CHAPTER 26

  Contracts

  The water ran green, then brown, then something approaching grey.

  Bash scrubbed until his skin felt raw, working the troll gore out from under his fingernails, the goblin blood from behind his ears, the sewer grime from places he didn't want to think about. The soap was harsh, but it was working, and right now that made it precious.

  He dunked his head under the water and stayed there for a long time, letting the heat soak his skin. The silence was almost peaceful. No screaming goblins. No collapsing tunnels. Just warmth and quiet and the distant thrum of pipes.

  When he finally surfaced, gasping, the water had gone cold and murky. He'd used more than his share. Mara was going to kill him.

  He dried off as best he could, then pulled on the clothes left for him. The shirt was rough and itchy, and the pants were barely a step up from a potato sack. He didn't care. Anything was better than a loincloth. That memory made him snort.

  He opened the door and Mara stood there, arms crossed. “Took you long enough.” She sniffed once, face tightening. “Better. Barely. Follow me.”

  Bash sniffed himself and came up with nothing. He shrugged and followed her through the narrow tunnels.

  They reached a common room with four cots and a table wedged in the corner. Patrick, Luis, and Nora sat waiting.

  Patrick’s eyes narrowed the moment Bash stepped inside. Nora looked like she wanted to bolt. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, trapped in some memory she couldn’t shake.

  Patrick spoke first. “We stay here tonight. Jill will arrange to smuggle us out of the city in the morning.”

  Bash nodded. “Fine by me.”

  Silence hung for a second before he cracked it. “So,” he said, putting on a lighter voice than he felt, “whose name is next on the ‘to-murder’ list?”

  Nora’s head snapped up. Her hands locked around the edge of the table. “His name is Chucky. He controls the West Plantations out in the Great Plains.” She said it like she was forcing poison out of her mouth.

  Bash blinked. “Amazing. Top-tier naming conventions as always. So… think I can get some new gear before we go?”

  Patrick nodded. “They’ll let you check their stores. Do not take anything valuable. We are guests.”

  Luis stretched, making it as dramatic as possible. “Honestly, Bash, you still stink. A guard dog could smell you from the other side of the city.”

  Bash straightened. “Excuse you. I bathed. I even used soap. The good kind. Maybe.”

  All three fixed him with the same expression of mild horror. Patrick delivered the verdict. “You smell like shit washed with more shit.”

  Luis snorted into his sleeve. Even Nora’s mouth twitched before she caught herself.

  Bash put on mock horror and gave a gasp. “How dare you, sir? Joking is my job! I’m going to complain to the union!”

  “Wasn’t a joke.” Patrick huffed.

  Sighing, Bash continued, “So anyways… What do we do until morning? Sit in here and suffocate? I’m already feeling claustrophobic.”

  A voice answered from the doorway.

  “No,” Jill said. “You will be taking a walk with me.”

  Everyone turned. Jill leaned against the frame like she’d been there the whole time.

  Bash stared. “Were you listening?”

  “Of course I was.”

  He grimaced. “Right. Okay.”

  Patrick stood ready to follow, but Jill flicked her hand. “Your friends can stay or roam. I only need him.”

  Bash followed her out, back into the tunnels. For a few steps, they walked in silence. Then Jill spoke without looking at him. “I talked to Catherine. The woman you pulled from the goblin cages.” She paused, letting the words settle. “Going back down there alone. Either very brave or very stupid.”

  Bash shrugged. “Probably both.”

  “Probably.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face before vanishing. “So. What is your story?”

  He opened his mouth to give the short version, but something about her made it all come out. So he talked.

  Not the surface-level summary he’d given Patrick or Luis or anyone else. He walked her through the last moments of his life, the void, the Old Village, the raid, the sewer run, the deaths, the guilt, the broken rules, the contracts. Some things he hadn’t said out loud until now. The only things he didn’t share in detail were about Shai and his class.

  When he finished, Jill nodded once. “You can break contracts,” she said, more a statement than a question.

  Bash shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it. I want to test it. Haven’t had the chance.” He trailed off, finally noticing the room they stood in. Bedrolls. Supplies. Uploads moving about. “Actually… unless…”

  Jill didn’t rush him. Didn’t prompt him. Just waited, patient and steady for him to figure it out on his own.

  Bash finally let his question out. “Do you think I can help with that? The contracts?”

  Jill’s mouth pulled into something close to a smile. “The risk of letting you into our sanctuary may be worth it after all. Follow me.”

  She led him deeper into another room. A man lay on a cot. His back and arms were torn with welts and bruises. Fresh and old. A nurse knelt beside him with a bowl of water and a rag.

  “This is Simon,” Jill said.

  Simon pushed himself upright, wincing. His eyes were hollow, the kind of empty that came from seeing too much. He looked at Bash without hope, without fear. Just exhaustion. “I was a teacher,” Simon said, his voice raw. “Before. History. Medieval stuff, ironically.” He let out a sound that might have been a laugh once. “Signed up for better job and better pay, but when I got here, they assigned me as an executioner. Said I had the build for it.”

  He held up his hands. They were large, calloused now, scarred across the knuckles. “Last week, they brought me a girl. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. Stole a loaf of bread.” His voice cracked. “I said no. First time I ever said no.”

  He didn’t need to explain what happened next. The welts on his back told that story.

  Jill’s voice was quiet. “There are dozens like him. Compelled. Punished. Bound. If you truly can break contracts, then show me.”

  Bash’s stomach rolled. “This place gets worse and worse every day.”

  Simon met his eyes. “I’ll try anything,” he said. “Please.”

  Jill and the nurse stepped back.

  Bash rubbed his palms together. “I have no idea how to do this politely.” He reached out, hesitated, then muttered, “Sorry in advance,” and slapped Simon across the face as gently as he could, but still way harder than he hoped.

  The man instantly rag dolled, flopping to his side.

  Bash jumped. “Oh shit! Shit! Okay, I swear I didn’t mean that. He okay? Please tell me he’s okay.”

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  The nurse hurried to him, checking his pulse. “He’s alive,” she said.

  Bash toggled Investigator so that he could now see the contract floating under his name. “It worked!” he shouted. “I got his contract!”

  Jill folded her arms. “How do you know?”

  For the first time, Bash hesitated. He didn’t share his skills with anyone. But the way she watched him, calm and assessing, made him want to explain. Made him want to trust her. The urge felt natural, like of course he should tell her everything.

  Investigator flared. Cold clarity sliced through the warmth, shredding the false comfort before it could take hold. His mind snapped into focus, and with it came the instinct to check her metadata.

  Her job was Compulsor, and her ability was active.

  Bash felt the blood drain from his face. He met her eyes and said quietly, “First… stop trying to compel me.” His Tactical skill triggered at the worst possible time, turning what he had hoped to be a nice request, into a demand.

  Jill’s eyes widened. Her hand went to her dagger, fingers wrapping around the hilt. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

  Bash raised both hands fast. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know how to say this stuff without sounding like a threat. I’m new at all of this.”

  Jill’s grip on the dagger loosened, but she didn’t let go. Not yet. “You resisted,” she said slowly. “No one resists.”

  “Player thing,” Bash said. “I think. One of my skills kicked in automatically.”

  She studied him for a long moment. Then her hand fell away from the weapon. “I understand. As you somehow know, I have a similar ability. It’s automatic. Second nature.”

  Bash let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “And here I thought it was just a grandmotherly charm.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m thirty-four.”

  Bash blinked. “Wow. Uh. Rough years. I didn’t… shit...” Great job, Bash. Insult the leader of the resistance. Real smooth.

  Jill shook her head but laughed, tension slipping out of her shoulders. “Yes. It has been hard. No, you don’t have to remind me.”

  She gestured toward Simon. “So. What do you mean, the contract is yours?”

  Bash shrugged. “Basically, when I defeat someone who has a contract, I get ownership. Death, unconsciousness, surrender… whatever counts.”

  Jill raised an eyebrow. “So you chose unconsciousness.”

  Bash flushed. “I panicked, okay! You kinda put me on the spot… In hindsight, surrender may have been smarter.”

  She huffed, somewhat amused. “Yes, let’s try surrender next time.”

  Simon groaned before his eyes even opened. His head lolled to the side, unfocused. The nurse steadied him, murmuring something low. Jill stood at Bash’s shoulder, arms crossed, expression carved from stone.

  Bash crouched beside Simon. “Alright. Let’s try this.”

  He started by finding Simon’s metadata. His name sat on it cleanly. Ownership transferred. Everything should’ve worked. Simon’s role should’ve been cleared. But the man still registered as Executioner, the job marker pulsing in the corner of Bash’s vision like he’d done nothing.

  Bash muttered, “Okay… why isn’t this working?”

  He tried a few phrases. Ordering him. Releasing him. Telling the system to dump the role. Nothing budged. Bash even tried a joke. “Simon says, stop following your contract!”

  Simon just blinked at him, dizzy from the slap, trying to follow.

  Bash paced back and forth. “This is ridiculous!” He stopped pacing and turned to Jill. “Can you get Luis for me? My brain’s fried, and he has the only contract I’ve ever actually broken.”

  Jill didn’t bother answering. She flicked her fingers, and a shadow peeled itself away from the wall and sprinted off before Bash even registered movement.

  Bash stared after the kid. A cold ripple tracked up his spine. “Your people… really don’t waste time.”

  Jill didn’t deny it. She didn’t have to.

  Oracle had been flashing warnings at him since he entered the underground. Arrows. Danger notifications. Target markers. All red.

  He shoved them aside, again.

  Only a minute later, Luis crashed into the room, chasing the same little shadow. “Bash! Bash, hermano, what’s happening? Are you bleeding? Dying? Arrested? The kid said it was urgent!”

  Jill lifted a hand. “Yes. He was trained to make it sound that way.”

  Luis stopped, confused. The boy stood beside him, staring up with wide eyes.

  Jill nodded toward Luis’s purse.

  Luis groaned. “Oh, for the love of… really?” He yanked out a coin and handed it to the kid, who accepted it like a solemn ritual and vanished back into the darkness.

  Bash rubbed his face. “Okay. That was the most medieval thing I’ve ever seen. Now I’m thrown off.”

  Jill tapped her foot and spoke slowly. “You were trying to remember how you broke Luis’s contract.”

  “Right. Yes. Right.” Bash turned to Luis. “Okay, what did I say? How did I break it?”

  Luis lit up, grinning widely. “Aw man, it was so damn cool. You were sitting there, all dramatic, and you went, ‘You don’t have to do this shit no more, home boy!’ And bam! My contract shattered. Felt like magic, bro.”

  Bash stared. “…Was it really that simple?”

  He turned to Simon and repeated flatly, “You don’t have to do this shit anymore.”

  Simon stared back.

  Nothing.

  Bash threw up his hands. “Nothing? Really? Come on. What else?”

  Luis scratched his chin. “Well… before that, you dropped the bombshell and told me you were a player. I remember that part. The rest is kind of a blur.”

  It clicked. Player role declaration. Then the command.

  Basic scripting. Like half the janky systems Bash had worked on in his old life. Of course, it needed a role or some sort of permissions.

  He stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and looked at Simon.

  “I am a player,” he said. “And I say you don’t have to follow your contract anymore.”

  Simon’s eyes unfocused, as something tugged deep behind them. The job marker blinked out of Bash’s HUD.

  Then Simon collapsed forward and grabbed Bash in a tight, shaking hug. Sobbing. Whispering thank you over and over. The nurse tried to keep up, patching him as he shook.

  Bash froze. The man’s tears hit his shoulder. Something inside Bash cracked open.

  He felt his own throat go tight. His eyes burned. Before he could fight it, he hugged back, trying to be as gentle as possible. Luis stepped in behind them and wrapped both in a bear hug, muttering, “You are awesome, Bash,” while thumping his back.

  They stayed like that too long. Long enough for the nurse to finish bandaging. Long enough for the room to go impossibly quiet.

  When Simon finally let go, Jill stepped forward.

  “Bash,” she said. “Follow me. I have several people gathered.”

  Bash wiped his face, still shaken. “Several people?”

  “Yes,” Jill said. “And they’re waiting.”

  The atrium was pretty big, considering, but the number of people inside made it feel tight. About thirty Uploads stood scattered through the room, some leaning against support beams, some sitting near the walls, others hovering close to the children clustered on the floor. Nine kids total, quiet but curious, their games paused the second Bash stepped in.

  Patrick, Nora, and Luis walked in behind him. Patrick’s posture was stiff, his eyes sweeping corners and exits. Nora looked like she was holding herself together by the thinnest thread. Luis stayed close to Bash, buzzing with nervous energy.

  Jill raised her voice. “Today is important. I brought someone who can begin undoing what Maximus built. A player who intends to break the system that’s held us down.”

  Bash felt pressure crawl up his spine. Public speaking. Of all things, public speaking. He’d fought raiders. He’d fought a troll. He’d slaughtered two hundred goblins in the dark. Yet somehow, a room of tired people staring at him made his hands shake.

  He stepped forward and froze; everyone stared at him in anticipation.

  Luis suddenly clapped his hands, loud and off-rhythm. “Hey! Come on! Clap for him, yeah?” He forced the grin, nudging Bash’s shoulder. “Big damn hero, right here. Give him something.”

  No one knew what to do with that. A few men blinked. Two women exchanged puzzled looks. Then one of the kids clapped their hands together in tiny, awkward claps. Another joined in. Soon all nine were clapping, entirely out of sync, barely making a sound. It wasn’t cheering. It wasn’t energy. It was pathetic in a way that almost hurt, but it took the sharpest edge off the silence.

  Bash coughed a laugh despite himself. “Thanks,” he muttered to Luis. “Real confidence booster.”

  Luis whispered back, “You’re welcome.” As if he actually did something.

  Patrick huffed through his nose. Nora didn’t smile, but her shoulders eased a little.

  Turning back to the ground, “Uh. Hi.” His voice cracked. Great start. He cleared his throat, trying to avoid eye contact. “My name is Bash. And this might sound strange. I’m still figuring it out. But if you want freedom… All you need to do is surrender to me first.”

  The room shifted, uncertainty spreading. Whispered breaths. Eyes flicking between Jill and each other.

  Jill raised her hand. “Okay, enough.” She stepped forward next to Bash, shaking her head. “We are going to do this properly. Everyone, please bow your heads and repeat after me..”

  The room obeyed. People bowed without hesitation, not because they wanted to kneel, but because they were used to following commands just to survive the day.

  Even Bash found himself bowing his head.

  Jill hissed at him low enough only he could hear, “Not you…”

  “Yeah, right... Sorry.” Bash whispered back.

  Clearing her throat, Jill spoke clearly to the rest of the room. “I,” she started, “say your name.”

  Their voices rose in uneven waves. Lara. Brent. Dalen. Marra. Shyn. Others followed. The sound filled the room, too many for Bash to remember.

  “Do surrender to you, Bash,” Jill continued, “and ask you to set us free.”

  They repeated the words, some loud, some cautious, some barely audible.

  System notifications erupted across Bash’s vision. Contract markers. Ownership flags. Dozens of bindings all shifted at once. His vision almost stuttered under the load.

  Bash’s mind flashed back to the old village temple. The man crumpled on the floor, forced to worship. The click of that tally counter. The priestess smiling through it all.

  This was different. This had to be different.

  Panic edged up his throat for a second. Then Tactical triggered. A focused jolt through his mind. Not comfort. Not emotion. Just clarity. It locked his posture, aligned his phrasing, sharpened his following words.

  But instead of commanding them to obey, he was commanding them to be free.

  “As a player, I say you are free of your contracts!”

  The room went still. No one moved. Jill’s face didn’t shift. Patrick waited without blinking. Nora’s fingers curled against her thigh. Luis bounced at Bash’s side like he was expecting there to be fireworks.

  Then the metadata broke.

  Markers vanished, and all the red lines connecting him to the contracts snapped loose. Job roles dissolved and were replaced. Flags cleared in rapid succession. A man near the corner covered his eyes as if something hit him. A woman pressed her hands to her mouth and let out a sharp, helpless sob. The younger children didn’t know what any of it meant, but they felt the change in themselves and clung to one another.

  Bash absorbed their reactions without knowing what to do with any of it. He had freed them, and now almost all of them stared at him with new expressions, way too close to reverence for his liking.