Bitter: Book Three: Bitter, #3

Chapter One

Britta took off the helmet and blinked, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. She was in her bedroom. She had made it out with no problems. The game wasn’t holding her captive the way it was Stan. But it could.

She sat up, the back of her tee-shirt clinging to her skin. It was dark in her room, but there was enough light creeping in under the curtains and from the clock on her bedside table to give the room its familiar shape. 11:34 PM. Not all that late. It was Friday, so it wasn’t like she needed to wake up early. She reached out and turned on her bedside lamp.

After towelling herself off and putting on some fresh clothes, she considered going back into the game. She felt hesitant. What if next time the game decided to keep her in there? Dr Reedy and her team had no idea how it happened, which meant they had no idea how to stop it from happening again. The smart thing to do would be to stay out until they fixed the bug.

She knew for sure if she told her parents what had happened, they would bar her from playing. It wouldn’t be them overreacting, either. It was clearly the sensible thing to do.

And yet, Britta didn’t believe the game was acting out of malice. She couldn’t prove it, and certainly the evidence suggested even if it was accidental, it was very dangerous. But Stan being stuck in prison felt like part of the story. There were things happening that were all connected somehow, and he was just one part of a big moving machine. As was she.

She lay down again and turned off the lamp. There was no need to rush back. She needed to sleep, too. She lay there thinking about what to do. Stan definitely needed her help. He may have been annoying and of questionable morality, but he was still a real person stuck inside a computer. He wouldn’t die, not with all the focus already on his health. He probably had numerous healthcare professionals with him around the clock. In fact, he was the ideal person to take hostage. His body was just as much a prison as an actual prison. Had the game known that?

It seemed a bit far-fetched, but then what part of all this wasn’t? From what she had experienced so far, nothing worked how she expected it to. All the elements were from familiar sources — books and films and the like — but how they played out was anything but familiar.

In a movie, you always knew things would turn out for the best, or at least they would make sense. The detective would catch the killer. Or, if it was one of those edgy films where the twist was the detective got it wrong, it would tell you that before the closing credits. Your curiosity would be satisfied.

In this case, that wasn’t guaranteed. If she didn’t figure out what was going on, she wouldn’t just bump into the correct answer. There was no voiceover to fill in the blanks. There was only Dr Reedy to apologise for not knowing what had happened.

Britta drifted off to sleep and had weird dreams about being in a movie where she was chased endlessly by some madman she never saw. When she woke up, she had the irritating feeling she had forgotten something important. Although how she knew it was important when she didn’t know what it was, eluded her.

She went downstairs and found both parents in the kitchen, Mum dressed and ready for the day, Dad in a bathrobe, droopy-eyed as he poked at his cereal, sniffling and looking like he needed to go back to bed.

Your father isn’t feeling well, said Mum. Try to be nice to him.

It was a tall order, but it wasn’t like she planned to spend much time with him. She had decided she would go back into the game. And that it was probably best not to tell her parents any more than necessary.

How’s it going? asked Dad. Kill any interesting monsters recently?

No. I try not to kill unless I have to. I’m involved in a murder mystery at the moment. One of my friends got killed.

Dad perked up. A player?

No, an NPC. He got thrown out of a window. By the Mayor. Only he denies it.

Dad began eating his cereal with more interest. Never heard of a quest like that. Is it one of your special narratives?

I think so. Hard to know when I haven’t played the game normally. It’s quite interesting, though. I have to hunt for clues, not monsters.

Well, said Mum. I suppose that’s a bit better. Less violent.

Not for the one who got murdered, said Dad.

I think the Mayor’s hiding something. I just don’t know what it is.

That’s an easy one, said Dad. You make out you’ve already found it, then the suspect rushes to wherever he’s hidden it to make sure it’s still there, and you follow him. The old bait and bluff — a classic detective drama trope.

It was actually not a bad idea. If she could get to talk with the Mayor, she could give him the impression she knew more than she did, and then wait for him to check his safe or vault or whatever secret hiding place he kept whatever it was he was holding over Gabriel Garbolum’s head. Then she’d be in a much stronger position.

She liked the idea so much, it made her less concerned about what the game might have in store for her, and eager to get back in. She quickly finished her breakfast and headed back upstairs. She still had the niggling feeling she was missing something, though.

A few moments later, Britta was in her regular cell in the Church of Roha. Sister Florence was outside her room, on her knees. She was scrubbing the exact same spot as last time.

Sister Florence, can you tell me how to get to the Town Hall?

Oh yes, deary. It’s just over there. She pointed and Britta’s map flashed in the top right of her vision. It was becoming a normal thing to get directions straight to the magic map in the corner of her eye.

She followed the sparkling trail towards the posh part of town. There was a section of nearly identical buildings in a semicircle, with a grand mansion in the middle. She had passed it before and assumed it was a stately home of some kind. It had broad stone steps and white columns across the front.

There were quite a few people outside, including a man with a mop. He was washing a large red patch off the flagstones. It had been some time since Freddy had fallen to his death, so she would have expected the blood to have been cleaned well before now. Unless the game wanted her to see it. Or someone else had died in the meantime.

She was glad Freddy’s body wasn’t still here. She wouldn’t have liked to have seen them scraping up what was left of him. It probably would have been very gory and detailed.

Inside, there was a board listing the various departments and where they could be found. There were offices for road planning, waste collection and parks. Just like any local council. The mayoral offices were on the top floor.

There was a couple of guards in the main foyer and a man behind a counter, but they ignored her. People seemed to be moving around freely, even though a death had occurred only recently. Britta tried not to look out of place and headed up the stairs.

It was four floors to the top, and she was met by a much more opulent reception area. An attractive young woman who didn’t appear to be entirely human (she had crimson eyes and extremely long fingernails that didn’t look fake) sat behind a desk.

Yes? Do you have an appointment? she asked in an unsettlingly deep voice.

No, said Britta. Can I make one?

The woman smiled, displaying an endless set of very small, pointed teeth. What is it you wish to speak to the Mayor about?

About the man who fell out of his window. He was a friend of mine.

The large doors behind the receptionist opened and the Mayor appeared. It seemed a bit convenient for him to pop out at that moment, just as he had when Stan was here. Perhaps it was part of his programming to make himself available whenever a player dropped by.

Oh, Miss Beyoncé, isn’t it?

It also seemed odd that he would remember her from their one meeting in the post office, when he had mistakenly thought the B in her name stood for Beyoncé.

Hello, Mr Mayor. Nice to see you again.

Delores, be a love and get me a fresh beverage from McDonald’s. They’re extremely delicious and very reasonably priced.

Britta wasn’t sure how to react. Was that an ad? She still hadn’t visited McDonald’s herself, but she knew there was one in the market square. Was this how they drummed up business?

The receptionist rose. She was very tall (although everyone was from Britta’s perspective) and wearing a tight leather skirt that didn’t really seem to fit the time period. Of course the specific time period was never, so you couldn’t really argue it was against historical accuracy.

You have something you’d like to talk to me about? asked the Mayor. He was being very convivial, his smile stretching all the way across his very broad chin.

Britta nodded. It’s to do with Freddy Garbolum.

Yes, I heard you say he was a friend of yours. Very sad. Why don’t you come in? He held the door open for her.

The room was very grand. The desk was bigger than her bed at home, and the chair behind it was like a throne. He showed her to a smaller chair and then took up residence in the bigger one.

Are you a friend of the family? asked the Mayor.

Yes, said Britta.  Which was sort of true.

They must be very upset. I know they’ll be keen to seek justice against the young man who committed this terrible act.

Britta hadn’t thought of that. The Garbolums were a bunch of gangsters. They would probably want revenge against Stan.

He’s already in jail, said Britta.

Indeed, but that’s not the sort of justice I mean. I doubt being in jail will stop them getting to him. It might actually make it easier. I believe many members of the Garbolum ‘family’ are already incarcerated in the very same guardhouse.

There was a self-satisfied smile on the Mayor’s lips which sent a chill down Britta’s spine. Here was a guy you shouldn’t mess with. Britta looked around the office. The windows was unbroken and there were no bits of glass anywhere. The inside crew had cleaned up a lot quicker than the outside one.

Britta returned her attention to the Mayor, and decided she should mess with him. I don’t think Stan killed Freddy. I think you did.

Freddy was a member of the Garbolum crime family, even if he wasn’t a particularly popular member. He was the boss’s son. They would no doubt seek revenge.

The fact Stan was locked up and behind guards wouldn’t stop them. As the Mayor had said, it would probably make it easier for them to get to him. Britta wondered if that had been the Mayor’s plan all along. Take care of Freddy and Stan in one fell swoop.

I take it you’re an acquaintance of the killer’s? said the Mayor.

He’s a friend of mine, yes. He was also a friend of Freddy’s. He didn’t have a reason to kill him.

What possible reason would I have for killing the poor boy? said the Mayor, affecting a hurt expression that didn’t quite make it past the smug one plastered across his face.

Freddy recently got hold of something that belonged to you, something to do with his father. Unfortunately he didn’t have time to tell me about it before he was killed, but there are only a few places he would have hidden something like that. As soon as I find it, I’ll be in a much better position to answer your question.

She was making a very risky play. It was tricky, trying to make it sound like she knew what she was talking about while not give out any details to prove it. Telling him Freddy hadn’t revealed everything to her gave her an excuse for her vagueness.

I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, said the Mayor, his smug grin locked in place. I haven’t had any dealings with Gabriel Garbolum in many years.

Not since the sale of the Korlath Mines? asked Britta casually. There was a small but definite jump in one of the Mayor’s eyebrows.

Miss Beyoncé, I assure you, the only person guilty of any wrongdoing here is safely locked up. Well, I don’t know how safe he is, but he won’t be leaving those four walls anytime soon. If you wish to know why he would do such a terrible thing, you will have to ask him.

He rose from his chair. He was a large, broad man, and his fur-lined outfit stretched him out even more. It was like he filled the whole room. Britta felt tiny. He could easily pick her up and toss her out of a window. He wouldn’t even need to smash it, just open it slightly.

Britta stood up and backed away. There was no point trying to put up a fight, she’d have to run. Of course, if she was thrown out of the window, she would respawn in the church. But it would mean wasting another twenty-four hours.

The Mayor walked across the room to a table with drinks on it. He poured himself a glass of what looked like wine. I can see this has you as shaken as I. The sudden death of one of my citizens is no easy thing to comprehend. Such senseless violence. Such brutality. He downed the glass in one. But here is not the place to discuss such matters. He looked from side to side like there might be someone listening in. Perhaps I can invite you to my home this evening, where we can go over the specifics in far greater depth. What do you say? He gave her a look with one eye squinting and the other opened unnaturally wide. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to be seductive or secretly passing gas.

Your home?

Yes. We can pool our knowledge over a light dinner. I want to get to the bottom of what’s going on here as much as you do. He filled and sank another glass of the rich red liquid and smacked his lips. He had a lot of surface area in that department, so it made quite a sound.

Alright, said Britta. I accept. A light flashed in the corner of her vision, marking the Mayor’s residence on her map.

Excellent. Shall we say at eight?

Britta agreed. She realised he may have only asked her to get her alone to murder her, but she wouldn’t stay dead and since the game knew that it was unlikely to be his purpose. She had also never been asked out to dinner before, so that would be an interesting experience.

She left the Mayor’s office (through the door) and made her way back to the street. The cleaner was still scrubbing away. Digital blood was clearly very stubborn when it came to staining flagstones.

She took up position across the street where there was a small park with some trees and benches. She tried not to be too conspicuous. There were enough people coming in and out of the Town Hall for it to not seem too strange that she was loitering. She kept checking her mana as it slowly dropped.

After about twenty minutes the Mayor emerged. A carriage rode up and he got in.

There was a shimmer beside her and the shade appeared.

Anything? she asked it.

No, said the shade. He did some paperwork, rearranged a meeting and then called for his carriage.

He didn’t check his drawers or look in his safe? Britta had hoped Dad’s idea would work sooner rather than later. If he had the incriminating evidence in his office, he would mostly likely have checked it was still there.

The carriage drove off.

Stick with him. Maybe it’s in his home.

The shade shimmered back into stealth mode and floated away. There was enough mana left for the shade to stay active for another hour at least. It wasn’t like she had any other use for it. Now she’d just have to wait and hope she got lucky.

She watched the cleaner finally get up and start packing everything into his cart. And suddenly she realised what had been bothering her.

She had assumed Stan was being kept in-game to prevent Freddy from resurrecting like a normal NPC would after dying. Once Stan logged out, Freddy would reset. But, if Stan was necessary for that reason, wouldn’t that mean Stan was the one responsible for Freddy’s death?

The thought that Stan was lying to her, and had killed Freddy for some reason, was unsettling. It was also confusing. Why would he have done it?

It seemed far more likely that she had misunderstood how the game operated and the exact reason it had decided to take Stan hostage. So much more likely that it was almost comforting. The chances of her having gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick were very high.

Still, it was a concern. She really had very little idea what was going on. She had meant to uncover the mysterious behaviour underlying the game, and all she had done so far was make the muddy waters even muddier.

She looked at the time. It was only eleven in the real world, so plenty of time for her to do whatever she wanted. But what time was it here? It dawned on her it was always daytime in the game, no matter when she logged in. Even if it was the middle of the night.

She had never seen a night sky here. She had never seen it get darker or the sun setting. There was a sense of morning and afternoon, although that could be her projecting her own assumption of time passing on the game. There was no clear indicator of different parts of the day. There didn’t seem to be a way to tell the time, either.

Which raised another question. How was she supposed to know when to go see the Mayor? He had said eight o’clock, but no one had a watch or a clock here. Did it ever get that late?

She would be hard-pressed to be on time for a dinner date if the arranged time of day didn’t exist. You didn’t get these sorts of problems in the real world.

Dr Reedy? Britta said to the sky. She was still under a tree opposite the Town Hall, so the sky wasn’t completely visible to her, but then the need to talk at the sky when trying to get the doctor’s attention didn’t require her to look up. It just felt appropriate.

Is anything wrong, Britta? asked Dr Reedy a few seconds later.

No. The Mayor asked me to dinner at his house. At eight. How do I know when that is?

Ah, said Dr Reedy. We’ve been meaning to implement a day-night cycle for some time, but we haven’t gotten around to installing it yet.

So, it’ll never be eight o’clock?

I wouldn’t say never, but it won’t be for a while yet.

Britta was at a loss as to how to proceed. How could she meet the Mayor if their appointed time would never come? And how would the Mayor react to her not turning up? Would he be able to tell?

I’ll tell the development team to get on it, said Dr Reedy. I’m sure they can put together some sort of evening lighting condition. A world clock is going to be a little more difficult to implement. With so many players, it’s going to be hard to put everyone in the same progressive timeframe.

Britta wasn’t really sure what that meant. Simply putting a clock on the game that everyone could see would be all it took, wouldn’t it? Most likely there were variables she wasn’t aware of.

There was something else I wanted to ask you, said Britta.

Yes?

When Freddy died, did you see what happened?

I’m afraid not. I was watching you at the time. Everyone was, in fact. We recorded all other interactions for later analysis.

So you have a recording?

Ah, actually no. The files have been removed.

Deleted?

No, said Dr Reedy firmly. They’re somewhere on the system, they’ve just been hidden.

Who would do that? said Britta, even though she already knew. The game didn’t want her to have it too easy. No flipping to the back of the book to see who the murderer was.

It’s hard to say. I would assume this is part of whatever it is you’re experiencing.

On the other hand, Dr Reedy could be lying. She could be behind all of this and testing Britta by creating these strange conditions for her to exist in. It was the sort of thing scientists were good at — building mazes for their rats to run around in.

Okay, said Britta. I’ll carry on here while you sort out the time thing. She had plenty to be getting on with, including finding a way to level up. It had never been a high priority for her, but it would come in useful to have a new spell or maybe some new skills.

Very well. Oh, I meant to tell you, that unfinished gnome quest you weren’t able to complete, it’s finished. Next time you visit your great gnome friend, he should have the appropriate tasks to give you.

Suddenly, questions about Stan’s reliability and Dr Reedy’s honesty didn’t seem that important, at least not in the short term. Here was Britta’s ideal opportunity to gain a level or two and learn some new abilities at the same time. She just had to return to the gnome village and earn her due.

It would actually be a relief to do a simple quest and get useful rewards. She was even looking forward to it. She checked her mana. Still plenty for the shade to use. If she was quick, she might even be able to complete her class quest before the shade had to be recalled. For once, time was on her side.

Britta opened her map and checked the location of the gnome village. The entrance — a hole in the ground — wasn’t very far away. About halfway to the ranch where she had collected Donald.

She was in the eastern part of New Town. Rather than cut back through the streets and alleys, she decided to make her way to the town’s nearest border, call Donald, and ride around the outside until she reached the road. It was a longer route, but quicker on her goat.

There was no one paying any attention to her. She checked the map and quickly walked across the small park and down a side street to the nearest point where she could leave the town and summon her mount.

What the map didn’t show her was the wall. It was high, made of stone, and had spikes on top. There wasn’t a wall on the map, and she hadn’t seen one anywhere else, but this was the rich part of New Town, so it made sense the inhabitants wouldn’t want any old riffraff coming and going as they pleased. It was inconvenient, though.

The wall stretched in either direction for as far as she could see. It had to end before it crossed any of the roads that led out of town, but there were only a few of those and none close by. The nearest was the one she wanted, and it was a fair distance away.

If she had the gnome levitation spell, she’d have been able to just float over. Even a ladder would do. It looked like she’d have to walk through town after all.

She turned around and set off on the long walk. It was frustrating not being able to overcome such a basic obstruction. Another reason to level up quickly and upgrade her abilities.

There was a strange feeling she had as she walked, as though someone was following her. She kept looking back, but didn’t see anyone. There was an excellent chance she wasn’t being paranoid and there really was someone there, perhaps even some kind of magical creature similar to her shade. It gave her a creepy feeling, whatever it was.

There were quite a few people who might want to keep tabs on her. She knew the dwarves would still want to have words with her. And the Mayor might have thought it prudent to keep an eye on her, too.

Twenty minutes later she was in the poor part of town. There was no town wall here. She reached the outskirts and summoned Donald. She opened the map as she rode and tried to figure out the quickest route. The last time she’d been taken across the wilderness by a gnome escort, but it would be quicker to simply go as far down the road as possible, and then take a right when she was level with the entrance. It would save having to steer Donald through the brush, which he would no doubt keep stopping to devour.

It was certainly much less tiring to let Donald do the walking. They made quick progress. Britta had the map open to make sure they didn’t go too far before going off-road, so she didn’t notice she wasn’t alone until she was almost on top of the three bandits blocking the road.

She recognised them at once — the same three she had encountered before. The catman Donald had killed was back to life, as she would expect. She assumed they wouldn’t remember their last meeting. She stopped before she reached them and considered heading into the brush. Would they follow her?

Donald shifted around under her. Did he remember? He shouldn’t, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He had taken great umbrage at the bandits wanting to turn him into their dinner, which would traumatise anyone. He pawed at the ground.

Something else occurred to her. If one of them ended up getting killed, would the game prevent her from logging out so they wouldn’t resurrect?

It wasn’t clear if the need to keep dead characters dead extended to NPCs not connected to the main storyline she was on. On top of which, she had no way of knowing if they were unconnected. Maybe the bandits were involved in some way, too.

And what if it was Donald who did the killing? She didn’t receive any XP for his kills, so would she be held responsible? Perhaps just witnessing a death was enough to link a player to the event. If the game used a player’s mind to create events, their involvement in a death could be triggered just by seeing it happen. That could be a possible reason for why Stan would be trapped even if he didn’t do the killing himself.

There was a lot she didn’t know, and she’d rather not find out by being put into a coma by the game. She needed to not kill anyone, or even see anyone get killed. At least until she understood how it worked.

She turned Donald to avoid the bandits, and saw a small cart approaching from town. It was pulled by a glossy horse high-stepping towards her. There were at least three men in the back, maybe more. They looked like members of the Garbolum family. They looked like thugs.

Were they the ones who had been following her? They might blame her for Freddy’s death and want some sort of retribution. Or compensation.

If the two groups met, there would most likely be an altercation. Maybe even some deaths. She had to make sure that didn’t happen. Or, that she was nowhere near when it did. If she didn’t see it, it had nothing to do with her.

Let’s go, Donald, she said, and they sprang into bushes.

She looked back. Behind her, the bandits paused for a second and then charged after her. She looked over her other shoulder. The cart driver snapped the reins and the horse veered off the road. The men in the back held on as the cart rocked from side to side.

She urged Donald to speed up.

There was a cry behind her, followed by more. Britta looked back. The two groups had spotted each other and were shouting back and forth while they pursued her. Probably each telling the other to back off.

How could she stop them from attacking each other? One death and she might be stuck in the game forever.

Chapter Two

Come on, Donald! cried out Britta. The goat sprang over bush and shrub, skittering from side to side. She was staying ahead of her pursuers, but she could hear them close behind.

She dared a quick peek over her shoulder.

The cart was rocking wildly, threatening to spill its cargo of clinging ruffians at any moment. The horse attached to it was foaming at the mouth, leaning left then right to keep the cart upright. The three bandits were racing alongside, their weapons drawn and whirling in