[System Scan: Horror Story Party Members]

  Leader:

  Hydrion - Healer

  Members:

  Cruz Control - Archer

  It wasn’t much, but it was a start—and probably enough to trigger an achievement. Hydrion opened his character sheet, scanning for pop?ups, but a sensation of being watched distracted him, followed by a voice and a tap on his shoulder.

  “You’re Hydrion, right?” A seemingly middle-aged man asked.

  The shoulder-length strands of graying hair mostly covered his ears—subtly pointed, Hydrion noticed, just enough to hint at some trace of Elvish or other Fae blood, but never so sharp as to seem ostentatious. Whether this was the man’s true form, he could not tell.

  “I know you, although you are probably not aware of me.” The stranger said, smiling at Hydrion. There was an aura of calm, even sageness around him, like of a spiritual leader or shaman of a sort, which clashed with a red and blue scarf around his neck and the baseball bat he held on his shoulder. “My name is Taddeus, Tadzio, but I go by Sir. Wpierdol here.”

  “Sir what?” Hydrion asked, trying the name out in his mouth, but ending up mumbling incoherently, while spitting a lot.

  The man seemed neither confused, nor annoyed.

  “You may find it easier to pronounce as V?pierre?doll,” he advised, carefully breaking the name into three parts.

  Hydrion needed a few tries before he got it right—mostly because every time he heard it, his mind conjured the image of a voodoo doll stitched in Pierre’s likeness. Which, come to think of it, made him wonder: where was Pierre?

  “You must have really tried to form something hard to pronounce.” Cruz Control said. “What does it even mean?

  “Oh, not really.” Tadzio smiled at her. “It’s a name of a martial art of sorts from where I’m from. Although you’re right, it might be a little hard to pronounce here. I didn’t think about it at the time I chose it.” He said, looking slightly abashed.

  As he spoke, Hydrion caught a glimpse of familiar neon?blue, cat?eared headphones weaving through the crowd that showed the first signs of thinning.

  He hastily sent Sir Wpierdol the party invite, which the man accepted without hesitation. Hydrion asked his teammates to wait, excused himself, and let one of his other heads confirm the roster update while he slipped past others before he lost sight of his target. One of the upsides of having multiple heads, even when synchronized into one, was his mastery of multitasking. Watching his surroundings while carrying on a conversation came easily, and the woman he had spotted was definitely someone worth recruiting.

  She was an undead called Martha. In life, she had been the twentieth witch of Salem—or so Hydrion had pieced together, since she wasn’t fond of speaking about those days. More importantly, after her death she became a Whisperbound Gallowsborn: a being born of witch?trial terror, feeding on gossip, hysteria, and false accusations. Mostly false—she had no taste for cursing livestock or crops, the thought of devil?worship gave her creeps, and she kept her distance from children.

  When Hydrion first met her, she was a scrawny thing, a runt with only a fierce will and little power to back it. But with the rise of the internet and social media, he had watched her grow into an absolute terror among monsters—a creature so formidable that even Hydrion made sure to stay in her good graces.

  “Martha!” he yelled as he drew closer, waving at the woman in a pink hoodie, plaid skirt, and a coil of rope slung over her shoulder, to catch her attention. A few others glanced over at the commotion, but quickly lost interest and went back to their tasks.

  She turned her pink?dyed head, fixing him with a stare from sunken eyes. A second passed before recognition dawned, and then she began jumping up and down, waving and grinning at Hydrion. He motioned for her to come over, and together they made their way back to the corner where the others were waiting.

  “It’s great to see you!” Hydrion said, thought by the recent experience with Cruz Control. “Please tell me you don’t have a party yet.”

  “Oh, I’m single.” She said twirling her pink hair around a finger. “My previous crew… had an unfortunate fallout. They were a bunch of old creeps either way, thinking I’m a schoolgirl in distress and in need of fatherly help. What’s up, are you looking for a team?”

  "No, but I'm recruiting one and I'd hate to leave you hanging." He said, giving her his best sales smile. "Dying solo is so last life."

  Just as they reached their intended meeting place, another group of people joined them with Pierre leading the way. The river spirit always looked as though he’d just stepped out of a fogbank—dark eyes warm but carrying a misty undertow, his crooked smile set in a seasoned face that spoke of a lifetime by the water.

  “Hi there!” Pierre greeted everyone, waving his hand. “Tadzio, I’m glad to see you found your way here! Martha, I’ll be damned, I’ve been looking for you all over.”

  The possibly elvish man smiled calmly while Martha, the undead witch, huffed.

  "Pierre, hun, we both know the whole 'being damned' thing is way oversold. The experience? Two stars. Would not recommend." She smiled at him fondly. "What's this — monster rescue? Or did you get lost in the corn and just grab whatever followed you out?"

  “There were a few more I had in mind,” Pierre shrugged, ignoring Martha’s latest comments, “but either they got sent to a different tutorial or I can’t find them.”

  “Oh would you look at that.” Martha zeroed in on an Asian guy behind Pierre. “Checking me out, are you?” She asked him with a cheeky smile.

  Target of her attention looked surprised, pointing a finger at himself. He was a big broad-shouldered and sturdy man with a strong, weathered face—square jaw and broad cheekbones that looked accustomed to being in the sun and wind. He also seemed to be the only player in the entire fort with a full set of proper gear that looked to belong in the game. He had armor made of large, metal scales that protected his torso and stomach and a white pelt strapped to it, giving him a Northern European appearance. And he was blushing furiously.

  “Yes, you.” Martha confirmed, biting her lip. “Aren’t you a big, handsome, cuddly guy, huh?”

  “I, I, I was just trying out this new identification skill.” He stammered. “Seems pointless if people know the moment you do it.” He added in a softer, barely audible voice.

  “Patience hun. It’s just basic now. Max it out and you get nudes.” She winked. “I know it for a fact from a very reliable source.”

  “Martha.” Pierre scolded her gently. “Give the poor lad a break, and don’t hit him with the usual misinformation routine.”

  “Don’t you Martha me.” She frowned. “And what are you, a walking fact check? Don’t get me wrong, I love the scenery, doom, gloom and a kinky frontier fort, but I’ve been stuck for hours with Goody Two?Shoes consultant and now, not only am I cut off from the internet but also people are NOT PANICKING. Like, what the fuck!? Where is the hysteria? You are artificially separated from your body and thrown into a world with aliens! Hello!? A little bit of horror please! Or at least some alarm! There is barely anything to work here with.”

  “Breathe,” Pierre said as soon as he found a break in her tirade. “In with the death and decay, out with the rainbow and butterflies. We will be on the same team, Martha.”

  “And?” She asked stubbornly, like a child throwing a tantrum. All that was missing was some good stomping.

  “And let’s make a deal.” Pierre continued in his even tone. “You behave with teammates, and as soon as I can, I’ll help you convince some asshole that we are on the other side of a flat earth now, and this is what they wanted to hide from us all this time.”

  Martha’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that for me!?”

  “We are friends.” He nodded sagely. “Friends help friends prey on gullibles. And don’t worry—there’ll be plenty of killing to work out your frustrations.”

  “Excuse me.” Cruz Control lifted her hand. “I’ve been quiet, but I’m off duty. So, seriously—for the love of all that’s holy—can we get a little less drunk talk and a little more sense? Or did somebody fire up a moonshine still and get the whole place lit already?

  ***

  Reed watched Hydrion leave the fort, leading a group of people behind him, and smirked. Her father, with help from Uncle Pierre, was doing exactly what she expected and wanted him to do, without her lifting a finger or participating in it.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Originally, she had planned a longer, daughter?father conversation before sending him on his merry way—likely to a day full of imp?killing and other amusements. But every time she thought she might do it, she lost her nerve. It wasn't because he was a bad father or that she was afraid of him—rather, she sucked at sincere conversations. Talking about feelings and emotions made her skin crawl, and she wanted to be anywhere else where she wouldn't have to talk about them. It was stupid. She would literally rather wrestle alligators or clean the whole house, including bathrooms, than talk to her father about who she really was. She shook out of her thoughts, returning to reality.

  Since arriving at the fort—alone, slightly disoriented, but excited—she had found more than a few of her old college friends. She’d reconnected with her uncle and even her father, and had ruthlessly relieved a few soldiers of their uniforms to replace his ridiculous robe. She had also managed to keep the military, the church, and the local government from gaining any real foothold in the player population. And now, she felt a subtle change stirring within her. With a mental command, she opened her stat sheet closed annoying pop-up windows, and scrolled down to the new entry that wasn't there before.

  Mental commands were the second-best development in the universe, right after studded clothing, and she felt she was already getting quite proficient at it. Reed had had a lot of time to study the way the system worked before she found Hydrion and had examined her stat sheet extensively.

  The new entry was the Duplicitous Anarchist story. Its summary explained that she stifled the formation of any organized government in her starting area, spreading anarchist sentiment while secretly building her own hidden organization.

  When she focused further on it, it showed a longer story of how she sabotaged each person trying for power.

  For the effort, she gained +1 wisdom, +1 intelligence, and +1 charisma.

  That wasn't too bad.

  "Hey Reed!" a girl waved at her open-palmed, wiggling her fingers.

  It was the same girl that yelled at Marcus that killing in the game wasn't possible. Reed knew her very well—they'd spent their teenage years getting into numerous troubles together. There was the time they'd "borrowed" Grace's mom's car at fourteen to drive to the Quarter, the incident with the crawfish trap that nearly got them arrested for trespassing, and that memorable summer when they'd convinced half the neighborhood kids they could read fortunes for five dollars a pop. Even though Grace had moved to a different school district during sophomore year, they still stayed great friends.

  It was Grace who invented the slightly odd greeting, meant to serve as the secret code for members of Reed's organization. Her mind worked in mysterious ways that would leave even the Lord baffled, but Reed had long since learned that Grace's weird ideas usually worked out better than anyone's sensible ones.

  The idea of forming Hydra, a secret organization meant to spread, grow, and undermine every faction unaligned with her goals, came to her while her Consultant was explaining how factions were supposed to work in the game. She couldn't have a faction though, since those were public knowledge and it would contradict the very purpose of what she was after. So she asked, nagged, negotiated, and finally set up a system framework for secret organizations, sanctioned by the system.

  She had even received an achievement for this, giving her a minor stat boost and, most importantly, an organization governing panel that she could access. Her consultant told her that it was a work in progress and was going to be a knock-off of a factional panel, giving her similar but more limited options to work with as an organization leader. And even though it was limited, it was definitely more than anyone else had at the moment, since faction leaders weren't a thing yet.

  She was glad that the system chose the time they were going to go to the concert together to throw them into this weird game. Of course, it would've been better if it waited a few hours until the concert ended and she was rightfully lit, but oh well. At least she found Grace right away and made her the very first head of her Hydra. Naturally, Reed was the hidden founder and the leader.

  Because if you had the chance to form a secret organization to take over the world—even if only in a game—with your BFF, and didn’t take it, then what the fuck were you even doing with your life?

  "I think I found myself a good place to start our work," Grace said when she walked closer, facing Reed but not looking at her.

  She was looking behind Reed's shoulder, making sure that nobody was going to listen in on them, just as Reed was looking behind her, having her back as well. Years of experience.

  It was also easy for Grace as she had ten inches on Reed.

  "That so?" Reed muttered, keeping her face expressionless.

  Remember those guys who tried to drag us into that Humans vs. Zombies thing at the party?" Grace asked, then barreled on without waiting for an answer. "They’ve merged with the boffer crowd and created one colossal, ultra?nerd alliance."

  "I thought you said they were stupid as fuck, goddamned lunatics that had too much money and time on their hands," Reed whispered.

  "Well, because they are," she nodded, "but hey, we are in a batshit crazy game, and right now they are looking like the most informed group of people around. You should hear their conversations about stats and roles and shit. They are like Navy SEALs in five-inch-thick glasses and braces."

  "Comin' in quick," Reed muttered with a grimace, seeing some guys walking their way.

  "Well, fuck you too, bitch!" Grace huffed, stepping back and crossing her arms. "You know what, I fucked your boyfriend when you passed out! We fucked like rabid rabbits for two hours right next to you!"

  Reed nearly blew their cover, biting her tongue hard to keep from laughing. A couple of boys stopped in their tracks, elbowing each other and pointing with grins, completely buying into the cliché catfight Grace had launched on the spot. To be fair, it probably wasn’t even the strangest thing they’d seen since entering the tutorial.

  "Two hours and you still couldn't get him to cum? Lawd, that's pitiful," she snorted. "What got him off finally—he put a paper bag over your head?"

  Grace mouthed an impressed 'wow' before she spun on her heel and walked away with her nose up. Reed did the same and stomped off before she lost control over her face.

  It was just as well, since Reed had no idea how to make a physical fight between them look even remotely realistic. Grace wasn’t just taller—she was a berserker, a class built for wrecking shit up—and Reed had no desire to personally test how the system kept players safe from each other. On top of that, her friend jingled with two axes at her hips, while Reed had only brass knuckles and a strong fuck that shit feeling.

  She loved Grace to pieces. The boys standing there, slack?jawed and buying every second of it, had no idea what kind of demon was worming her way into their party.

  There was little chance that anyone would remember what happened in tutorial and who stood and talked to who, but she wasn’t going to risk the project of her life on that.

  The only thing Reed hoped was that this game was not some kind of fucked-up horror genre, because she had just split up from everyone she knew well right at the beginning, like a nice plot sacrifice.

  “It’s some kind god damn joke, I’m telling you.” Hydrion heard a man saying, as his group was gathering supplies from the soldiers at the northern gate. “I got shit to do, I can’t be stuck here playing some kind of games. And what the fuck is with this omega shit!? Who comes up with that stuff!?”

  Hydrion smirked. A nation of people using imperial system in the world of metric, not accepting the Greek alphabet for rank rating. How absolutely, utterly shocking.

  “Food in a pouch for a day.” A monotonous voice of someone who repeated the same thing for hours said. “You all get one. You lose it, it’s your problem. Same with water flask. Refills will be available at camp sites along the trail. You will be provided there with a blanket. Keep in mind that we are leaving this god forsaken planet, so camps will be moving further along as we progress.”

  Hydrion inspected his prize: a pouch containing bread that could double as masonry, cheese that might outlast the stars, and meat that had been stripped of both moisture and dignity. At least the pouch itself was well?made—leather that might one day serve a purpose nobler than carrying culinary disappointments. He sniffed the water, half?expecting brimstone. Odorless. Clear. At least this liquid didn’t match the rest of this world’s misery.