There was enough material to finish the current story in the best-selling Ballad of Lily series of mythical erotica shorts, Billy noted with a grim smile. But if he was going to continue sourcing “inspirational” material, he was going to have to get his own hands dirty.

  Dirty, he snorted. My sister’s a dirty birdie. I could never make half of this shit up myself. When he’d started writing stories inspired by her honest-to-gods actions within The Realm Online, he’d experienced more than a passing moment of shame and distress. Shame at his own actions, of course, but also a distinct wash of embarrassment and incredulity at the depths of her depravity. He may have still been a virgin...but he was a very well informed one when it came to fantastical interspecies, uh, relations.

  He checked the time. 8:31 pm on a school night. “Oh, well. I’ll just log a couple hours.” Luckily, two hours of real-life time equated to half a day in the game world. It would be more than enough time to take care of any volunteer moderator tasks that might be accumulating. Plenty of time, as long as he didn’t let himself get sucked into any raids with his friends from his one-time guild, The Legendary Supersuckers. Now that he was a mod, there were just less sticky questions around conflicts of interest, if he didn't openly associate with anyone.

  Popping open his haptic keypad, his neural implants activated. Without so much as blinking, he transitioned into an immersive virtual reality representation of his room...a highly idealized, much tidier version. Without so much as twitching in real-life, he stood and padded over to his closet, on which hung a full-length mirror. He took a moment to admire his avatar.

  No longer a scrawny, pimply teenager with matted blonde hair and pale complexion, he more resembled a Norwegian male supermodel--the kind that might be featured on the cover of a Historical Viking Romance novel--wearing little more than a loincloth. He cheesed at his reflection and worked a couple of poses that highlighted his cut bodybuilder physique.

  The reflection of his hand reached out, then grasped a hold of the door handle. He pulled it open and stepped into a cavernous closet, densely filled with various fur-hide outfits. The door swung shut behind him, as he moved further into the depths of the closet. This Narnia-style portal shit never gets old, he marveled, suddenly giddy like a little kid waiting in line for Star Wars all over again. Only, this wasn’t going to be some shitty, half-baked story. This was the good shit. Episode IV good. If only he’d been alive in 1976…

  Still, who from 1976 would have really imagined just how friggin’ cool video games would be in 2036? Fully immersive, infinitely reactive to personal narrative choices, playable by people all around the world. Well, the ones who weren’t climate crisis refugees.

  The world...transitioned...as he stepped out into the middle of the main square of the city of Crystal Falls, the capital of the human lands unsurprisingly known as The Falls. He blinked up at the midday sky, a glorious summer blue. Looking down, he inspected his body, unsurprised to find that his avatar was wearing not much more than he had been in his room. Aside from his glorious, legendary warhammer, that is… He resisted the urge to reach back and whip it out. Openly wielding a weapon in a public space? A big no-no around the law-abiding citizenry, never mind the city guard.

  “Hey, it’s Bronan the Barbell,” called out a voice from across the square.

  Billy--no, Bronan--quickly scanned the innumerable inhabitants bustling about on business, drawing attention away from countless more who were standing unnaturally still. All assorted around a large fountain, replete with a crystalline sculptural depiction of a dragon standing tall and triumphant, a geyser of water continually erupting from its mouth into the basin below.

  A roguish individual, their face obscured by their hooded cloak, stood leaning against the retaining wall of the fountain. Unlike the many idlers, no doubt taking a leak or taking a smoke break, this player had a casual, practiced air to their stillness. Had they wanted to blend into the crowd, Bronan had little doubt that this individual could. After two years of obsessively playing The Realm Online, he had a pretty good eye for talent. Some players just had that extra bit of swagger that came with a little bit of confidence...and a shit-ton of skill. As Bronan and the rogue locked gazes, the mystery player lifted a hand and waved.

  He resisted the urge to cheat and use his volunteer moderator powers to pull up a roster of the zone’s occupants, instead taking a moment to straight and flex his bulging pectoral muscles. Barbell, did he call me? Well, I’m happy to play that up. His actual class, as far as such things informally existed, was modeled after the Barbarian archetype. He was a big fan of the brawl and berserk mode of melee warfare, in particular.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Grinning as his pecs danced along to the rhythm of his footsteps, he closed the distance between himself and the stranger. The flow of city-folk and adventurers gave him a wide berth, parting like water around his hulking warrior mass. For the most part. He drew a few admiring stares, both from male and female avatars, along with more than a few chortles and guffaws from city guard and street vendors.

  “Hail, stranger,” Bronan said, as he approached the hooded, lean-framed figure. Now that he was within short range, he could make out a utility belt and a rucksack. Yup, definitely a rogue. Standing out in the open, presumably, he wasn’t actively snatching coin purses from the locals.

  “Bronan,” the rogue said, the voice a gender-ambiguous alto.

  “Yes? I’m afraid you have me at the advantage.”

  “My name doesn’t matter, although I’m sure you could look it up if you wanted to.” Bronan could make out the ghost of a smile.

  Bronan shrugged. “Have it your way. What do you want? Did you call me over to admire my character’s...build?” He flashed a dashing smile, then started to make his muscles dance again for the rogue’s benefit.

  The rogue clapped, then produced a silver coin in their hand, flicking it toward Bronan. “Your sister’s right,” they said with a dismissive laugh. “You are a buffoon.”

  “You know my sister?” He felt the faint stirrings of hope. Maybe he could buy this player’s loyalty and secure himself another spy…

  “I know mind may be a dump stat for you, Bro, but honestly...do you go out of your way to sound like a moron?”

  “Well, fuck you too,” Bronan replied, his hand halting halfway down toward his purse. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the player to buy off, after all.

  “I’m here to deliver a message.”

  “Fine. Make it quick--I don’t have all day.” Bronan felt himself already getting twitchy. He didn’t log on to dally about with his sister’s guildmates. It was getting on time to fuck some shit up and find more loot to pawn off for prestige points.

  The rogue reached up for his rucksack and slung it off their shoulder. “One sec,” they said, rummaging about what might just be a bag of holding. “Ah, here it is.”

  “Holy balls, dude,” Bronan exclaimed, as the rogue dropped a severed head off at his feet. Blood was still dripping from the spinal column. “Warn me before you do that shit!” He peered down at the face, figuring he was supposed to recognize whoever the victim might be. Not ringing any bells, he thought, disgust slowly making way for confusion.

  “Recognize your friend?”

  “Friend?” Bronan knelt to the ground and took a closer look. “Umm, no?” This mystery rogue, whoever they were, clearly didn’t know him--despite their connection to his sister. If they knew him better, they’d know that he didn’t have friends.

  The rogue let off a theatrical sigh. “Whatever. I told your sister this message was unnecessary. But, no, she just had to make sure you received this as soon as you logged in. I’ve been waiting here all freakin’ evening.”

  “My sister’s a cunt. Duh.”

  “Hmmph. Well, your sister’s none too happy about this unicorn book. Honestly, I wouldn’t figure someone with your mind would be capable of stringing together multiple words, let alone pages and pages of paragraphs.”

  “Well, fuck you too,” Bronan said, smirking as he lifted to his feet. Despite the insulting tone, he was happy to know his books were having their intended effect. Namely, ruining his sister’s life. On the other hand, it wouldn’t do for his in-game reputation to suffer.

  “Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not wrong. I’m no good with words.” And...I know a certain mystery rogue who I can work into my next story. He smirked as the rogue started digging around in his rucksack again. Now what?

  The rogue withdrew a red coin and flicked it toward Bronan, who caught it reflexively.

  A crude representation of his likeness was etched upon one surface. He turned it over, already knowing what he’d see. Death. So, his sister’s guild was declaring open war on his guild-less character. Because he wasn’t in a guild, they couldn’t directly challenge him in sanctioned PVP--but what they could do, they had.

  An insult on the tip of his tongue, he lifted his head, only to find that the rogue had vanished. No doubt they’d be happy to get back to playing the game, instead of dicking around playing messenger for petty family disputes.

  He chewed on his lips, pondering. A death mark would allow them to put a bounty on his head. While he would be safe within the confines of the city, as soon as he stepped out into the wilds, he’d be fair game for any seeking to cash in, whether they be player or non-player characters.

  This new development was going to alter his plans for the night.