Mask of Humanity

As the ringing of the alarm bell in the prison grew fainter, Nicolai having made his escape, he listened attentively to his Mask as it ladled out the expected recriminations; he had not cared whatsoever about the titan’s clear issues. In fact, the moment he’d noticed them he’d simply tried to make use of its forgetful and confused state. Not Better Man behaviour, there was no denying that.

It was quite smug as it told him that if he’d shown some pity toward the titan—as it had initially suggested—and acted honourably and honestly, he wouldn’t have come so close to losing the mark of debt. It was pleased to remind him that he’d gained it back only because the Mask had helped him by having him show the proper regretful and apologetic nature.

Nicolai nodded penitently, though he felt little actual regret. Had he made a mistake? It was hard to say, since everything had worked out in the end. He’d gotten the debt back, and if he hadn’t… would it matter?

He didn’t know how valuable it actually was, but he had a suspicion it was low. In repayment for it the titan had been able to give no more than some not-particularly detailed information about Heaven and the Great Game. Information that seemed relatively basic to Nicolai; Heaven has rules. Knowing the rules is useful. The game resets at the end.

Interesting to know, but—as was often the case—none of it was quite the kind of information he truly desired. He wanted to know about deep and hidden secrets, the locations of fabled treasures, places of power, stuff that could give him some kind of significant edge.

His breath puffed out through his nostrils in a slow sigh. He needed more. He didn’t need to know that rules existed—he needed to know what they were. It was frustrating that it was so difficult to learn anything in this strange world, this strange game.

But currently he had no other sources to dig information from, and the information had ramifications which could be of use to him. It was the best he had, so he ought to think it through.

One element in particular made him view everything around him in a slightly different manner, feeling a new understanding of it. From the two facts; the Game resets over and over, and the non-Marked are something like NPC’s, the Game really was a Game.

Nicolai had not played many games in his life. In the first centuries of his existence they had been of no interest to him. All time had been reserved for his profession, and his overriding obsessions.

However, once entombed within Zero-Twelve there had been long periods with nothing to do. GRECKON had been able to switch the other Modules off, but human brains don’t work that way. A person is a singular, continuous moment, formed from electric signals pulsed between neurons.

Since shutdown was not an option, and putting him in some kind of empty box would have likely driven him insane to a degree where he was no use to them, they’d settled on providing him distractions. This came in the form of a full VR suite.

Introduced to the peak of VR gaming, Nicolai had played every game with the same aim in mind. Fighting things. For many of them he had never left the first areas, as he fixated on mastering the combat system before doing anything else. Typically he hadn’t lasted long before growing bored.

It was only in PvP games or those with advanced AI where he had stuck around, as thinking and learning opponents were much more interesting to fight. In these, too, he had made little effort to play the actual “game,” whatever that might be, excepting the amount required to make himself able to compete in PvP.

That done he had spent the rest of his time simply seeking out more fights. The fact that it had all simply been numbers in a computer somewhere had led him to see no value in actually improving his “character” beyond the absolute minimum to enjoy himself in combat.

Regardless, he was aware of the general shape many of these games had had. A vast and open world. Things to do, people to talk to, some kind of overarching story, questlines and so on.

Since this Great Game reset to the same state each time, it could be considered similar to some of those games, which had also possessed a start and end point. This also fitted with the Quests and Challenges, and even his Mark which was effectively an in-game UI. In spite of these hints, prior to this Nicolai hadn’t really considered the Great Game any kind of game, and in truth he still didn’t except for a desire to see if he could find any “mechanics” to abuse. To him it was simply a new way of living, his new reality.

As to the difference between Marked and non-Marked, it suggested to him the non-Marked were like NPC’s, beings who were simply a part of the fabric of the game. Typically this should mean they had no true agency, nor awareness of the game. Kleos and others he’d interacted with seemed to have plenty of agency or at least desire for agency, and goals of their own. Kleos certainly didn’t feel like an NPC. But he had noted that Kleos, when asked, had little to say about the Great Game.

The head simply said that it was for training Cultivators, and didn’t seem at all concerned to be within it, in a way that suggested the fact didn’t truly register. That, taken with the titan’s continuous memory resets when pressed on the Game, but not on other matters, seemed to confirm that the beings within the Game shared the same unawareness as NPC’s would. There was also the mention that this world had not been within the Great Game prior to some point in the distant past. So, perhaps beings that became non-Marked in the Great Game underwent some strange effects, such as becoming unable to see it for what it was.

The main takeaway for Nicolai was that: if this thing reset to the same or similar state each time, then were there people aware of that, able to use the information from previous cycles? Were there other Marked out there who were playing the game by choice, and who had studied guides from those who had gone before them?

The thought was quite worrying, but for now it was just a thought and Nicolai saw little point dwelling on it. The other takeaway was that if it was a game, then there should be systems and rules that could be bent or broken, a way to take advantage. He’d have to be on the lookout.

All of this fuelled a determination within him. To find the Lizard. The Lizard would have the answers he sought, he felt sure of that. The Great Eye’s vision, from long ago, had given him that sense. A sense of ancient knowledge, waiting to be uncovered.

After retreating to the safe-place, Nicolai accepted his reward for the Titan’s Quest. The Reward Shrine that rose depicted—perhaps unsurprisingly—a scaled-down version of the Titan, which sat with legs crossed. There lay a box in its lap, and two more on outstretched hands.

Nicolai examined it.

Reward Shrine (Tier 1)

These shrines appear to grant rewards to Marked who have completed a Quest or Challenge within the game. They come in various types and tiers.

From this Shrine you may claim one reward from three options, and are also granted an additional reward after choosing.

This particular shrine depicts a Titan, a race known for their skill at craftsmanship and battle. They are an Imperial Slave Race hailing from their home-world Viggarth, and are found throughout the Material, serving many roles.

Nothing about them all having dementia, lending credence to his belief it had been more about the questions asked than the one giving the answers. One of the items was a gun, a Bizon SMG. He could get the same from the Trade Link. The next was a box containing three Rejuvenating Orbs, which drew his eye. They could certainly be useful. Finally, a large bag simply holding fifty Oma crystals.

He opted to go for the Rejuvenating Orbs. He should soon be receiving more Oma crystals, either through trade or from the activities of those he’d sent into the prisons, and he could get on with fewer crystals. Not having enough Rejuvenating Orbs was much more problematic.

###

Later that day, Nicolai, along with Beth, John, Cait, Karl and Elena, were lugging three large sports-bags packed with guns, ammo, and extras down a tunnel. They emerged into an expansive open room, ringed by occasional second floor balconies poking out.

He’d chosen this place carefully. The spot they’d emerged from was one where the room narrowed, two balconies above, stairs from them coming down to a raised patio kind of area, clustered around a little hole-in-the-wall type establishment. Rare to see, as the castle seemed generally function-over-amenity, but Nicolai thought this must have been some kind of little cafe, long ago. Within the room there were a number of large stone planters with bare earth, and more rooms opening into it also had the appearance of shops and eateries.

Regardless of what it had been, it was a good defensible position. The balconies, which fronted the cafes second floor, had stone walls, as did the raised patio. The cafe itself was good cover, and they had an exit right behind them to flee through if things got dicey.

‘John and Cait, take position on the left balcony. Karl and Elena, on the other one. Beth, with me.’ Nicolai gestured to the ground before the walled area. ‘Dump the stock here.’

The others dropped the bags then moved off to their positions, fingering their weapons. Karl now held one of the new rifles, as Nicolai had learned the man had a background in the police, which coupled with his bionic eye meant he was likely the best shot after Jo. He’d also rather the man had a rifle than an SMG while near to him; in close range many bullets were better than one.

Everyone wore black ski-masks, which with their military-style techno-camouflage fatigues, tactical vests and the guns they carried, gave them a resemblance to military insurgents or cheap private police. Put more simply, they looked dangerous. That was good. In Nicolai’s opinion, one of the best ways to avoid a fight was to look ready for one.

He wasn’t wearing his shimmer poncho, having placed it in the belt-bag it had come with. He didn’t intend to casually wear it around people not in his group, as that would mean pointlessly revealing one of his capabilities.

Today was a test.

Earlier on, he had headed to the location the communist he’d killed near the Trade Link had specified. There he’d found the entrance to what seemed a decent sized complex within the castle. There had been balconies around the opening with guards. Mostly armed with bows, but a few guns presumably looted from chosen. Nicolai had managed to hail one of the sentries over Local, and in short time a leader had emerged, to whom Nicolai had expressed his intention to trade, and given a location. Now, here he waited, bracketed by the others.

Threat Analysis alerted him, one of the drones he had spread through the area catching movement. A large group, armed mostly with the typical mish-mash of weaponry taken from undead, though a few held guns, were on the approach.

They emerged through the main entrance across from him and the others, or at least some of them did. Through drones he saw the rest of them spreading, looking for alternate routes into the room, and he saw some emerge from higher balconies or side entrances. Others were looking to get behind them.

His lips pulled into a humourless grin. Already these guys were looking to do something shifty.

‘Your people who are circling us had better stop, immediately,’ he called out to the group who’d come in through the large entrance on the far side of the room from him. Leading from the front was a tall, severe looking woman, dark hair pulled back in tight bun, hefting a pump-shotgun, grey eyes taking in Nicolai and the rest of the group behind him. She had two bionic arms, and looked like the leader. Beside her were two men, one a blocky middle-aged fellow who Nicolai saw with his Cultivator’s eyes had an advanced Soul Sense around him. A Cultivator, he also had a holstered pistol and a pair of knives on his belt. The next was a tall man who only had one normal eye, the other replaced by a bulging artificial visual unit. He also had a neural-enhancer, visible at the back of his neck, and held a submachine-gun.

These three were their heavy-hitters, the leader and her two elites.

‘We’re simply making sure this isn’t a trap,’ the leader called out in return.

Nicolai smiled at that. ‘If they don’t stop circling behind us, this trade is over and we open fire. Your people stay on your side, we stay on ours.’

She frowned, but after a moment the groups they’d sent out wide paused, then started to return. These people might have few Trade Link goodies, but like all humans from earth they could talk over Local.

‘How’s this work, then?’ she asked, peering up at four on the balconies behind Nicolai and letting out a dismissive little snort.

Nicolai wasn’t sure what the dismissiveness was about, except perhaps simply to communicate “I’m not impressed,” He only counted four guns total amongst these people. He and the other five had a gun each, and good cover to shoot from. If they fought it would be in his favour. These “communists” had numbers, but he’d chosen his location carefully. With good cover and good weapons, he and the others should be able to handle this group.

So long as none of the other group got behind them, thus the warning, and the drones he had Threat Analysis send out further afield behind them, searching for any other sneaky squads looking to get behind them from a wider angle.

‘I have weapons and ammo.’ Nicolai waved at the bags beside him, then looked her over pointedly. ‘Not to mention, earth clothes, rather than rags. I told you this earlier, when we first spoke, did I not? And you, I believe, have points-tags. Give us those, and we give you these.’

The woman came towards him, crossing the expanse of the room between them, bracketed by her henchmen, the rest of them watching, tense and still, from the outskirts of the room. As they drew close the Cultivator with her extended his Soul Sense, eyes fixed on Nicolai who extended his own, and their Soul Senses briefly clashed in the space between. An aggressive kind of handshake, a test of strength. Nicolai let the man extend, pressing into Nicolai’s Soul Sense which he allowed to give.

He saw the man smirking, then that smirk transformed into a scowl when Nicolai’s Soul Sense lunged at him and shoved the guy back. He found it surprisingly easy.

Nicolai always beat Beth in their Soul spars, and it was apparent that Beth was significantly better than this man, who fought like a child in comparison. He’d have to make a point of having more sparring sessions with her.

Nicolai could sense the Cultivator wasn’t happy. He decided to push the man a little, figuring it was better to determine where everyone stood now rather than later. So he shone a broad, irritating smirk at the Cultivator, who scowled back, and he felt prideful anger pulse from the man’s Soul Sense.

The man sneered and took an aggressive step forwards. Silver light twisted around his hand, and Nicolai felt ripples through the Aura. A Symbiote being activated.