Fantasy Justice: Incarceration
Chapter 7

Wednesday, March 3rd, 2060 — Same Day

Felorius, Unholy Alliance Territory

May awoke to a bleating sound in her ears. She opened her HUD and mentally pressed the clock to turn off the alarm—the controls were visible even in the dark. Then she sat up in her bed on the bottom bunk.

She was in a tiny room, which contained only two bunk beds as furnishings. There was a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She stood to reach for the chain and turned it on. Though there was also a small, barred window in the room, May had closed the shutters on it last night. She had not wanted the sunlight to disturb Sara, as knew it could bother vampire players.

However, she was alone in the room. This place was identical and adjacent to the one she had rented previously. May had abandoned that room to Clare in favor of privacy—such as it was—for her romantic rendezvous.

She was dressed in her underwear at the moment—the adult flag had lapsed when the women had fallen asleep, and it was literally impossible to remove her bra and panties without it. Said flag could only be set in private, indoor locations to prevent public nudity from marring the company’s many shows. And she imagined that flag had also alerted some company worker that there was sex footage to sort through. The thought disgusted her.

May manipulated the inventory controls, and her usual outfit materialized. She left her room and went to knock on Clare’s door.

Clare soon opened it, holding the newbie strategy guide in one hand. “What is it, Roberts?”

Good morning to you too. “Do you know where Sara is?”

“She left for Queen’s Square to buy a few things. She said to wait for her.” Clare closed the door.

May rubbed her hand over her face in frustration before knocking on the door again. It opened. “Why don’t we wait for her by the trolley stop, then?” she asked in a barely polite tone after Clare reappeared.

“Fine.” Clare dematerialized the book into her inventory.

May had no idea how Sara managed to tolerate this woman. She led her unpleasant companion out of the building.

As they exited onto the steps out front, May saw Sara approaching. “Good morning,” Sara said with a wave.

“Hey.” May waved back. Though the street was mostly empty, an occasion pedestrian or rider passed by. They all met up on the sidewalk.

“Sorry to sneak out, but I didn’t want to wake you. I couldn’t get any sleep.”

“That’s normal for the first night on Chronomil,” Clare said.

“Oh, Clare, I got you some things. A shield, a plate bikini, and some nicer shoes than those bags.”

“I haven’t agreed to work with you yet. I don’t want your charity.”

“It was only a thousand gold—I really don’t mind. But if you insist, you’re welcome to give it all back if things don’t work out.”

“I will. Even if we do work together, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“It is to me. ...Thank you for your help.”

May was unable to see as the other two women manipulated their inventory controls to transfer the items. But she did witness Clare’s feet glow as the ugly bags were replaced by plain shoes. “You don’t think you’re being a little too trusting?” May asked Sara.

“Whomever we end up running dungeons with, each of us will need to trust others with our lives.” It was a sobering reminder. May’s instinct was that Sara was on the level, but she trusted the redheaded woman about as far as she could throw her.

Clare tried to put on her plate bikini next, but it materialized over her clothes. She crossed her arms in front of her chest in embarrassment.

May saw an opportunity for mischief. “You’re doing it wrong. The clothing order shifts automatically if you try to dematerialize the peasant outfit.”

“Clare—” Sara tried to warn her.

Perhaps she was too distracted to think clearly, but Clare followed this deliberately poor advice and was left wearing only the plate armor bikini. She desperately tried to cover herself with her arms. Her cheeks also turned red.

“Were you raised by nuns or something?” May asked, laughing.

“May!” Sara said disapprovingly. She turned to Clare. “Put the peasant outfit back on first.” Clare did so, though this brought her back to her original problem. “Now go to the ‘outfit’ category in your inventory and move the plate bikini so it’s before your underwear but after the rest of your clothes.”

Clare’s entire outfit glowed white, and it rematerialized in the correct order. “You bitch,” she said bitterly to May.

She snickered. “Your dumb ass fell for it. ...Dumb, but shapely.”

“Would you two please try to get along? I seriously just got done saying that we need to work on trusting each other,” Sara said, exasperated.

Her new friend was turning out to be a bit of a buzz-kill, though at least she was fun in other ways. May turned to Clare. “Sorry.” ...that you’re such a goddamn idiot.

Sara clearly picked up on her insincerity, and gave her a skeptical look. She sighed. “All that aside, let’s see how the shield looks.” Clare materialized her sword and shield. The shield was made of the lightweight cold iron metal and had an oval shape. “You look nice. Does your armor fit okay? The blacksmith said it should shape itself to be supportive.”

“It’s fine,” Clare said, seemingly self-conscious at her attention. She shifted her sword and shield back into her inventory.

“We should get going,” Sara said. They walked in the direction of the trolley stop, with Clare once more following behind the others.

The conversation continued. Sara was busy explaining the spell system to Clare by the time they approached the trolley line. But she fell silent at the sound of crying nearby. The three exchanged confused looks, and headed toward the alleyway the noise was coming from.

A short distance inside it they found a sobbing young woman sitting on the ground with her back to a wall. Her face was buried in her hands. “Are you okay?” Sara asked, her voice filled with concern. As she approached, the distraught inmate looked up.

The prisoner had long brunette hair drawn into a single braid that rested over her shoulder. Her player race was goblin, which gave her gently pointed ears and green skin—by the light shade, May assumed she had been fair-skinned in the real world. She was short and cute, with slightly thick eyebrows. They were nice though—May’s late grandmother probably would have called them “on fleek.”

She wore a short-sleeve, dark green dress with a flat, lacy white collar. A silver rosary hung around her neck. She also had black stockings and shoes.

As May looked to her, a nameplate appeared on her HUD:

Parisa Tehrani

XP 0% | I1100213

Murder1, NRC CEO

It was a little creepy to think that over two hundred more people had been dumped in this game since Sara and Clare’s arrival the previous afternoon. May had to wonder at the crime. She knew NRC stood for the National Robotics Corporation, the largest producer of robots and computer hardware in the world. And if she remembered correctly, the CEO’s name was—or it seemed, had been—Tehrani as well.

“I’m Sara, and this is May and Clare. We’re also recent arrivals.”

May was a little embarrassed that her mind immediately jumped to such a cynical concern, but a fourth cute teen would make for a useful addition to the potential party. Unfortunately, this girl seemed weak. But maybe she was just feeling temporarily overwhelmed.

“I—I’m Pari.” She got to her feet. Like Sara, she had a gentle tone, but unlike her there was no confidence evident.

“You look less than thrilled to be here,” May noted wryly.

She managed an almost laugh. “You could say that.” She then wiped away her tears. “When I arrived, a bunch of men started yelling at me. I suppose they took exception to my name—they seemed to think I was Arab, even though my family’s Persian. Not that it should make a difference either way.”

It sounded to May like White Rights had struck again. “Try not to let it get to you. Those bastards don’t have any real power in here.”

“How did you end up in this alley?” Sara asked.

“I ran for the trolley to get away. But I was too freaked out to calibrate the map controls, and I got lost. Everyone was staring at me, so eventually I got off to get away from them.”

“Is there somewhere you wanted to go?” Sara seemed to have a talent for comfort—Pari seemed much less upset now. She still spoke timidly though.

“Yes. St. Maximilian’s Cathedral. ...Before...before all my trouble started, I wanted to become a nun. At least I can still do that in here.”

Up until this point, Clare had been silently observing the proceedings. “And just what was that trouble?”

“Watch it,” May said to her, annoyed. Pari seemed so fragile, it was difficult not to feel a little protective of her. If she actually was a murderer, this had to be the best performance May had ever witnessed. And besides all that, the demon player did not want any more talk of their crimes—her own circumstances were too painful to speak of, and Sara still had her secret about her politics.

“Let’s not pry,” Sara suggested gently.

Pari looked down briefly. “I’d really rather not talk about it.”

“There are some benches near the trolley stop,” Sara said. “Why don’t we have a seat while you calibrate your controls—I’d say the map and the report button are the most important things. You can also toggle the ability to receive PvP contests. We’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

Pari nodded. “Thank you.”

They left the alleyway for a bench and sat down. Nearby was a bridge over the tracks. May and Sara sat protectively around Pari, with Clare standing nearby and looking mildly impatient. As the conversation continued, trolleys arrived once per minute, allowing passing inmates on and off.

There was quiet for a time, until May spoke. “So, any other plans for the inside? Or are you gonna be like one of those, uh...shut-in nuns?”

Pari laughed slightly. “Cloistered. But no, I’m hoping to support the Church’s charitable works on inmate sustenance. I understand that there’s trades in the game for making gold.”

“I think that’s a good cause,” Sara said. “I’m hoping to give if I have any gold left over from my Invasion Day preparations.”

“You’re going to fight on Invasion Day?” Pari asked fearfully.

“I hope so. Of course, I’ll have to get at or near max XP first. And there’s so many expenses—potions, siege ammo, hiring NPCs to fill out the castle’s defenses. Raiding is the only way to cover it all. But I think preventing senseless executions is worth the risk.”

“I’m not sure if I want to leave the safe areas,” Pari admitted. “But I wish I could help...” She turned to May. “Do you have the same plans?”

“I’m only interested in fighting on Invasion Day for my own sake,” May said. “And anyone else I decide I care about. But that still means defending the castle. Some inmates who are afraid it’ll fall try hiding in the city or the wilderness. But they take much higher casualties than even the defenders. That’s why most townies nestle themselves safely in the castle interior for the battle.

“With whatever other gold I make, I’m gonna get a hold of all the luxuries I can. I was thrown in here to die—so if I can live large instead, I think of it as a big ‘fuck you’ to Fantasy.”

“I think you’re all being foolish,” Clare said. “Helping a bunch of killers and rapists, collecting virtual amusements...the only reason to fight in this game is to protect yourself.”

“I don’t remember anyone asking what the hell you think.”

“May, she’s entitled to her opinion.” Sara then looked to Clare. “You could phrase it more tactfully, though.”

May made a skeptical noise, and was supremely annoyed when Clare simultaneously did the same. She wanted to have as little in common with the standoffish inmate as she could.

“Do all of you think townies are cowards then?” Pari asked quietly.

“No,” Sara said.

“Yes.” Way to be, Clare.

“I definitely wouldn’t say it that way,” May said, looking to the aspiring tank with annoyance. “Not everyone has the nerve for fighting. It’s not a big deal.”

“Wanting to be peaceful isn’t a bad thing,” Sara added.

“Yeah, but...” Pari trailed off uncomfortably.

Sara tried to put a comforting hand on Pari’s arm, but drew back after the separation field reacted. “If it would make you feel better, you can at least train at fighting. If it turns out you aren’t any good at the game, then you can walk away from violence without regret. And if you do have some talent, it will still be your choice.”

“We were on our way to some training exercises,” May added. “They’re held weekdays just outside the northeast city gate, but still inside the safe area. You could come with.”

“I’ll stop by after I check in at the cathedral—I’m expected there.” Pari paused. “You guys don’t sound like you’re scared at all. I mean, I know the computer-controlled monsters act in predictable ways. But the hunters...?”

“It’s not all bad,” May said. “Sure, they’re dangerous—but they’re also worth one percent XP per kill.”

“I won’t pretend I’m not scared of hunters,” Sara added. “But there are a number of factors in our favor. Not all hunters actually go after inmates—some are just upper middle class-types who buy an account for bragging rights. They run a dungeon on the weekend with their buddies, like it’s a sport or something.” May did not miss her distaste when she described this. “Some hunters help inmates instead, and even join our parties—the company doesn’t care, since they get paid either way.

“But most of the aggressive hunters aren’t on Chronomil and don’t play full time. They aren’t on the internal Fantasy network so they can suffer from lag. And their neural controls are harder to use, since they still have their skulls in the way.

“Of course, there are also dangers. Unlike monsters, they can land a crit—an instant kill shot to the heart or brain. And unlike inmates, they can never be permanently defeated. They lose ten percent of total XP on death, but an hour later they can log in again. They also have instant player communications, which we lack.

“...A handful of extremely wealthy and wasteful hunters can buy all sorts of advantages—increased strength, instant max XP, raid gems to enhance their stats, and mountains of extra gold. Those perks cost a quarter of a million dollars each.”

“I hadn’t even heard about that,” May admitted. “What a bunch of assholes.”

Naturally, Clare had to open her fucking mouth once more. “It’s their right to spend their money however they choose. Personally, I consider Fantasy a vulgar sport—taking a life should be treated more seriously. But it’s all perfectly legal. And I’d rather try to fight off a hunter than a lethal injection.

“This place is better than most of its inhabitants deserve.”

All three of the other women stared at her. “You’re some piece of work,” May said irritably. For once, Sara did not protest. She seemed uncomfortable, however.

“How can you stand being put in here?” Pari whispered to Clare, upset once more. “I’d almost rather be dead than lose my body like this.”

“There’s no sense in whining about what can’t be changed.”

“Clare, honestly,” Sara reprimanded her. She then looked to Pari. “I think it’s awful to perform medical procedures that ignore informed consent. But personally, I don’t have any objection to the idea of living in a virtual environment itself.”

“What could possibly be good about it?”

“Well, there’s a lot of little advantages to being freed of your body,” Sara noted. She smiled comfortingly. “Like, you never have to shave anything because your hair doesn’t grow.”

“Hell, you don’t need to bathe either,” May said. “Dirt, mud, sweat—they all just disappear after a few minutes.”

“Your hair never gets tangled—even if it’s really windy, it just sort of falls back into place.”

“That’s not much of a concern for me.” May tapped her head to indicate her extremely short hair. Pari smiled slightly.

“There’s no need to trim your nails...that’s very convenient.” Sara shared a knowing look with May.

“Forget brushing your teeth.” The demon player was increasingly enjoying herself as they went back and forth.

“No reason to use concealer on perfect skin.”

“No ear wax.”

“No eye boogers.”

“No booger boogers.”

“No aging—the only wrinkles you’ll ever have on your brain.”

“No injuries.”

“No illness.”

“And say goodbye to your period!” May said this loudly enough to draw stares from passers-by, but she was having too much fun to care. Pari laughed.

“You’ll never feel hungry again. You can eat as little as you like.”

“Or as much as you can afford! With no weight gain, or need to even use a bathroom.”

“Will you two stop making a spectacle of yourselves?” Clare asked irritably.

May had run out of ideas anyway. Pari at least was amused. “Thank you both. I really needed that. ...And I feel ready to go now.”

“Did you calibrate your controls?” Sara asked. Pari nodded.

“Hopefully we’ll see you later on,” May said. “Northeast gate.”

As they were headed in opposite directions on the trolley, the other inmates parted company from Pari. May did not know much about the shy young woman, but she found herself hoping she would join their party. Assuming there is one.

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