Virtual Game: The Virtual Chronicles, #3

Prologue

Jeremy stared blankly at the video screens stretching across the Titan station's wall as they scanned Earth's video feeds for crimes in progress. Glimpses of Christmas trees flashed across them as the world he called home, almost a billion miles away, prepared for Christmas the next morning.

BJ, do you think we'll see Santa from here? Bridget turned to watch Jeremy's eyes.

He barely cracked a smile. That would certainly get his mind off all the events of the past year. No, Sis, I seriously doubt it. Jeremy met her eyes. Her short, brown hair brushed her shoulders. Santa operates under the radar.

She huffed. You make him sound like a bad guy.

He does break into people's houses.

She slapped his arm. To give stuff, not take it.

Jeremy's gut sank. Christmas did take my life from me. From us. A year ago, he had a normal life. All gone now. All because he had received that stupid helmet for Christmas, had put it on, had become involved with another world's battle, then had become the hero who saved Zoir, SuPuten, and Earth. A year later, his parents dead, the world moved on as if nothing had happened. Another Christmas had come. This time without the Mind Game, but he still had the hero game going.

She slumped in her seat. I was trying not to think about that.

Hey, Bucko.

Jeremy swung around. Hey, Mick. What took you?

Family returned late from a Christmas Eve service. Said I wanted to go to bed right away, like I couldn't wait until tomorrow. He smiled. But I don't have to.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. What do you mean, you don't have to wait?

Mickey slapped Jeremy on the back. Because I have Astro Man right here. Just use that x-ray beam of yours and I'll know what my presents are tonight!

Jeremy shook his head. Mick, you're crazy.

Oh, come on. I'm hoping they snagged the latest game—

Jeremy jumped out of his seat. Another game? Are you crazy?

Mickey grimaced. Bucko, what's the deal. It's just a video game.

Jeremy rubbed his forehead. That's what we thought last year. Just a game. A game that stole my life from me.

Mickey's eyes grew wide. Ah, of course. Christmas would be triggery for you. I'm sorry.

Jeremy sucked in a deep breath. Forget it, Mick. It's all I can think about right now.

What you need is some action. Anything on the vids tonight?

Jeremy shook his head. Christmas Eve is pretty quite all over the world it seems.

Santa. Bridget's voice rang out.

Jeremy spun around. What?

She pointed at a video screen. There's Santa. And he's breaking into a house.

Mickey slapped his hands together. There's our action. Let's take down Santa.

Jeremy held up a hand. Mick, this is suspicious. Think about it. How would a live camera crew know about a break-in to a home as it happens and be there to record it?

Mickey shrugged. Happened to be in the right place at the right time? They've probably called the cops, but are filming it for the drama.

Maybe. Jeremy stared at it a bit longer. Aren't there movie plots about Santa stealing things? Micky stared at him. Jeremy called out, Computer, find movies where Santa steals. A screen went blank and then a list of titles appeared. The highest rated link read, The Adventure of the Wrong Santa Claus in 1914. Related links followed it.

Mickey read the results. Are you saying the Zorians are behind this? Else I'm not following you. Santa thieves have been around forever.

Yes . . .I mean, no. I doubt it is a Zorian. But it still makes me suspicious.

Okay, so maybe it's a trap. Maybe it's not. And if it's not, guess who loses?

Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair. Yes, you're right. But stay together. My gut is saying something is wrong here.

Agreed, Mickey responded.

Bridget jumped from the chair. Sure, but we'll be virtual. We can't get hurt.

Jeremy stood. Then as you say, Mick, let's do this.

Mickey grinned. This will be good for you. You'll see.

Jeremy entered the coordinates. Suit, appear as Astro Man.

The room faded and a breeze blew across his chin extending from below his helmet. The half-moon cast a dim glow over the residential neighborhood. A street light flickered a few yards to the right. Activity buzzed to his left where a camera crew recorded the house, waiting for the thief to exit. A siren blared in the distance, indicating the police were indeed on their way. Mickey was probably right. They would save someone's Christmas from being stolen and save Christmas for some kids.

Mickey appeared beside him as Blue Nova. Jeremy could barely make out the blue-green suit, blue briefs, and dark blue cape in the moonlight.

Bridget materialized as Rainbow Girl to his left. Her sparkly mask flaring at the end reflected the meager light.

Jeremy caught her eye. Rainbow Girl?

She smiled. You catch 'em. I'm make 'em cooperative.

Jeremy nodded. Sounds like a plan. You stay out here. Blue Nova and I will grab this guy. He turned toward Mickey. I'll use my light-flash on my gun, and while the crew is blinded, race in there and grab him, bring him to Rainbow Girl, and she'll make him giddy with cooperation.

Mickey saluted. Sir, yes, sir!

Mick!

Lighten up, Bucko. Have a little fun with this. You're way too wound up.

Jeremy unsheathed his gun and set it for a light blast. You should never let your guard down. Assume nothing.

It's just a lone Santa thief. What could go wrong?

I hope you're right. Jeremy pointed the gun toward the camera crew. Hide your eyes. On three. One, two, three! Jeremy squeezed the trigger and a blast of light lit up the area. The camera crew rubbed their eyes and swore in the quiet neighborhood. Within a second, Mickey flashed back with a squirming man in his arms. Mickey dropped him on the ground.

What the— The man's eyes darted around.

Bridget extended her arms and flow of rainbow colors enveloped the man.

Santa's eyes blinked and a grin spread across his face. So much for my Christmas. But that's okay. I'm happy anyway.

Jeremy pointed to the street. Go sit on the curb and wait for the police. Give yourself up when they arrive.

Oh gladly I will. I was so bad to try and steal . . . you.

Jeremy's eyes widened. What did you say?

The back of the news van flung open. A line of soldiers carrying automatic rifles streamed out the door. Jeremy raised his gun to set it for shields, but before he could, a rain of bullets spread over them. He could feel the bullets hitting him. He would have called out to exit the suit, but dying in the virtual body would accomplish the same thing. This did appear to be a trap, but what trap? They would wake up and come back again. Apparently they didn't know much about how virtual bodies worked. But why did the army set this trap?

As life ebbed from the virtual body, Mickey dropped out of nova speed and fell to the ground. He hadn't reacted fast enough, despite his super speed. Jeremy crumbled onto the grass as blackness swept over him.

_______

Jeremy jerked his eyes open. He tried to focus, but the ceiling he saw was not the stucco of his uncle's house at the top of a Montana mountain. Instead, polished metal greeted his eyes. He pushed himself up.

Thick hands wrapped around his arms and another pulled the cowl off his head. Commander, Operation Christmas Gift has been completed, sir.

Jeremy groaned inwardly. Their bodies had been captured while they were virtual. Two men on either side of him kept a firm grip on his arms, another two stood toward the foot of his bed, rifles aimed at the floor, ready to use. No doubt another two stood behind him.

A higher ranking solider beside his bed examined the cowl. Very interesting. I'm sure our scientist will have a field day with this.

Jeremy struggled to speak through a dry throat. Earth's best scientist couldn't figure out how the Mind Game helmets operated. What makes you think this will be easier?

A smug smile creased his lips. We've actually made progress in figuring out the helmets. But we're missing a point of reference.

Jeremy squinted at him. What?

Point of reference. The helmets, as you know, don't work. And even when they did, the destination was in another galaxy. But with these in hand and the destination being in the same room, they'll be able to trace the energy field being created, and hopefully come up with the remaining pieces of the puzzle.

Jeremy let himself fall back to the cot. The soldier’s hands loosened but remained firm. No one can use the mask but me. Same with the other mask Mickey and Bridget have. They are programmed to respond only to our voices.

The man shot a stare at Jeremy. You'll forgive me if I don't trust you.

Be my guest. Jeremy turned to meet his eyes. But how did you find us?

He waved his hand. Simple deduction. When the superhero appearances began to be reported all over the world, and your friend and sister's personas helped in defending Earth from the Similarians, it became obvious that the same virtual reality of the Mind Game was at work. From there you were the most logical culprits. We tracked down your locations and set the trap to grab you.

Jeremy stared at the wall. He should have foreseen this possibility. Why, though? Why revert to kidnapping us?

The soldier stuffed the cowl into his pocket. Control, Jeremy Goodhue. We like to have control over situations. And I didn't suspect you'd approve of us gaining that control. But if we can duplicate this technology, our forces would be invincible. We can fight wars on the ground without losing a life. With a legion of virtual Blue Novas to speed in and hit the enemy before they even blink, we could maintain control for decades. Centuries even. Can you imagine the progress? Can you see the peace we could uphold?

Jeremy knew he didn't want to tell the man anything else. Let him think he could succeed. As soon as the Zorians caught wind of it, they'd shut off the virtual energy going through the wormhole and that would be that. No more superhero days for himself, Mickey, and Bridget. Then again, that didn't sound so bad. He wouldn't mind putting the whole thing behind him and salvage what he could of his life.

Peace? Jeremy breathed deep. By killing?

He smiled. Youthful idealism. I'm afraid the world is a dangerous place. Some people only understand one thing. Brut force.

Jeremy grumbled under his breath, That's what all bullies think.

What? The Commander stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then turned and headed for the door. He paused as he opened it. By the way. Merry Christmas, Jeremy. He left and shut the door behind him.

Jeremy groaned. We may have killed Rillian, but his spirit lives on.

_______

The Commander returned to the room after an hour had passed. His lips down-turned, he faced Jeremy lying on the bed. You were right. We have to use you to get the mask to operate. Come with me. He turned on his heels and headed to the door.

Arms pulled Jeremy off the bed. He stumbled along beside the soldiers as they exited the room and marched down the hall. The Commander stopped in front of a door and pointed at the window.

Jeremy moved to look in, keeping his eyes fixed on the Commander's stoic gaze. He peered in. Uncle George sat on a cot, wearing coveralls and a hat as if they'd snatched him while he milked the cows.

Just want to ensure your cooperation. If you resist or try anything foolish, it won't go well for your uncle, sister, or friend.

Jeremy met his gaze. We're United States citizens. What about our constitutional rights to due process? You can't threaten us like this.

A smile cracked on his lips. To the government, the Congress, and the Constitution, we don't exist. You'll have a hard time suing an organization that doesn't exist.

How do I know you have my sister and friend?

The Commander nodded down the hall. They stopped at the next two cell doors. Bridget sat on the cot rocking her feet under it. Mickey circled his cot as if deep in thought. Satisfied?

Jeremy nodded and followed the soldiers down the hall, a right turn into another hall, a left, and a few doors on the right, they entered a room. Waist-high tables lined the walls. Chairs sat scattered in front of them where soldiers worked on different projects. Centrifuges, Bunsen burners, test tubes, microscopes, and various other lab equipment littered the table-tops.

In the center of the room stood a dentist-like chair fastened with heart monitors, IVs, and a foil ring that swiveled off the top of the chair's back, as if it would fit on someone's head. A moveable light hovered over the chair. The light probably wasn't to get a better view of one's mouth.

The soldiers jumped to their feet as the Commander strolled to the center of the room. He patted the chair. Lay down here.

Jeremy didn't see he had any other option. So he crawled into the chair and laid his head against the back. Jeremy watched as the Commander reached onto the table where a soldier stood at attention, and picked up his cowl. Bridget's and Mickey's masks had lain beside it.

The Commander held the mask in front of Jeremy. You will put this on, then appear in this room as one of your characters. If you do not appear here, I will order the termination of one of those we are holding.

Jeremy's jaw dropped. Murder? He had to be bluffing.

Oh, it would be an accident. Your Uncle falls off the mountain. Your sister drowns in a lake. Your friend shows up in an automobile accident while walking home. All after we terminate them and plant the evidence. We could even implicate you in their deaths if we wished. Now you don't want their blood on your hands, do you?

Investigators would know we didn't die that way. Jeremy gritted his teeth. You couldn't get away with it!

The Commander stared into Jeremy's eyes. We have, we are, and we will again. Now are we clear?

Jeremy bored into the Commander's eyes. If the man was bluffing, he couldn't tell. Nor could he take the chance he wasn't. You're clear. I'll cooperate.

Good. He handed Jeremy the cowl.

Jeremy slipped it over his head and leaned back. The ring was snuggled down upon his head. He whispered in hopes they wouldn't pick up the words, but the mask would. Suit, appear here as Astro Man.

The room dimmed, then reappeared, except now he stood to the side of the chair watching his body breathe in front of him. Feet scurried behind him. Hand's up!

Jeremy raised his hands. Fingers wrapped around his gun and then yanked it from its holster. The soldier held the raygun in his hand. A slight smile spread over the man's lips.

Jeremy nodded at the gun. Careful with that, dude. Whatever you do, don't pull the trigger.

The Commander jumped to the soldier and pulled it from his hands. He turned it over as he examined it. Why? What would happen.

Jeremy forced a grin to stay hidden. Trust me. The last thing you want to do is pull that trigger.

The Commander continued to scan the gun. Sargent, start the energy trace from the body to the virtual body.

Sir, yes, sir. Several of the men turned back to their work.

The Commander lifted the gun's barrel and rested it over his extended left arm. He pointed it at the far wall where a two-feet thick, titanium, three by three foot wall stood. A blackened area covered the center of the metal wall as if lasers had hit it countless times.

Sir, do you think that is a good idea? We should interrogate the prisoner first to know what it does.

The Commander turned and stared at the officer for a long five seconds before responding. You're out of line, soldier. This is a raygun. This dial on top sets the strength. Anyone can see that.

The soldier shrank back to his table. Another officer called out, Yes, sir. But I saw—

The Commander ignored the officer and pulled the trigger. The last setting Jeremy had used being the light blast with the camera crew, a blinding light filled the room. Rifles clattered to the floor as