Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

Like any kid from the south, I grew up around an overpopulation of game hunters. Some were the exact redneck stereotype you’d expect. Scruffy beards, beater trucks with mounted antlers, mouthy bumper stickers haw-hawing their truth to anyone with the misfortune of being in the rearview, and more flagrant open-carry than a third world war zone. Others were less rote. Bankers, managers, government officials skipped the accouterment, but come November, would pack up their transit and join the oil-slicked expedition to Somervell County, eager to get the jump on Whitetail season.

I’d always regarded both varieties with a sort of distant caution, unable to come to any other explanation for the enthusiasm beyond a primal excitement to legally cull something.

The last month had granted perspective on the topic.

It was about so much more than the kill. It was about the anticipation. The patience. Long periods of waiting, tracking, and searching, all building up to an often terrifyingly brief window to act, where the painstaking efforts of the lead up could be lost with a single misplaced step. It was the adrenaline of landing the final blow, and the internal satisfaction that came with knowing that in order to get here, you did everything right.

There was still a part of me that resisted. Recognized that Hastur and the Order put me in this position. Of the Users in Sunny’s faction we’d hunted, I’d spared who I could. Naturally, a person backed into a corner would do or say anything to keep breathing, which made Azure a priceless resource when it came to evaluating them on a case-by-case basis. The psychopaths, predators, and truly loyal we put down. The rest were remanded to Kinsley’s custody. I told myself that I wasn’t beyond the pale. That I was just doing what needed doing, and once it was done, I could bury it and pretend it hadn’t happened, just like before.

I hoped that was true.

Even a floor above the hideout and out of range, I could feel the tug, the insistent reminder that there was nothing there and I was better suited moving on. It was getting easier to identify and ignore, but the strength of the enchantment had me worried.

Because Sunny didn’t seem like the type to cast it himself. He was a combination of speed and brutal strength that typically required sacrificing all avenues of arcane development. Either he’d somehow stashed and spent an astronomical amount of spells on a magic item capable of casting the enchantment—unlikely, given how swiftly and decisively he’d been cut off from his resources—or there was an unknown third party who just happened to be a powerful mage.

Neither felt right. We’d been methodical in isolating him from contacts and allies. If there was someone else in there, they were completely unknown by the rest of Sunny’s people, and unless we’d missed something huge, they weren’t with the order.

So who the hell are they?

I watched from above the abandoned walkway, as Sae traveled through the affected area, eyes blank, and tensed, fingers gripping the railing tightly.

Almost exactly in the center, with no warning, Sae stopped a couple stores down from me. I moved further down the walkway, lining myself up a little off to the center of where she was standing. Once I was in position, Sae slowly turned. Her insectile eyes refracted red behind her mask, and her mouth split in a wicked smile that was all Azure.

Crack.

Sae dropped to one-knee, a blurring fist shattered the tile beneath her feet. The feeling of forced disinterest dissipated, and I vaulted over the railing and down, twisting in mid-air to face the storefront as Azure released her from his possession, leaping from shadow to shadow until he was inside.

Practically emanating spite, Sae took a step forward.

Trap! Azure screamed, his mental voice commingling with an alert from I dropped, scissor kicking Sae’s legs out from under her and sending us both to the ground just as the glass display windows exploded, screeching tinnitus overtaking almost everything else. Sae grasped my forearm and hurled me clear of the opening with superhuman strength, glass shards skittering beneath her as she scrambled into cover after.

“Thanks.” She grunted.

“Yep.”

“Was that a fucking shotgun?”

“Shotguns. Spread was too wide for just one.”

Astria slid in beside us. Her wand was shaking, but I knew from past experience the nerves would subside as soon as the fighting began in earnest. “Inside doesn’t look too big, but there are a lot of obstacles. Could freeze them out?”

I nearly agreed. Gemini’s frost spells were devastating. A low tier blizzard spell limited to the interior of the store could easily trigger or otherwise disable any remaining traps, allowing safe passage. With such a small contained area, the temperature would drop dangerously low quickly, potentially severely injuring or even killing anyone inside. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that my earlier instinct was right. There was someone else besides Sunny in there, potentially independent of the order. Razing the place without knowing that variable didn’t feel right.

It took a monumental amount of effort to shake my head. “Wait for recon.”

Precious seconds ticked by. Azure called out the traps right off the bat and had been uncharacteristically silent ever since. I still felt his presence, so he wasn’t dead—but with the gap in time, he was either waylaid or tied up with someone.

Need to make a call.

“Flash and breach,” I said. I drew my dagger and a handful of crossbow bolts, extended the metal edges towards Sae. With a wave of her hand, they glowed sickly green, noxious fumes. The poison wouldn’t last long, so we needed to move quickly.

Astria muttered something unintelligible. A breeze swept through her hair, motes of light forming around her and drawing inward, towards the wand clutched at her chest, illuminating the silver rod gold. Once the spell was charged to max power, she pushed against the wall, exposing as little of herself as possible and dipping the wand towards the opening.

Instinctively, both me and Sae covered our ears and braced.

The resulting scream was hair-raising as always, and even facing away from it, I opened my eyes to numerous purple blotches, leaned around the corner, threw with a flick of my wrist, low-trajectory landing the blade between two racks of women’s clothes. Talia emerged snarling in a cloud of smoke, triggering two more shotgun traps and darting into the darkness. There was a low hiss of escaping gas, followed by a yelp.

“There’s something—the bastards blinded me!” her voice resonated in my mind, pained and enraged.

“Return.” I recalled the blade as Talia shifted back, snatching the hilt out of the air, breathing deeply, then turning the corner, bringing my crossbow to bear.

No movement. Nothing but darkness and silhouettes. With my tainted vision, every outward facing piece of metal and cylinder shape looked like the barrel of a shotgun. I pushed further in, relying on and to highlight any actual threats, ignoring the surging thrill that tempted throwing caution to the wind.

Towards the back of the store, behind the counter, a rectangle of light shot open.

Door.

Sunny’s panicked face came into focus for a half-second.

I fired.

There was an audible grunt, then a metal clang as the door slammed shut.

From outside, the distinctive thwip of a crossbow fired twice more, undercutting the sound of heavy boots pounding down the hallway

“Runner!” Max screamed out.

Sae blasted by, tucking her head and lowering her shoulder like a linebacker. She slammed into the back door, chitin impacting metal as she knocked it clean off its hinges, pausing for only a second before she disappeared through the door frame and around the corner, running at an Olympic sprint. She was faster than me, but only just, and I followed closely, seconds away from the exit.

He said runner. Singular.

The hair on the back of my neck raised, and I dropped into a roll, smelling ozone. A fiery red gash cut through the sidewall, exactly on my left. Somehow, it hadn’t triggered perception. I whirled, training my crossbow on the obvious origin point—behind the counter.

A boy, no older than twelve, awkwardly holding a staff stared defiantly back at me.