Colin sat on the grass near the playing fields with his back to a sturdy oak, seemingly deep in contemplation. In reality, he had a free period and should be revising but instead he was following a heated HeroNet debate over the Trouble Alert channel on his earpiece.
Normally he should only have had unlimited access to that particular channel when he was actively being mentored by the London Watch but Chris had ‘insisted’ on unlocking his comms suite’s full potential for him and he hadn’t ‘wanted’ to say no… At present, there was a vigorous discussion happening about whether two different series of crimes occurring over the last few months might be related.
The first lot of crimes had been a series of impossible locked room thefts from supposedly impenetrable vaults, which had taken place across the South of England over the last two months. On three occasions, the thefts had also resulting in the death; some would say execution, of the owners. Several of the HeroNet community had noticed another pattern in that all the thefts had been from violent criminals who’d previously escaped prosecution from the law. In each the thefts had been from locked security vaults and often what was stolen was not known, publicly at least, though the list of what had been revealed so far showed an eclectic mix of ancient artefacts and experimental technology. Any cameras in the vaults had mysteriously stopped working while the crime had occurred. None of the guards were killed, though several of them had found themselves rendered unconscious while the crimes were being committed. However, any owners present in the vaults at the time hadn’t been so lucky. An unrifled bullet, Russian-made specifically for a Glock 17, had in every occasion, been used to execute them with a single shot to the back of their heads from some distance away.
The other series of disappearances and murders were apparently unconnected as far as the Police were concerned. No thefts and no sealed rooms were involved, instead at least eight people had been kidnapped over the last couple of months all of whom had been believed to have committed murder or lived a life of criminality though insufficient evidence had ever been found to charge any of them. In each occasion, the person had been kidnapped, always without any witnesses and their bodies subsequently found miles away several days later executed. The deaths had been from a multiple of causes including beheading but two of them had been shot. The connection in the latter case was that the bullets that had finally killed them had been fired from a Glock 17 pistol.
The Police hadn’t released any details about the weapon, ammunition or styles of execution but it was amazing how much unrevealed Police evidence ended up being revealed on this encrypted channel, though he knew the information wasn’t always accurate or trustworthy.
As he focused on the comments and enthusiastic discussion, he suddenly saw something small and metallic out of the corner of his eye, glittering, ploughing its way through the air and went to dodge. Three bullets hit the tree less than a second apart, splattering his neck and shoulders with splinters from the tree. The bullet holes on the trunk framed where his head had been a second before, the last one had been so close that it had also nicked his ear causing it to bleed profusely. He threw himself flat and felt the blood streaming down the back of his neck. His poor earlobe seemed destined to be a target. He staunched the blood with a hankie and looked around. Nothing. The shots had come from Raven’s Wood, seemingly fired from the direction of the treehouse, a distance of at least two hundred metres.
He reached up and cautiously examined the bullet holes in the trunk of the tree while trying to remain hidden in the long grass. He considered trying to retrieve one of the bullets but that might mean allowing his attacker to escape. The bullets were too well framed around where his head had been for this not to have been a professional giving him a warning rather than an attempt on his life; no, this was to get his attention and it had succeeded.
He set off running towards the treehouse. He knew he should be contacting the staff and let them know there was someone armed and very dangerous on the school grounds, but as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from his earlobe, he knew that this was now personal. The only thing he regretted was not being costumed up under his school uniform.
Despite assuring himself that the shots had been to get his attention rather than kill him (it was his own reaction that had resulted in him moving into the line of fire of the last bullet), he wasn’t planning on taking any chances as he dodged and weaved his way towards the treehouse. If he was correct, the trajectory of the shots indicated they had been fired from the spiral steps that led to the treehouse 20 metres up in the canopy.
There was no one else present when Colin arrived, unless they were hiding inside the shadows of the shelter at the top… Again, he considered very briefly using his earpiece to contact Camille who oversaw the school’s security but his curiosity won out. Slowly he climbed the spiral staircase to the platform located under the tree canopy, noting the hundreds of sets of initials and conjoined love hearts students had carved into the bannister, tree trunk and walls of the treehouse over the years. In fact, Colin’s own initials were also carved here, though in his case they were on the roof, placed there to show his daring do when he’d first arrived. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he threw himself down flat onto the steps, peered over the edge and saw that the platform and shelter were completely empty. He stood upright and walking over stepped inside the shelter.
His attacker had obviously already left and taken the shell casings with them. Why had they targeted him though?
Inside the shelter, he found a printed set of rules for the Killer Game. He knew that Killer or Assassin was a live-action game in which players try to eliminate one another using mock weapons, in an effort to become the last surviving player. It was banned at the school but Colin knew that the game was particularly popular at universities, some even having dedicated “Assassins’ Guild” societies, which organised games for their members. Gameplay could occur at all hours and in all places unless otherwise disallowed by the rules. Since an elimination attempt could occur at any time, successful players were obliged to develop a certain degree of watchful paranoia. Thankfully, that was Colin’s normal state of mind.
He turned over the rules and on the back was a printed note, which read, “Survive the next 24 hours and you’ll be immune from any further attempts on your life. There are five people in this game; all are targets including you and me. Run and hide if that is what you want but we will find you. Alternatively kill your opponents before they kill you and perhaps you might survive.”
Below were four names including his own – beside which was the school’s address and a note that included his father’s name and stated that he’d murdered him…
When his father had been killed there had been a rumour circulated around the London Underworld that Colin had assassinated him for his mother who then planned to take over his criminal empire for herself. It didn’t help that even then Colin had been getting trained up as a child assassin and his mother’s spiteful nature made it easy to pitch the idea of him as a weapon controlled by his vengeful mother. It had been a deliberate ploy by Mystery of course, to paint his mother as the Black Widow-type and him as her instrument of death so that his father’s crew would choose Mystery’s leadership over their own. Why had this resurfaced now though? Had his taking down Mystery’s fight clubs been uncovered and this was her revenge?
There were three other names on the list; a Joey Tiamente located in Dragon’s Gate alongside which was a statement that he had tortured and killed several people and below that was listed a Karen Schofield, a lawyer at the Cabot, Cunningham & Crowley law firm. Her crime was apparently manufacturing evidence and alibis to get murderers free. The last was a Gabriel Slade of no known address. His crimes were that he was a professional thief and assassin. The note was signed ‘The Gamesmaster’.
He’d just finished reading when it suddenly burst into flames. Without thinking, he dropped it to the floor and tried to stamp out the flames but when he looked not even ashes remained. They had to have used magicians’ flash paper.
Just then, he heard a noise coming from the stairs leading up to the treehouse and he looked over the balcony to see what had made the sound.
Below he could see a man in an ornate lion mask armed with a drawn sword both of which had an oriental look about them, climbing the stairs towards him. He spotted Colin and screamed, “Kuài lái mǎnzú nín de mìngyùn, wǒ jiāng réncí ér yòu xùnsù. Rúguǒ wǒ hái bùnéng yǒngyǒu Gamemaster, wǒ huì yǒngyǒu nǐ.” * whatever that meant. The way he was holding the sword double handed above his head seemed to indicate, it wasn’t a request for directions to the school office…
All Colin could think were the words of General Patton, “never let the enemy pick the battleground” yet here he was, supposedly trapped in his civilian personae, without his costume or toys at the top of a tree with his would-be attacker in control of the only safe way off… Damn!
Colin, of course, not only didn’t want to kill anyone, he also doesn’t want to see anyone else get killed in this perverted game. The involvement of a marksman who apparently referred to himself as the Gamesmaster also chimed uncannily with what he has just been overhearing, but for the moment it was a mystery to put to one side in the interests of survival.
He had one advantage so high off the ground and he intended to take full advantage of it; his training as an acrobat, well that and his having no fear of heights. He grabbed the outer frame of the shelter and swung himself out of the tree-house door and up onto its roof, at the same time calling down to the man with the sword, “Joey Tiamente, I presume?”
There was no reply. Colin’s plan was to try to use his acrobatic and athletic skills to stay out of reach of that sword, but always within hailing distance of its wielder, dodging any potential missile attacks as best he could. Time to use some conflict resolution and de-escalation techniques they had tried to teach him Down Below. “We don’t have to play this game, you know, it’s silly.” he shouted.
That got a response even if it was only a grunt. Colin continued, “Make much more sense for the four of us to get together to hunt down this madman who wants to jerk us around.”
The masked figure reached the wooden platform that the treehouse was built on and Colin got a clear look at his sword, an antique obviously but its design was unlike a katana in that the blade was straight and double-edged, the end of the blade was flat and chisel-tipped, not pointed. The handle was lacquered black and carved with what looked like Chinese symbols, not Japanese. Would it be worth trying to play the honour card?
“He said I killed my dad, but I know that’s not true, so I’m guessing maybe the crimes you were accused of are equally false?”
The masked figure spoke, surprisingly in clear English given what he was wearing, “It is better to be feared than respected.”
‘Joey’ swung his blade hard at the shelter, which severed the main wooden beam above the door with a single blow and the roof started to collapse in, tilting into the middle. It caused Colin to stumble and fall forward as he tried to pull himself out of reach again using a nearby branch. His attacker stabbed at him and his blade drew blood, slicing through his trouser leg and causing a flesh wound to his shin. Damn, first his blazer gets soaked in the blood from his cut earlobe and now this. He’d have to write home and ask for yet another school uniform and hope his mum didn’t ask why!
In a fit of anger, Colin kicked out, connecting with the mask and causing his attacker to fall back. ‘Joey’ managed however to grab Colin’s trousers as he fell and he started to pull Colin down with him even as Colin screamed, “Come on, let’s talk about this. Use your head, man!”
With his other leg, Colin kicked out catching his foot on part of the roof frame as he managed to stand up on one leg and grab at one of the branches. His trouser leg tore free and ‘Joey’ tumbled backwards stumbling and fell against the balustrade. He immediately clambered back onto his feet and again started to thrust wildly at Colin with the blade. Colin responded by swinging up off the roof and scampering through the branches, moving away from his attacker. ‘Joey’ began to clamber onto the roof after him as Colin tried to de-escalate the situation by pointing out, “If you kill me in public you really will be a wanted murderer.”
The figure stopped for a second and laughed, “They will find nothing to convict me, I am above the law…”, and rushed onto the roof. Colin had hoped he might be able to climb safely down the branches and then gradually lure his attacker towards the school or more populated areas in the hope that, if need be, someone would intervene to help him. No such joy, Joey’s sword cut through the branch he was holding onto and caused him to fall back onto the roof, within easy reach of that wicked blade. Without thinking Colin, kicked out at his attacker’s knee and was rewarded with a loud scream as he clearly caused major damage to the joint, he immediately swung his other foot round in a lopsided Mawashi Geri; reverse roundhouse kick to the head. It connected and caused Joey to fall backwards. Unfortunately (or possibly fortunately, Colin wasn’t inclined to wish good fortune on his attacker) it caused him to tumble off the roof, over the side of the treehouse and free-fall about ten metres onto the circular staircase below. He landed with a loud bang and a scream them proceeded to tumble uncontrollably down the stairs banging his head against the bannister several times and dropping the sword as he did so.
Colin hesitated for a moment then jumped off the roof onto the platform and started to chase after the tumbling body, only stopping to pick up his attacker’s abandoned sword as he passed. Joey’s obviously injured body came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and Colin hesitated for a second as to what to do next.
Then out of nowhere, a disconnected circle of darkness appeared in the air just behind the injured man. A pair of arms appeared out of the dark, grabbed the attacker in the lion mask and began to pull him backwards, into the darkness.
Colin had a brief glimpse inside the darkness for a split second and saw that it opened onto what looked like some sort of dark, unhealthy long corridor with misfitting, misshapen doors, leading who knew where.
“Gamesmaster?” Colin muttered as he stepped back and away from the scene in front of him even as the masked attacker was pulled with ease deeper inside the dark passageway. The man holding his attacker, wearing modern-looking body armour and a full modern-looking facemask laughed, “No, but don’t worry I’ll be back for you. Unlike the others in the game I revel in the hunt!” With that, the circle of darkness vanished with both men.
The last thing he heard was a scream that cut off suddenly as the darkness evaporated away.
Having missed his chance to dash into the portal to try to save Joey, Colin tried to make sense of what was going on. Seemingly neither of them had been this Gamesmaster person, so why had they targeted him first? He assumed Joey had thought he would be an easy target, easier than Karen Schofield? If, as he stated, the guy in the dark circle wasn’t the Gamesmaster, had he been targeting him, Joey or the Gamesmaster? Where was the Gamesmaster anyway, assuming it had been he that had shot at him and left him the note on the back of the set of rules?
He looked at his ripped trousers then took off his bloodied blazer and was happy to see that the blood had just darkened the material making it look as though it had just got wet. No real damage, just needed to get it dry-cleaned as soon as possible. The trousers were a write-off though. He couldn’t help feel that having one leg exposed from the knee down, had a definite Masonic feel about it. Thankfully, he still had a couple of spare pairs of school trousers in his room and he was sure Ant Andrews would be able to help him find a replacement jacket until his returned from the cleaners.
He looked at the strange sword and for a moment thought about hiding it in the nearby undergrowth but no, school would be ending soon and there was too much of a chance that one of the other inmates might find and start playing with it. He couldn’t take it back to his room, at least not at the moment, so he had to find a better hiding place for it.
Then it came to him, the brook known locally as the Curse or historically the Coven’s Curse, ran through Raven Wood for the most part underground before it merged with the River Mercia at the North-East edge of the school grounds, its water blood-red due to dissolving minerals in the rocks. Where the brook first came out of the ground it ran beneath the twisted roots of trees and brambles, which no one went near and that made it an ideal place to hide the sword until he could retrieve it.
He looked up at the damaged treehouse and for a split second considered reporting it then realised he would have to explain how it had happened and that was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. It would take too long and would result in him being grounded, no doubt. No, better that if anyone sees him like this that he was coming back from the direction of the Curse and not the damaged treehouse, especially with a ripped pair of trousers to explain away. He didn’t want to be blamed for the damage to the shelter as it really hadn’t been his fault.
Several minutes later, having securely hidden the antique sword in among the roots, he headed back to his room and managed to bypass the RA on duty, Maylee, without her seeing the mess he was in. Having reached his room, he slapped a bit of disinfectant and a large plaster on his shin and cleaned the blood off his earlobe. He then soaked the blood-splattered shoulder of his blazer in cold water to get some of the blood out before hanging it up to dry and waited for the last period of school to end so he could ask a favour of Chris.
He proceeded to put on his costume and then his tracksuit on top while he waited. Part of him knew the sensible thing to do would be to tell the teachers what had happened then go into protective custody Down Below until the 24 hours were up but if he did that what about the life of this Karen woman? She wasn’t a murderer, possibly not even a criminal and what if this was related to the eight executions he’d been listening to (or should that be eleven?) Had the other three been hiding in their vaults having received similar messages to his, only to also become the victims of this Gamesmaster?
As he heard the bell for end of school ring and the accompanying cheers of the liberated pupils as they headed out of classes, he called up Chris and asked him to run some secret research and relay the results to him via their comms-links. First though, he needed an excuse to leave the school grounds tonight. Could Chris fake an email to the school supposedly from Colin’s mum saying he needed to come home tonight due to a family emergency and send it to the school office?
He could almost hear Chris smiling as he accepted the challenge. Having supplied the details he would need, he then gave Chris the names from the list along with the vague ID of “Gamesmaster”, explaining briefly what was going on and asking Chris to start by finding a current location for Karen Schofield if he could. “I’m betting the armoured-guy who snaffled Joey is this Gabriel Slade, and he’ll likely be going after Karen before coming after me – in which case, if we are together I’ll be there when he arrives, and we can try to sort things out, try and get as many folk out of this alive as possible.”
Now all he wanted was to go get his bike and set off in pursuit of Karen. Unfortunately, inmates weren’t allowed to leave the school grounds on a school night without a pass from the office. Regrettably, when he got to the office and spoke to Ms Jennings there was no sign of the email and other than offering to phone his mother herself she was unwilling to agree to let him go off school grounds without a very good reason…
Preventing murders was a good reason, but not one he could share. He went outside and called Chris. “What happened? The email’s not arrived.” A very apologetic Chris’ spoke up, “I know, sorry. Seems the school A.I., you know the one I think is Navigator? Is blocking it. It’s all I can do to stop her tracing its origins back to me though I was able to make it look like it had been sent by someone playing a prank on you. Sorry mate, however the good news is I have an address for your Karen Schofield – 22 Blaise Mews, Wessex…”
“As for your Gamesmaster? He’s a bit of a reputation for taking out violent criminals, vigilantes and Metas using game themes. He once took on the Balance using an underground dungeon he’d built near to Richmond Park in the ruins of a deserted mill, which they went and blew up, making quite the mess. The general consensus is that he’s got a bit of a God complex especially when it comes to deciding who lives and who dies amongst his victims; sees himself as judge, jury and executioner. I’ve no other details on him.”
“As for Gabriel Slade, his name is linked to some high-powered thefts and assassinations particularly in Eastern Europe over the last five years, but when it comes to the law he’s made of Teflon, nothing sticks… There is no confirmation that his name is real, there are no photos of him, nothing. If you’re on his list though, he’ll come for you. You sure you don’t want me along as back up?”
Colin knew where Blaise Mews was, it was only a couple of streets away from The Commander’s Town house and he’d visited there a number of times over the years. OK, first things first he needed to get out of the school. For a few brief seconds he considered doing a remake of ‘The Great Escape’ on his bike over the far school wall. In the end, he decided to drive out through the front gates by putting one of the day tripper’s school buses between him and the gatehouse as they both drove through the school gates at the same time. He’d still be caught on CCTV but they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until he returned.
How he wished he had some sort of identity-changer for the bike, its own super-hero version of an instant repaint-job, but the best he could do was change the number plate before heading off, riding in the wake of the bus until they were passed the Reception Block then he opened her up and sped towards Wessex. He changed into Cadet as soon as he felt it was safe to pull over and do so.
As he jumped back on his bike as Cadet, he realised that It was pretty obvious that the armoured-guy, Slade was playing the game for real and was unlikely to be persuaded. As for the Gamesmaster there was no evidence that he kept his word though there was also no evidence he didn’t.
It was three quarters of an hour later before he pulled into the Victorian splendour that was Blaise Mews. 22 was a mid-terrace property with a long, well-tended garden to the rear. He parked up, took off his helmet and knocked on the front door only to hear a familiar click.
Without thinking, he back-flipped away landing in a crouch even as the front door exploded out in an onslaught of wood and glass due to being on the receiving end of a double blast from a 12-bore shotgun. Well, that would get someone locally calling the Police if nothing else.
He glanced through the partially demolished door and saw her put the shotgun down and pick up a spear gun, which she discharged in the general direction of the door. Again, he tried to duck but this time he wasn’t quite quick enough and the spear passed through the shattered remnants of the door and pierced his shoulder to a depth of a couple of centimetres, its weight caused him to stagger back before he pulled it free. Although no vital organs had been hit, the wound bled profusely and he knew he would need a couple of stitches to close the wound. In the meantime, he had to try not to swear aloud. His attacker had no such restraint, a torrent of foul language followed the discharge as he heard frantic scrambling as she obviously tried to reload the shotgun and accidentally dropped the cartridges in her haste…
“Stop, my name is Cadet. I’ve been sent to try and protect you and the other players in the Gamesmaster’s twisted little game. Don’t shoot, I’m unarmed.” He slowly stood up with his hands in the air and stepped through the wrecked door.
She slammed the chamber shut and with trembling hands waved the barrel in his general direction. He was pretty sure she’d only managed to load a single barrel in her haste. Cadet continued calmly, “There’s no need to play this game any more, it makes more sense for the victims on the list to come together to neutralise the Gamesmaster.”
Suddenly on the landing above her, a small, dark disk appeared in the air and silently began to expand outwards. Seems they weren’t alone any more. Unaware of the threat behind her, Karen stuttered, “How do I know you’re not lying and anyway there is no way someone like Slade or Joseph Kuang would work together. No I’m safer on my own…”
Cadet also knew he had at most three minutes before armed Police responded to the shots fired. He discretely pulled his grapnel-gun out of his belt keeping it concealed from her as he calmly replied, “You’re wrong about teaming-up, but you’re right about Slade! Look behind you.”
She risked a glance behind her only to see the expanding circle of darkness behind her, a Glock 17 pistol emerging from the dark held in an armoured hand and aimed at the back of her head and she immediately froze in terror.
Before either could do anything, Cadet swung the (unfortunately injured) arm holding the grapnel gun towards her even as he fired; the cable whipped round her body and fastened onto itself. He hit retract and she was pulled backwards off the landing and away from Slade. The shock of falling, out of control resulted in the shotgun discharging as it fell from her hands, thankfully not in Cadet’s direction though he wasn’t lucky enough to hit Slade instead. Their would-be attacker responded by firing off several shots at Karen as she was yanked from the landing but none of the bullets hit.
Cadet had to use all of his agility and speed to grab Karen as she was about to hit the ground. His wounded shoulder was in agony as he caught her in mid-air, and spun her round to reduce her momentum, used his own body to absorb the fall. He then rolled both of them sideways across the floor out of the line of fire and beneath the stairs into the corridor to the kitchen as he pulled a couple of his gas pellets from his belt. Two more shots rang out as he risked throwing tear gas and smoke capsules onto the stairs. In response, he felt a bullet slice through the sleeve of his costume but thankfully it didn’t do any serious damage.
There was no way they could survive a dash to the front door so escape via the rear garden was their only option. The bleeding from his shoulder wound was getting worse. He needed to treat it quickly. He turned to the now hysterical Karen. “We’re going to survive this I promise but first, do you have any dental floss and a needle so I can sew up my wound?” Through the tears, she pointed upwards. Cadet sighed, “Yeah let me guess, it’s in your bathroom upstairs. I’ll settle for a tube of superglue.” Thankfully, this time she pointed towards a drawer in the nearby kitchen.
There were several more shots through the billowing smoke that now filled the whole of the entrance way; it was followed by running feet on wood as Slade ran down the stairs.
Cadet grabbed hold of his rescuee once more and dragged her backwards into the kitchen risking alerting Slade as she gave out a whimper at the unexpected movement. He shut the door and jammed a chair under the handle as a delaying tactic. He then opened the drawer Karen had pointed to and was rewarded with finding a tube of superglue, which he rammed into his belt. He had seconds at best left. He slammed a bottle of cooking oil and a metal fork into the nearby microwave and switched it on, running towards the door he also turned full on all the gas burners on the stove. He then fired his grapnel out through the open door into the garden where it fastened round a nearby tree and hit retract. Karen clung on to him for dear life and he hung onto her one-armed as his grapnel-gun sped their departure out of the kitchen even as the chair behind the door splintered and an armoured figure, pistol in hand entered the kitchen.
He appeared to look around, must have smelled the gas and seen the sparks and smoke emanating from the microwave. The last thing Cadet saw was a dark circle enveloping him even as the kitchen exploded. He couldn’t tell if any of the explosion had injured him but no one stepped out of the smoke and flames into the garden after them. Ah well, this woman wasn’t short of a bob or two she could afford to redecorate assuming she survived. He sat down on the grass in exhaustion as the woman in his arms hysterically cried and screamed… What could possibly happen next?
He checked his wound; the spear had severed muscle tissue in his shoulder and it was still bleeding profusely. Ideally, he could have sterilised the wound and applied sutures or at least sewn it up with dental floss. Thankfully, he had a tube of superglue and it was a clean wound. He knew that using antibiotic ointments from his personal medikit to clean it beforehand would dissolve the glue and make it impossible to close the wound.
He considered asking Karen to help but she was still being hysterical and trying to crawl away, into the undergrowth. He ignored her while he peeled back the cloth round his wound and saw that despite the blood the edges were clean. He pulled out a bandage, cleared as much blood away as he could then, opening the tube of glue, poured its contents down one side of the wound and pressed the edges together. There was a stinging sensation as the glue got into the muscle tissue as the sides of the wound sealed. It wasn’t a perfect solution as It did risk tearing the wound loose if he over flexed the shoulder muscles but it would have to do for the moment. He considered applying a bandage but the wound was now sealed, what would be the point?
Now he had to find somewhere safe for… In that second a small dark hole in reality appeared in front of them and Cadet was forced to grab hold of Karen and drag her stumbling towards the gate into the alley at the far end of the garden. Out front, the sound of Police sirens could be heard…
For the moment his only intention was keeping both of them out of reach of harm, while staying in the general area where the Police were likely to be, their presence in the area hopefully providing some protection against attack.
He glanced behind him and the hole in reality had once more disappeared. At least that confirmed that Slade was still alive and was still hunting them. Karen’s continued denial of what was happening coupled with her panic attack made it difficult to remain unnoticed though.
A thought occurred to him; he slowed down once they reached the lane and could see Police cars pulling up at either end. “Before we go any further, who is this Joseph Kuang you mentioned? Is he related to the Joey Tiamente on the list or is he the actual name of the Gamesmaster?”
As she tried to answer, her teeth chattering with fear, she failed to comprehend that Cadet was leading her through into the garden of the house opposite seeking a way to get to somewhere safe. After a few hesitations, she blurted out “Joseph Kuang is sometimes known on the street as Joey Tiamente, that’s what the Gamesmaster called him on my list. I’ve… I’ve represented him before. He’s the youngest son of Kuang Ma, leader of the Choy Lok On Tong who control most, if not all, of the organised crime in the Dragon’s Gate area of the city. So what now? Are you going to try and kill me?”
“No! The last thing I want to do is hurt you…” Secretly he knew she would definitely now be on his personal hit list after shooting him, even if she was at the very bottom of that list. He continued, “I want to protect you, not kill you! Just need to figure out where to go now. I’d suggest handing yourself over to the Police for protective custody but this Slade guy seems capable of portalling into anywhere. You might be best to stay with me if I could just figure out where you would be safe.”
Two choices, they could either keep running and hope to outlast their attackers or he could pick the battleground and make them come to him. The Commanders’ town house was nearby and any research on him as Cadet would quickly reveal that both Lance and he occasionally trained there. Ever since the attack on him a decade ago it was impossible to hide that the part cyborg that Commander had become wasn’t also Sir Bryan Bardic.
Sir Bryan would be on his estate at the moment so the house would be deserted. Where better to make a stand? He handed Karen a couple of his tear gas pellets just in case and suggested they made their way to a nearby ‘friend’s’ house.
Twenty minutes later, having successfully dodged the police they stood at the front of Sir Bryan’s town house, which if anything, convinced Karen more than anything he’d said that in fact he really was Cadet and not just a kid in a make believe costume. After all, Sir Bryan Bardic was known publicly to be the retired hero Commander. No one in their right mind would attempt to break into his house unless they wanted to spend the rest of their life in prison.
He smiled, he was a modern day latch-key kid, only without a key! That was okay, he didn’t need a key. instead Colin picked the lock on the front door. Once inside he tapped in the alarm code then reset the perimeter alarms, not that he expected Slade would attack by walking through the front door. He then gathered two bulletproof vests from the armoury downstairs, one for him and one for Karen (though if he was right about who Slade was, he had a reputation for headshots) and collected several bulletproof shields and a variety of weapons and headed for the Reading Room. As much as he’d rather use the dojo or even the hall, neither had good exit routes in case they were forced to flee again.
He pushed one of the chairs across the room, positioned it against a far wall and then placed several bulletproof shields around it after he had made Karen sit down and get comfortable. He brought her a bottle of water (ignoring her pleas for a ‘proper’ drink) and some snacks and then handed her a beanbag cannon that the Commander used for training them and he could testify it packed a punch when it hit.
He gathered a stack of weapons, nunchakus, Bo staffs and some more sleeping gas pellets and secreted them in various parts of the room as well as along the fastest routes out of the house then settled in for the wait. Either Slade or the Gamesmaster didn’t find them in time and they won by default or one or other of them traced them here and he would have to be ready for a fight.
Two hours went by before anything happened. Two hours during which he became annoyed at Karen’s apparently weak bladder, her need to stretch her legs every few minutes and her feeling of claustrophobia caused by being inside his ‘house of cards’ as she insisted on calling his barrier of shields. He kept his peace, shielding her trips to the downstairs loo and stopping her attempts to steal the Commanders’ whiskey.
Then, as he began to wonder if he might not be better involving the Police anyway, a single bullet rang out from the rear of the room and smashed into one of the shields protecting Karen’s head. It caused her to try to duck causing the shielding to collapse around her. Cadet somersaulted over the chairs even as the darkness expanded out to reveal an armoured, slightly singed figure armed with what looked like a Glock 17 pistol in his left hand and a functional Schiavona sword with basket hilt in his right. The pistol fired again and Cadet felt the bullet impact on his chest – the bulletproof vest prevented it penetrating but he’d have a bruise the size of a watermelon in the morning. He fired his grapnel gun and managed to snag Slade’s wrist. He hit rewind and was rewarded with seeing his attacker fly out of the portal entrance towards him. Cadet had a few anger issues to work out. He hoped Karen remembered their plan as he rushed in for an elbow strike to the facemask. Someone wearing a helmet he reckoned was often more rather than less vulnerable to a good concussive head-blow.
Slade blocked the blow on his forearm and tried to slam the basket hilt of his sword into Cadet’s face. Cadet was forced to duck backwards and extend his staff. Stepping backwards, he flipped the end of his staff under the chin and tried to stab at his throat. It failed but did succeed in removing the mask revealing a face covered in recent burns and raw skin. His little farewell present had obviously made an impression after all. Slade responded with a snarl and three bullets in quick succession in his direction. The first bullet was aimed at his chest and hit. Thankfully his vest once more absorbed the shot through it again bruised his torso and left him falling backwards out of control. As a result, the other two bullets failed to hit him though they smashed in the Commander’s bookcase behind him. Slade’s’ sword slashed out, cutting through the vest and causing one of the ballistic plates to fall out.
Cadet forced himself back onto his feet and he pulled out his bolos and threw them catching the sword hilt in the cast and knocking the hand backwards with a snapping sound. Had he just broken his attacker’s wrist? No such luck, Slade stepped backwards and slashed out at him with the sword, forcing Cadet to dodge.
At the same time, Karen started to fire the beanbag cannon at him while trying to cower behind one of the shields. A couple of the shots even hit. He tried firing the pistol at Cadet again only to find that he appeared to be everywhere at once, kicking, punching, headbutting… as he tried to stop Slade from aiming the pistol by jerking the cable still wrapped around his gun hand. It didn’t help that Slade was stronger than him and almost managed to drag him on several occasions within slicing distance of his sword.
Better to get in close and personal and make it difficult for Slade to use his weapons. Cadet rushed in and blocked his attempt to slash him. A knee to Slade’s kidneys, was followed by a stamp to the inside of his leg and a trip then he stepped back and gave another tug on the cable which had Slade on the floor slicing wildly with the Schiavona to force Cadet to hopefully keep his distance. Cadet smiled, his assumption that Slade relied on his portal to make him so good seemed to be proving true. More shots were fired mostly at Cadet who kept low and always on the move. A punch to the facemask resulted in a scream of pain. Behind him, the dark portal seemed to be collapsing inwards into what looked like a small circuit board-like object, which then dropped to the floor.
Slade immediately tried to reach out to grab it several times, only for Cadet to either kick it out of reach or to try and stamp down hard on Slade’s outstretched fingers. As he did so, Cadet kept up a running dialogue about how it would be more fun and satisfactory for Slade to take down the Gamesmaster rather than small fry like Colin or Karen…
He shut up when Slade tried to shoot him in the face. He might have succeeded if not for the cushion thrown by Karen that hit Slade in the head. Instead, the bullet shattered the chandelier peppering them both with sharp shards. Cadet used the distraction to rush in and apply continued pressure to his carotid artery using his elbow.
Exhausted but with Slade now unconscious, Cadet collapsed to the floor and tried to breathe. His shoulder wound had reopened under the struggle. He almost failed to notice another man stepping out of the shadows and walk towards them clapping. “Bravo, bravo; a superb performance young Colin. You live up to your reputation and as a reward…” He paused and picked up Slade’s circuit board-like object from the ground, “I will take this little trinket in exchange for a life… You have to decide whether it is hers… Or yours.”
He must have entered the room during the fight yet Cadet hadn’t noticed. He looked over at Karen as he heard her whimper in response. The man wore a dark hunters’ jacket over a dark polo neck, smooth black trousers tucked in to the top of laced up combat boots. He looked to be in his 50s with cruel, hard eyes, his hair dark but greying at the temples and on his beard. His face had a couple of poorly healed scars, including one very prominent over his left eye. Cadet’s attention was immediately drawn to his rifle, an M27 Infantry Automatic Rifle slung casually over his shoulder but hung barrel down ready to use.
He walked over and pointed at Slade. “His thefts and assassinations using this dimensional portal are the reason I chose this particular game to restart my vendetta against the criminal fraternity. I planned to leave him for last but you are a much better challenge than he would have been.”
Cadet risked jumping to his feet and striking out with his staff only for it to be blocked by the Gamemaster using just one hand and next he knew he was disarmed as the staff went flying over the Gamesmaster’s shoulder.
“He was good, but I’m better.” He moved past Cadet like a panther until he stood behind Slade. He was fast, too damn fast. His reaction time was inhuman meaning he was either a Meta or enhanced in some way. He swung a cord around Slade’s neck and pulled him to his feet even as he held up the strange device and pressed his thumb to the centre of the board. “This will compensate me for the loss of the Slaughterhouse and provide me with a suitable venue to judge whether my targets are worthy of survival or not. However, I’m a man of my word Colin, only one of you will be my prey and I’ll give you until midnight to prepare for the challenge.”
After a moments’ thought, Cadet nodded, “Okay, I’ll accept the offer. My life, IF you can take it, in exchange for Karen’s life and the teleport-board, key or whatever it is.” The Gamesmaster’s lips twitched in a mockery of a smile as behind him the dark portal reappeared, expanding outwards until it was big enough for the Gamesmaster and his captive to step back into the strange corridor on the other side as the circle of darkness collapsed in on itself once more.
It looked as though his attempt to pretend to not be Colin hadn’t worked, with the Gamesmaster at least. Did he really believe the Gamesmaster was a man of his word? Karen definitely didn’t and was in full-on panic mode. Cadet spent the next few minutes pacifying and re-assuring Karen then made a call. He decided to trust Malone over the cops and phoned to ask him to collect Karen and take her somewhere where she could be kept safe, for the moment at least. He only had a couple of people he could trust not to go to the authorities – Chris and Malone being top of the list and Chris probably had enough hassle after Colin’s last request for a favour.
He made all the arrangements in Karen’s hearing, so that she knew what was going on and that he was serious about protecting her. Half an hour later Karen had calmed down enough and had reluctantly agreed to leave with scary Malone who was chewing obsessively on a toothpick all the time. Malone tried to get him to agree to take an unregistered handgun he brought with him in the hope that Colin would accept it. In the end though, it was Karen who grabbed it and shoved it in her handbag.
He hinted to a grinning Malone that he should feed as well as possibly tranquillise, medicate or whatever their charge once they got to a safe location, wherever that was. He didn’t want to know, just in case.
Now on his own, he went for Commander’s para-medic kit in the dojo and cleaned his wounds, this time he sewed up the wound to his shoulder. Stitches would be more likely to survive any vigorous movement, he hoped. He considered changing out of his damaged uniform but it did give some protection and he suspected he would need every help he could if he was to survive his midnight encounter. He looked around and tried to think of ways he might even up the odds. He was about to take the rest of the suture thread with him then realised that the para-medic kit also contained a defibrillator which might come in useful if he was able to jury-rig it to overload.
Gamesmaster had been fast, inhumanly so. If he was to survive then he needed to rig the environment to limit his opponent’s ability to use that to his advantage in the forthcoming fight.
He went upstairs, walked over to the now bullet-peppered bookshelf and pushed it to one side to reveal a concealed armoured vault door with an electronic lock. He punched in the code and opened the door revealing the Commanders’ archive vault; it was a smallish space, airtight, with massively thick walls lined with adjustable shelving and a hefty, reflective steel door. The metal floor of the vault was covered in a green hard-wearing carpet. With the door closed the air inside tasted slightly metallic but he could cope with that.
He started to shift the shelving around then brought in the chairs and any other suitable bits of furniture from the room outside, which he stacked up to the roof in order to eliminate all man-sized clear spaces within the vault’s volume, apart from a two-man-sized space at the centre. His aim was to hopefully force the Gamesmaster to teleport into this specific confined space, since teleporting into an area with a solid object (however slight) pre-occupying that space would be dangerous. He then hid and set up his various little surprises just in case he needed a bit of extra help.
He also talked to Chris and asked him to take remote command of the door-locking mechanism and override any attempt to open it from the inside. He agreed, admittedly reluctantly as Cadet settled in for midnight to arrive.
Midnight found Cadet waiting in half of the central free space, facing the other half, Escrima sticks in hand, with the door locked. He had a couple of sleep-gas pellets held ready. He’d wanted to flood the chamber beforehand but his respirator wasn’t designed for long-term use and didn’t want to risk succumbing to the gas himself if the Gamesmaster delayed his arrival.
He glanced around the chamber, for a second worrying what would happen if the Gamesmaster opened a portal on the floor and he glanced down at the carpet just in case. As he looked up, he glimpsed a reflection on the shiny metal door of a portal forming behind him, between the legs of the stacked chairs. He tossed a gas pellet behind him into the portal and as he turned, he slammed his respirator between his lips.
He waited for a few seconds then the portal vanished only to reform in the empty space in the middle of the room. Cadet considered trying to hit through the gap in reality but there was no guarantee that the Gamesmaster would be just behind the portal, so better to wait.
A second later Gamesmaster appeared on the other side of the portal. He’d left the rifle behind obviously aware, having spied the location through the initial portal, that this fight was going to be up close and dirty. Thankfully, he didn’t have a respirator. Cadet immediately threw a double hit with his Escrima sticks at his face, which connected but seemed to do little damage and as he pulled the arm back, his opponent grabbed his wrist and began to twist it. That’s when he saw that the Gamesmaster was armed only with a double-edged dagger. He continued to twist the arm until it locked and forced him to drop one of his Escrima sticks then pushed Cadet into the stacked chairs. He stood there and sneered, the dagger held underhand with his other hand now acting as guard above it. His stance was casual, one leg slightly forward, ready for anything.
Cadet grabbed a couple of the strings he’d rigged up earlier and pulled hard. Behind him, the Gamesmaster heard the stacked chairs collapse on top of each other crushing several sleeping gas pellets between them and filling the chamber with the gas. The Gamesmaster suddenly took a deep breath and held it as the gas flooded the interior of the vault though some of the gas leaked out of the room through the open portal. How long could the man in front of him hold his breath he wondered?
The Gamesmaster got in close and personal, as he tried to stab at Cadet, aiming for the lungs. Cadet dropped to the ground to dodge the thrust, hitting his head against a stack of coffee tables in the process and kicked out towards his opponent’s ankles only for him to jump up into the air landing on Cadet’s outstretched ankle. It didn’t break but the pain was horrific.
Cadet tried to kick at his attacker’s legs with his other foot, and felt something sharp cut at the back of his ankle, he assumed it was the dagger trying to slice at his Achilles tendon. It missed thankfully and Cadet managed to get his other foot up and kick Gamesmaster away. Before he could try again he flipped himself back onto his feet and found himself standing to the side of his attacker.
He tried a kidney punch and managed to get the Gamesmaster to let out some of his lungful of air. He had hoped to steal the portal-board from him and thereby trap him inside the vault but he couldn’t see where the bloody thing was concealed. Gamesmaster responded with an underhand stab at his stomach. It was a shallow wound but it was so fast that Cadet began to doubt his ability to win. He grabbed at the wrist, pulled it and slammed the blade into the green carpet, breaking the tip on the metal sheeting beneath. He then brought his elbow up fast into Gamesmaster’s chin. It drew blood but to his dismay, he could already see the cut healing itself.
The Gamesmaster responded with a finger-strike to his injured shoulder. He must have seen the wound previously. His fingers were like steel as they ripped the sutures apart and dug deep into the wound then twisted. Cadet screamed as he was forced to step back and defend against a flurry of punches using his remaining Escrima stick, but several of the blows were too fast to block.
Cadet had learned the importance of technical precision early on and his responding strikes were deadly accurate yet they seemed to have little effect against his stronger, faster opponent and worse his adrenaline spike was wearing off fast.
Gamesmaster still didn’t appear to have breathed in any of the sleeping gas which was unfortunately thinning fast due to the open portal to wherever. He suddenly carried out a palm strike to Cadet’s visor caused the eyepiece to shatter, scratching and bruising but not piercing his eye, forcing him to continue fighting on with one eye closed even as the rest of the visor stayed on his face.
Relying on muscle memory to carry him through his exhaustion, automatically blocking the attacks, over and over. It didn’t always work and within minutes he had numerous cuts and bruises on his arms, neck and chest. Gamesmaster’s fingernails were as sharp as diamonds. Cadet still had a couple of tricks up his sleeve though. He faked a punch passed Gamesmaster’s ear and instead grabbed at the cord he’d wrapped around the legs of some of the stacked chairs to cause the tower to collapse onto the Gamesmaster’s back catching him by surprise.
Colin took the opportunity to jab him in the stomach with his Escrima stick, catching him off-guard and causing him to fly backwards into the fallen chairs snapping one of the chair legs into a stake, which pieced his back and pocked out of his chest. To Colin’s surprise, he pushed the broken chair leg out of his chest and to Cadet’s dismay, the wound was already starting to heal.
Cadet stepped back, dropped the remaining Escrima stick and screamed as he punched his opponent again and again, “I’ve never killed anyone and definitely not my father, you’re a murderer not me. I’ve never killed anyone, can you say the same you bastard? Why the fuck would you allow a criminal like Mystery to dictate who you punish and kill? You like being a criminal’s tool, you tool?”
Something he said must have connected with him, for a split second the Gamesmaster hesitated before he kicked out and Cadet felt his knee snap and he collapsed to the carpet in agony.
As he did, he reached underneath a nearby chair and grabbed hold of the defibrillator he’d hidden there earlier and pushed the discharge button as he threw it at the Gamesmaster’s head. The electricity in the pack discharged immediately shocking both of them into oblivion.
In the darkness of unconsciousness, he heard a familiar voice, deep but filled with concern. “… and call in Doctor Collins to assist. If necessary contact the London Watch who can arrange transport.”
Colin opened his one good eye and saw a metallic cybernetic hand and a familiar, friendly face come into view, his artificial eye glittering. Commander continued issuing instructions to the medics surrounding him. “This is an emergency, contact the Queen Elizabeth hospital and have a trauma team on standby… Now!”
The paramedic responded immediately, the Commander was someone you automatically complied with. Colin tried to sit up and found himself unable. His chest felt as though all of his ribs had been broken and none of his limbs worked properly. He managed to croak out a single word, “Gamesmaster?”
Commander gently pressed him back down to the ground with a hand on his uninjured shoulder, “Relax, sorry but he was already gone when we arrived. Someone called Firewall got worried and tried to contact me. Unfortunately, I’m not that easy to contact as you know and it took him some time to hack in and send me a message via Trouble Alert. Sorry it took so long but you’ll be fine after Margaret’s been able to do her stuff… Now rest, the morphine should be kicking in any time now. Just rest, you did good. The woman’s alive.” Colin closed his one good eye and allowed the darkness to wash over him again.
He woke up two days later surrounded by tubes, drips and bleeping machines to see a young woman knocking on the door of his hospital room, “Ah, Colin Duncan? I’ve a delivery for you…” It was a large bouquet of dark purple roses; the card she left on the bed for him to read had a simple message, “Until next time, G”
A nurse entered and ushered the delivery girl out, then smiling he checked Colin’s vitals before heading back to the nurse’s station outside. Colin reached over, picked up his tablet from his side table and logged into the HeroNet debate he’d been following previously. Anonymously he posted that the locked room thefts and murders were committed by Gabriel Slade and despite the supposed similarities that the other murders, assassinations had been carried out by the Gamesmaster playing out one of his sick games and challenges and switched off before he read any of the indignant responses asking how he knew…
He’d have enough to deal with explaining his actions and the damage to Commander’s town house never mind what the school would say about him going out of bounds and almost getting killed but thankfully that would be for another day. For now, he just wanted to rest.
Several days later
Colin walked out of Old Man Summers’ office and sighed in relief. He’d been grounded for a month, had to apologise to the local Police Inspector, an Inspector Tolliver, in person for not immediately reporting the assault and he had to take extra sessions on conflict resolution techniques. Apparently calling your opponent “a fool” in your opening dialogue was not seen by the Old Man as the best way to de-escalate a confrontation… Who knew?
Could have been a lot worse. At least the dry cleaners had come through as far as getting the blood and wood splinters out of his blazer. Ah well, another day… He did need to make sure he sent Doctor Collins a nice bouquet of flowers for saving his life by using her healing powers. When they had found him, he’d a collapsed lung due to it being pierced by a broken rib and a shattered kneecap as well as numerous cuts and bruises but she’d managed to put him back together again as good as new using the mystical Light of Albion.+
The one thing he knew for certain was, there would be a rematch one day.
— o0o —
* Translation “Come and meet your fate, I will be merciful and quick. If I can’t have the Gamesmaster yet, I will have you.”
+ Doctor Margaret Collins is the hero Britannia.
Growing up Meta, UK-Style! 