist.
"All they are going to find is that I am a really good shot. They know me around here."
"So you're from around Delphi?"
"Actually I'm from Earth," Harry answered with a grin, finally beginning to feel comfortable for the first time since Freddie and the other two got blown up. He liked giving that particular answer in the gaming world to see people's reactions.
Splatbag opened up on a trio of cylons who entered their row. "Very funny, smartass. I was about to say that you might be good enough to be a Husker."
"Thanks, I guess. Do you guys have a secret handshake or something?"
Splatbag used his hand to convey a rude gesture. "How's that for one?"
"I see that one all the time. Your group must be bigger than I thought."
As they continued to clear the level, Harry found he enjoyed talking junk with the leader of the Huskers. In the virtual world, Harry's words flowed much better than when his holoband glasses were off.
(*-*-*)
"Frak it all!" Silkybear screamed when the three-headed cylon tank's weapon blast took out FTEllen. "I just lost the rest of my ammo!"
Two of the heads on the vehicle still worked, one controlling the machine gun and the other the main cannon.
She'd switched from the sniper rifle to a red reaper flamethrower on the last level. The tyllium tanks for that were ridiculously heavy and Harry had already given her the one he'd pulled along for her, glad to be rid of the weight. He'd been through a real virtual workout today. Maybe next time he played, he'd go with the sniper rifle and tell anyone who wanted him to carry to frak off.
"Guess, there is nothing left but ..."
The barrel of the flamethrower turned toward Harry, but he put two rounds into the woman before she could torch.
"The inevitable betrayal has begun! Only one can claim the title of Goldkiller" The in-game announcer voice bellowed. It was set to go off whenever the first player on player death happened on this level.
Splatbag looked over from his spot where he'd been silencing the second head and slid around the other side of the barricade. Harry had seen him grab extra clips in preparation for the final shootout with Goldie after they finished Cerebus. There were no more armories to resupply at this point, so you had to eliminate your competition, the cylon tank, and the gold centurion with whatever you had left.
Harry had seen the tank in the war archives, and yes there had been such a vehicle. Each head controlled a different facet of the vehicle. It made him wonder how a real one would stand up to his blasting curse.
"Not very sporting to shoot a lady like that. Especially my girlfriend," the sole remaining Husker yelled. "Slide me a mag!"
"She was going to roast me," Harry retorted and slid a mag halfway across the gap separating the two.
"Oh, dick move there Burning Riddle! There's still one head active, or you think you can take it, me, and Goldie down with those little peashooters?"
Harry quoted Maggie. "My girlfriend says large weapons are just a guy's way of overcompensating."
She also followed that up by saying, "So let's overcompensate more than they are." If her avatar could carry an artillery piece, she'd have tried to use it.
"So, do you still have to go to the bathroom?" Harry called out, fighting back the adrenaline. He needed precision against both Splatbag and the one remaining tank head. Losing so many players so early had drawn out the match, and that now gave Harry a certain advantage.
"Like my Gods-Damned kidneys are about to burst! But there is no way I'm letting you get the win that easy.
"Wear diapers next time!"
Splatbag tossed a cable with something tied the end of it and pulled the clip in as Harry backed away and crawled on all fours, trying to put some distance between them.
"What was that?" Harry yelled.
"Magnet. You can grab them back in the machinery rooms from the blue lockers. Little bit of cable you can get from just about anywhere."
"Handy bit of info there, Baggy."
"I try Riddle. So are we finishing the machine gun head first or is it go time? I thought for sure you'd grab something better at the final armory."
His avatar name was beginning to annoy him. Being called Riddle might not have been the best thought out plan.
"Your girl drew on me. I say finish the head. Deal?"
"So say we all!"
Harry loaded two of his six pistols with grenades. He was off a smidge with the first shot and was down and to the right of where he needed to hit.
"So you do occasionally miss? Getting tired?"
"Of listening to your mouth, frak yeah!"
Splatbag managed to take down the third head with a sustained burst from his Model 9 and immediately emptied the remainder of the clip at Harry, who barely dived out of the way.
Announcer voice chimed in, "Cerebus has been defeated! The Gold Centurion awaits the hero of the Twelve Colonies."
"Nice playing with you!" Splatbag shouted.
"You too," Harry said pulling out the tape from the first aid kit he'd grabbed. He strapped a pistol to a two foot long piece of metal pipe nearby. "Need another couple of clips? Just stand up and I'll toss them to you."
"I'm good! But load and holster your pistol there Riddle," his opponent shouted. I'll take it with me to Goldie so you feel like you're part of my victory."
It was a courtesy to your opponent, a passing nod to honor in a game built to encourage treachery.
He taped the pipe and pistol to the side of a barricade leaving the just the tip just barely exposed and viewable before crawling on his belly to another position.
Sure enough, thirty seconds later, Splatbag's own pistol popped over the top of the decoy barricade and sprayed a full clip of bullets and a pistol grenade.
Harry rolled from his hiding spot and fired at the prone figure with two pistols.
"Crap!" Harry heard. It was followed by blaring music and the announcer's voice.
"Final player remaining!"
Climbing to his feet, Harry dusted himself off and breathed a long sigh of relief. Mentally, he was exhausted. He'd played quidditch matches that were less demanding than this! Walking to where the leader of the Huskers pistol had fallen, he picked it up and reloaded it. He also grabbed FTEllen's. Silkybear's he left, since she had tried to kill him before the second head was dead - something Harry considered a breach of etiquette.
"How lame are pistols now? C'mon you Huskers," he said and smiled, loading pistol grenades and then holstering the trophy weapons. "I have six grenades ready and it takes five to win. Let's go kill us a Goldie!"
(*-*-*)
The crowd around the judges' table watched in anticipation for the scans on the gridboxes to complete. Silkybear would get her ten cubit entry fee returned. Splatbag would net fifty cubits for his second place finish and Harry was set to receive the first place prize of three hundred and fifty cubits.
"Wow! You use your own body as an avatar! Don't see that much," the young woman next to him said. "You had some mighty good reflexes you have their Burning Riddle. Way too good if you ask me."
A few of the others in the crowd agreed with her statement, but his friend, Freddie defended Harry. "I've played with him several times and the dude is just that good. Don't hate the player, hate that he's better than you!"
Freddie wasn't really helping Harry win over any new friends.
"I don't cheat," Harry stated.
"We'll see soon enough," Silky replied.
She wasn't quite the statuesque, raven haired beauty from the game, but her Husker gaming clan jacket nametag read Silkybear. She was pretty rather than gorgeous. Harry also noted that Rose and Strobelight were girls but the oldest of the two was maybe thirteen.
"What you see is what you get. I'll be fine. Good game both of you," Harry responded to the young woman and the pony tailed wearing blonde next to her who was the real FTEllen. "Where's Splatbag? Did he make it to the bathroom?"
"Yeah," Ellen replied, in a more friendly tone than her fuming gaming clan teammate. "Probably wouldn't have made it if he had to fight Goldie. I saw on your avatar you finished Cylon Strike. That must've taken some serious dedication. Was the ending any good?"
"It was more for my girlfriend. I was the tail gunner, but the game was pretty cool."
A frown crossed Ellen's face, and Harry wondered if it was because he said he had a girlfriend.
"Oh that must be him now," Harry said seeing a person in a Husker jacket pushing his way closer.
The young man was swarthy and muscular, with a distinct Tauron heritage showing through. He wasn't that much different than his avatar, but enough. On Earth, Harry would have pegged the man for a rugby player.
"Gods that feels better! Are they finished scanning?"
Silky said and gestured at Harry with her thumb, "Not yet. Just waiting for his cheating to be confirmed, so you can get what you earned."
Splatbag studied at Harry. "I wouldn't count on it, Tracy. If he is cheating, he's smart enough to have something they can't detect. If he isn't cheating, well I wouldn't want to keep accusing him of it and get my own virtual assassin chasing me from game to game on the grid."
"Good point, Z-man," Silky said and gave her boyfriend a kiss. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt … for now."
"If it bothers you that much miss," Harry offered. "Next time we are playing in the same room, let me use your fancy gridbox and you can use my old piece of junk."
Tracy glanced at Harry's Enigma 4 on the judge's stand and shook her head.
A hearty cheer went up, reminding Harry of his quidditch days as the lights all turned green. True he had been playing with an advantage, but he doubted any cheat detection program could pick up a trained Occlumens. From Harry's standpoint, it wasn't even really cheating. That branch of mind magic was a practiced skill and not a spell. Clearing his mind allowed for a level of clarity few could match. Winning money this way felt cleaner than selling drugs. He hoped he could ease himself out of that lifestyle sooner rather than later. It just felt seedy, but at the moment, he needed all the cubits he could get his hand on. This one also had people cheering for him and not sneering at him while handing over a paltry pile of cubits.
Silkybear flushed, proven wrong, which sort of made the victory slightly sweeter as Freddie thumped him on the back and made a point of saying how he told her several times.
"Yeah. That's what I thought. Well Riddle," Splatbag said and thrust out his hand. Hearing him say it convinced Harry that he would need to change his avatar's name. "Either you have a really good cheat program or you are a frakking awesome player. Either way is okay with me. I've only ever heard of people going all the way with just pistols but never thought I'd see it, especially in a tournament. Helluva game! I seriously need to take you to a shooting range and see if you are really that good of a shot!"
Taking his hand the young wizard from Earth said, "My real name is Harry Potter. Great game."
"Zak Adama. Nice to meet you, Harry. Now how about you buy us dinner, and I'll give you the old Husker gamer's recruiting pitch? If you're going up to the Level Three Regional tournament, I want you in my clan."
"I'm not sure I like your terms," Harry said. "Shouldn't you be buying me dinner?"
"Fine, you can just buy me dinner. You don't have to buy the whole clan. They're a bunch of freeloaders and malcontents."
That prompted a round of indignant "heys" from the rest of the BA Huskers which Zak just laughed off good naturedly.
Zak seemed pretty cool, almost in a big man on campus way, and with Maggie in Cap City, Harry needed some more new friends. It reminded him of the good memories Harry had of Cedric Diggory and how the rest of Cedric's fellow Hufflepuffs followed him around.
Fortunately, there's no Triwzard Tournament on the horizon, Harry thought and agreed to listen to Zak's spiel and only pay for his and Freddie's dinners.
Author's Note – Another chapter down. Harry has made a new friend. Chapter 15 is done and being edited. It won't be posted until Chapter 16 is ready. So, who here would want to play Goldkiller?
