NOVEL NEXT Chapter 34: Rematch
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Marie: If I could try anything on Earth, other than you, it would be the food.
Gordon: I mostly order the same three things every day. I only get adventurous if Claire cooks something.
Marie: So … neither of us knows what we're missing, but I get to hate you for it.
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Tuesday, November 12th, 2090, about 5:00 pm MST, Montana City
"You guys are not going to believe this," said Harry.
"We've got a repeat challenger already."
"Say again?" asked Claire.
"The guy Hainan from Atalante—Circle City. Basically, he logged back in and sent us a message right away. Said he wants a rematch. Claims it wasn't a fair test of his abilities. Oh, and that you're not actually faster or stronger—just a fake."
Gordon snorted. "You know, I was polite to him, and he told me to drop dead. I don't think we owe him anything. Certainly don't think we have to sit here and listen to him whine about cheating."
"Oh, I agree," Harry said. "He's definitely full of it. But come on—think about how fun it'd be for the stream. Do you have it in you to kill the same guy twice?"
Gordon chuckled, shaking his head.
He turned back to his dinner: a nice, hearty root stir-fry. He wasn't entirely sure what all the roots were. Beetroot was obvious—its pink-red color stood out. Onion, of course. But the rest? A medley of yellow and white chunks, unlabeled and mysterious.
He speared another bite with his fork. Everything was good with butter. Claire, home late despite their streaming plans, was wolfing down her own meal, something to-go from an Indian place, all brown sauce, bright colored vegetables, and rice. Karen dozed on the table's corner next to two unopened energy drinks she'd promised to imbibe upon the stream's start—she'd had a long day at work, apparently. One of the usually-automated systems at work had needed her to ride herd on it all shift, and she'd still had studying to do afterward. Most nights, Karen's job was just "be in the room while the computers make chips"—pulling one at random for a quality check now and then. Last night, though? Last night had been a nightmare. One of the automated systems went rogue, and she'd spent her whole shift frantically running in circles, trying to figure out why there was extra solder everywhere.
Nobody bothered her—she'd shown up for the meeting, she'd be there with them in the stream, and if she needed to catch a few Z's in between, that was just what she had to do. Gordon's bathrobe, balled up, rested between her forehead and the table's surface—it had seemed the least he could do. Her blonde hair, so much finer than Gordon's own, drifted with the air conditioning and splayed out across the table and down in a waterfall off its edge to tickle his leg as her torso, half resting on the table and half on his side, rose and fell with her breath. She snored.
Harry was wearing a loud hawaiian shirt, open to the third button and exposing his pelt–Claire's term for his chest hair– in an entirely gratuitous manner, and waved around his own food, a baked potato with chicken of all things, on his fork as he spoke. "I really think it's worth it for the views."
Gordon, successfully having identified Claire's meal as butter chicken, was only half-listening. His own food, which had looked so appetizing before, was rapidly looking more dull—nothing more than varicolored cubes. Rather than lose his appetite, he snagged one of the sauce containers from Claire. Lifting the snap-on lid, he sniffed it. Tomato, smokiness, cumin, dairy. Mmmm. "Claire, I'm confiscating this sauce for the war effort," he informed her. His stepsibling, who never used all her sides anyway, glanced up at him and stuffed another mouthful in instead of commenting. He poured the creamy sauce over his veggies and gave them a stir, then luxuriated in the results.
Sometime after swallowing, he realized Harry had never stopped talking.
"...to me? Gordon?"
"Sorry," Gordon apologized, not. "Culinary heaven over here. You might have to give me and this sauce some alone time."
"Mmmmm…" moaned Karen from the tabletop. Her arm twitched, slapping weakly against Claire's leg.
"Wake up ,sleeping beauty," Claire teased, her voice rich with amusement. "Butter chicken! Yum yum yum." She held out a loaded fork and made airplane noises.
"Oookay, I'm awake," protested her victim, dodging the incoming air strike and peeling her face from a small pool of unladylike drool on the table's surface, to which some of her hair was adhered. "I'm awake."
Karen cracked both energy drinks open, blinking blearily at the drool. Gordon offered her Harry's napkin pile.
"Hey!"
Karen multitasked—one hand bringing the lukewarm energy soda to her lips, the other blindly dabbing at the table. Gordon noticed that his balled up robe was damp, but didn't think it was worth mentioning.
"I'll do the bit, okay, Harry?" asked Gordon.
Mollified, his friend nodded. "Then you are forgiven. For that, and a beet slice."
Gordon surrendered the food tax, stealing another cup of sauce while Claire was distracted with force-feeding her friend.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"...mph—fine!"
"We're going to be up for a while, you need your protein!"
"Staying power," Gordon interjected wisely. He shoveled saucy cubes with enthusiasm.
"You've got a little—" said Harry, deftly dabbing sauce from Claire's smiling face with a fingertip and popping it into his mouth. "It was just there, looked ridiculous."
Claire favored him with a steamy gaze before turning her attention back to her friend's nourishment. Harry waggled his eyebrows at a smirking Gordon.
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And the jury was in. The results were in. The polls—or whatever metric had been used—had spoken.
The most popular dungeon in their area was a labyrinth, one with a real Minotaur.
Gordon had considered it before but had always avoided it for two reasons.
The first reason was logistics. He couldn't imagine how they were supposed to clear it successfully, dragging a glass cannon like Claire around. Having a newly leveled-up tank in front of them would help, but Gordon still wasn't 100% convinced.
The second reason was team balance. He always tried to ensure that everyone on his team contributed equally, but this dungeon made that difficult. In a labyrinth, the typical strategies weren't viable:
The tank (Harry) would take the lead, absorbing everything the dungeon threw at them, while Gordon would
maybe
get a shot in. Karen and Claire would just be waiting behind them, which wouldn't be exciting.
Claire leading with an area-of-effect spell would let Claire instantly clean up everything… but also destroy the loot.
Sending Karen ahead alone would turn into an "Assassin's Paradise" run. She'd hop over the walls, kill the Minotaur, take its head, and leave—without ever solving the maze, and would also probably miss out on the treasure.
Three of his four teammates could probably solve the labyrinth. The fourth—himself? Not so much.
A gunslinger in short, curved hallways was a disaster waiting to happen. The corridors were too tight—he'd be within arm's reach of anything with a polearm. Sure, he could probably shoot first, but one shot didn't always equal one kill. It was a terrible environment for him, and the only way to succeed would be if two of his teammates sat out entirely. Or if he used a different weapon.
He'd call that Plan B.
So he had decided: this dungeon was one to avoid. Maybe for later. Maybe forever.
But Marie had requested popularity data for local dungeons, and it turned out that the labyrinth was now considered one of the most difficult. Almost no one had cleared it—and no one had achieved a full clear.
And that meant people wanted to see it done.
And that meant Gordon had to lead his group to success—or die trying.
There were no real penalties for death, but still. It would be nice to get some kind of practice in first, especially with Marie's avatar. The healbot would be central to their ability to get the work done—if she worked as advertised.
It was a weird feeling—making choices for the good of the stream, not for the team. It felt subtly wrong, but the team had voted. And—with the new income, he'd be off to Mars much sooner. Two months, rather than six. It was beginning to feel real, now.
What the team wanted, they'd get.
Gordon logged in.
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The devs, charmingly subtle, as usual.
Harry logged in next.
Gordon immediately noticed the changes: his friend's avatar's beard was now braided, his shoulders had been re-sculpted to look more rounded, and his shield had been replaced.
"What gives?" Gordon complained. "I liked the door-looking thing you used to tote around."
"I really didn't want to walk around carrying a door," Harry admitted. "Besides, I was able to trade off my hound for something a little better."
"Okay, spill," Gordon prompted.
"This," Harry explained, gesturing to his new shield, "is a Shield of Water."
"Instead of planting it in the ground like a tower shield, I point it at the enemy—and it creates a torrent of water that pushes them back with hydraulic pressure. It also fouls incoming arrows, drowns fire spells, shorts out lightning spells—and if they hit the metal while it's in torrent mode, they get sucked into an extremely high-pressure zone of the Abyssal Sea."
Gordon blinked. "Wait. This is a player-made item?"
"Yes!" Harry grinned.
"I love it. It's genius. I want twelve."
"I know, right?" Harry said, clearly pleased. "Just one problem."
"How's it gonna synergize with Karen or Claire?" Gordon nodded.
"We talked about it," Harry replied. "Karen said she can leave an approach strip for enemies to come at me, and she'll handle the other 320 degrees of attack vectors. That way, I can blast anyone who comes in straight into the lava, but we'll still have a safe route for you, Karen, and the healbot."
"That was a problem before," Gordon admitted, considering. "I think this might actually be a solution. A really nice one. That was a great purchase," he added, nodding approvingly.
"Wow, thanks, Dad," Harry said sarcastically. "I typically make really bad ones, so shut up."
Gordon looked at the large brass oval shield, its gleaming mirrored center catching the light. At first, he'd thought it was just reminiscent of Gallant's armor, but now he saw it for what it was: half of a pair of linked mirrors, capable of forming a portal.
"This could be really useful in the confined spaces of the labyrinth," he suggested.
Harry nodded. "I thought of that."
Gordon sighed. "I'm sorry—I know you have good ideas like this one."
Harry nodded, mollified.
"So, since you can't put the shield down, how are you gonna use your two-handed sword?"
Harry froze, mortified.
Gordon, barely holding back a grin, bit the inside of his cheek and focused on taking inventory of his bullets and speed loaders.
"We'll… uh…" Harry hesitated. "We'll have to rework the animations later."
"I'm sure we'll find a way," Gordon said kindly, though his tone betrayed his amusement. "First, though—I suppose I've got another duel to go to."