The Bathrobe Knight: Volume 3 (9 page)

“Help!” he screamed as Darwin’s zweihander lopped off part of his flank. “He--!” he tried to scream again, but it was too late. He had been chopped up and melted by a flurry of attacks.

“Red next!” Darwin called, pulling out another black snowball and throwing it at a red circle. It missed.
Really? I can nail a guy charging at me dead in the eyes with a spoon, but I can’t throw a snowball properly?
He cursed himself, knowing the others were probably laughing at him on the inside for his failure.

“Let me get it. I used to play baseball,” Daniel volunteered. Darwin obliged him. He didn’t want to fail twice in a row and make a complete fool out of himself in front of his friends. “There!” Daniel called out as the black snowball made contact.

“This . . . This isn’t fair--” Burny tried to protest, but like Sunny, his life ended far too quickly under an onslaught of blades and furry claws.

Blizzy, seeing what was going on, just frowned. “I should have kept working. I could have finished another before I died,” he grumbled and sighed helplessly as Daniel pitched a ball right into the blue circle on the wall, dropping the last snow pony’s shield. Unlike the other two, Blizzy didn’t make a sound as he collapsed into a pile of slush.

“I think that’s the first prebuilt fight that actually had specific event triggers and a basic strategy,” Darwin noted as his eyes darted between the three ruined foes.

He had finally reached Level 60 during the battle, another milestone, and was eager to check out what he’d receive, but he figured distributing loot should probably come first. Most of his milestone level-ups tended to come with decisions that required a lot of thought, and making the whole group wait for his choice didn’t seem right, so he decided to put it off till later. “Alright, let’s divvy the spoils!” he said, going through the chilling scene and rifling through the corpses. It was a common practice in gamer etiquette for a party to let the group leader do all of the looting so that it could be divided fairly and evenly. While no-one was worried about that within the party, the tradition wasn’t about to die.

“What’d we get?” They all peered at Darwin as he looked at the three items.

“Well, we have a dagger that seems to be made of that red ice stuff. It’s called ‘Burny’s Ironic Blade.’ It seems to be made out of ice but has a property which causes it to burn enemies kinda like my sword. Who wants it?”

There were three dagger users in the group, Minx, Mclean and Daniel. Naturally, three hands shot up. After much discussion, Mclean ended up getting the dagger. “What’s next?” Daniel and Minx both looked in anticipation.

“Well, we have another dagger called Winter’s Ethic. It doesn’t do much damage, like almost none at all, but the damage doubles with every strike. Who wants it?”

Since Mclean had gotten the first item, she wasn’t in the conversation for the second one. It ended up going to Daniel, who seemed both very happy and very confused about the weapon. In terms of quick killing, it was worthless. In terms of fighting tough players or enemies with tons of health, it would be invaluable. It was a unique dagger he could only use in special circumstances.

“And the last item?” Kitchens asked, the remaining unlucky individuals still curious.

“Sunny’s Son, a yellow belt that stops one attack from successfully landing once every minute,” Darwin tossed it to Fuzzy Wuzzy. “I think he’s the one that needs it the most. Anyone disagree?”

Fuzzy Wuzzy looked at the item in bewilderment. Everyone just kind of nodded their approval as he put on the silly yellow belt that had an obnoxiously large buckle in the shape of a sun on the front.

“I don’t think I’d want to wear that anyway,” Kitchens laughed. “I haven’t seen a buckle that big since I last visited Texas.”

“Yeah, probably the case. Let’s just head back to Lawlheima and see if Valerie and Kass are back yet.”

Chapter 3 – Homewreckers and Party Guests

Kass
:

Kass struggled to open her eyes, giving them a few good rubs as she came back into the real world. She had been having a crazy dream about angry butterflies attacking a group of revolting walnuts over who could sit closest to the fire.
Wait, where am I?
Bits and pieces of the night before started to flood into her mind. Her vision was still too blurry to see anything, and she hadn’t quite wiped away all the little eye boogers that generally accompanied mornings, but despite that, she could definitely tell she wasn’t at home. Her bed didn’t have sheets this nice, pillows this soft or air conditioning that was always on.

How long was I out?
The next question hit her mind with an unusually strong sense of urgency.
Dad is probably worried sick.
She rubbed her eyes again. She was just now starting to get the blurry vision to go away, and she was able to make out more clearly what was around her. Her mind was already racing with more questions than a hungover frat boy’s after a good kegger:
Does Dad even know where I am? Did he watch last night’s interview and see me get kidnapped? Did they even show that part?
Her head spun as she tried to puzzle out the full nature of her situation.

Okay, let’s start with where I am.
She forced all the other questions out of her head so she could handle them just one at a time.
I’m in a bed now--a bed that has a-million-thread-count sheets--and last night, I was in a weird underground room having dinn--
The fog in Kass’s mind suddenly cleared as the memory dawned on her.
Oh God, I fainted while having dinner with Darwin and Stephanie! That is so embarrassing.
She facepalmed so hard it stung. She didn’t have to finish putting together any more clues. It was all clear. She had passed out at the table in Charles’s underground lair, and someone had probably carried her to a spare bedroom. After all, leaving a dinner guest to sleep in a plate of food wasn’t exactly the most hospitable thing to do.
Oh God, this is worse than passing out drunk. At least you have an excuse for falling face first into dreamland when you’re drunk.

Ugh. I just need to make an entirely new set of friends, find a new guild and hope I don’t give them a reason like this to laugh at me.
She struggled to think of a way to get past her moment of shame as she got up. Looking around, she knew without a doubt that she was still at Charles’s place. He and that G.O.R.N. guy were the only people Kass had seen pull off that ‘creepy white room from an old sci-fi movie’ feel: white sheets, white bed, white night stand and no windows.
Am I still underground, or does he just hate sunlight like some sort of vampire? Wait, if Darwin is a demon . . . Could he actually be a vampire? Is that the real secret behind why all of these gaming companies are underground? That’s it . . . All the executives are vampires who accumulated their wealth over centuries and are now just making video games based on monsters that are real, monsters like Darwin, that people don’t know about . . .
she hypothesized as she tried to navigate the room.
The room was so uniformly white that she almost tripped over a chair near the door as she tried to find her way out of the room.
This guy’s taste really is horrible. He needs to add a few colors,
she critiqued as she finally opened the door to leave.

“Good morning, ma’am. You’re expected in kitchen number four.” One of the black-suited men straight out of a conspiracy movie was waiting for her as soon as the door opened. Kass noted that he didn’t even bother turning to look at her as he spoke. Instead, he maintained his stalwart position staring at the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“Kitchen number four? No chance you can show me where that is?” Kass did her best to adjust her clothes, suddenly self-conscious of her appearance. She had been to enough parties to know that there was little she could do to redeem an outfit she had slept in, but given she that hadn’t brought anything else with her to wear, this was the best she was going to be able to do.

“Of course, ma’am. Right this way.” His voice was a low monotone that was so steady and unchanging that it could have rivaled a tired school professor trying to give the same lecture after forty years. The man turned and began walking down the hallway as soon as he finished speaking without ever looking back.

“Umm, sooo . . . My name is Kass. What’s yours?” Kass did her best to make small talk as the bodyguard led her down one hallway after another in the maze-like complex that Kass could only assume to be Charles’s home. It didn’t feel like an office since most of the rooms she passed appeared to be empty. There was an occasionally humming sound that came from behind a few doors that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out why.

“I know,” the man responded, completely ignoring her question.

Kass frowned. “Don’t talk much, do you? Is your name classified, or is it just too embarrassing to mention?” She tried to break the awkwardness of her bizarre situation, but her guide just kept silently leading her down the hallway.
Jerk.
She almost mumbled it out loud, but just left the word lingering in her thoughts instead as she inspected the uniform walls on each side of her.

How far is it to just get to a kitchen? At this rate, I could have walked to the convenience store, bought a six pack and been halfway back to the house if I were still at home. I bet this is why Charles is still in such good shape at his age. He has to spend forever walking just to get around his own house. That must be the secret to how rich people always look younger: they spend so much time trekking around their own enormous homes.

After about ten minutes and a few flights of stairs, they finally stopped in front of a large set of double doors that came up on their left. “We’re here,” the man said, finally breaking his silence. He opened the door and then stood to the side of it as he had before.

She walked in to find a rather quaint-looking kitchen. Despite all the ultra-chic, sleek modern design that had gone into other rooms, this kitchen was so ordinary that it could have been in any one of the numerous houses that stretched up and down her neighborhood. The kitchen had cheap-looking laminate countertops, wood veneer cabinets and a fridge with the tell-tale water dispenser built into it that gave away the appliance’s age. It had two simple round tables, each of which was surrounded by chairs. One was large enough to fit seven or eight people, and the other was only large enough to fit four--if their plates weren’t too big. In fact, as her eyes passed over the room, she began to notice that nothing seemed to be new or modern. There wasn’t a single piece of connected technology like a smart stove or coffee maker. It was all old-fashioned. Charles was seated in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair pulled up to the large table with his back to her.

“I thought my dad was the only one who still used the manual, turn-on, drip coffee machine,” Kass commented, expressing her surprise at the whole set up.

“Some people say that old dogs can’t be taught new tricks,” Charles said after sipping his drink for a minute. “But I suppose I’ll get around to upgrading the coffee maker if I ever get around to drinking the poison.”

“You don’t drink it, but you have a maker?” She found it odd that there was a fresh batch of coffee brewed, yet he claimed that didn’t even drink the stuff.

“Eve insisted on buying one. I never got around to getting rid of it, and my guests seem to keep using it. Feel free to pour yourself a cup.” He gestured to the pot after folding up the newspaper he had been reading and setting it down near him. “I hope you’re okay with omelets. I asked my cook to whip up an extra one when I was notified you had woken up.”

“Yes, sir, that sounds delicious.” Kass found herself speaking with the same overly-polite tone she had used the night before. It made her feel like one of a thousand anonymous interns meeting the CEO of a company for the first time. Then again, if her dad had his way, that might very well be the case when she talked to Charles in the future.

“When you finish pouring yourself that coffee, can you get a chocolate chip cookie out of the fridge for me? Perhaps fetch me a glass of milk too?” Charles asked, sipping his tea.

Before Kass could even think of making a smart aleck answer, she had already finished pouring her cup, fetched him the chocolate chip cookie and milk and had sat down. Something about the way he spoke moved people to action in a way that she would probably never be able to emulate. It was as if years of giving orders had imbued him with the expectation that others would simply do as he said and granted him the commanding aura to ensure it.

“There. Now, how are you this morning? I trust you slept well?” He sipped his drink again.

“I did, thank you. I’m very sorry about last night,” she apologized, still embarrassed about fainting. Then something clicked.
Wait, he kidnapped me from a paying gig!
“Why were you so forceful bringing me here?” she blurted out. Her humiliation immediately faded as she remembered the ire she had felt for being forced to go against her will.

“I think we’ve already gone over all the important details, don’t you?” He flashed a smile that sent a chill down her spine.

She didn’t know if he was saying ‘I believe I have adequately explained myself, and you should thoroughly understand the reasoning’ or a more threatening ‘You need to understand your place and stop asking questions.’ Either way, she didn’t feel like pressing it further. Quickly switching the subject, she jumped to the next logical question. “So, why am I still here? You could have had one of your drivers take me home last night after I . . . um . . . err . . . fainted.” It was so embarrassing that even just mentioning it again made her cringe.