Endless Online: Oblivion's Price: A LitRPG Adventure - Book 3 Page 5

  Dominic glowered, before shaking his head. "Alright, kid. Ask me your damned questions so I can get you the fuck out of my car and go home already."

  Val nodded. "Who hired you?"

  Dominic looked ready to speak, paused, gazing at Val carefully. "What happens if I misspeak?" He said it casually, but there was something in his eyes, and a sudden horrid flash struck Val's memory as he envisioned a man shrieking as he shook and spasmed, blood pouring from every orifice of his body as the flesh was torn right from his bones...

  "I really don't think that would be a good idea, Dominic," Val said, the soft regret in his tone doing more to alarm Dominic than anything else that had happened that night, it seemed.

  "Fuck," Dominic whispered. "You're one of them. That's why they want to kill you."

  Val blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  The older man chuckled softly. "You picked a great time to wake up, kid. Whole world's going crazy, so why not?"

  Val frowned. "What does that even mean?"

  Dominic sighed, eyeing Val consideringly, letting the silence build. Val's irritation faded, he smiled right back and relaxed into his seat as Knuckles drove them smooth as silk along Lakeshore Drive. He had played this game many times before, pinning the older man's gaze with his own.

  Dominic grinned. "You looking for a job, kid?"

  Val peered out the window thoughtfully for some moments, gazing at the bright moon overhead, mirrored perfectly in the lake waters. "Right now, I'm just looking for answers."

  Dominic nodded as the silence stretched. "Fair enough. Okay. About a year back, earthquakes. Like nothing you've experienced, if you never felt them before. Coastline cities took it the worst, thousands dead, major flooding, contaminated water, national reserves called to serve, and by some miracle, it was less of a fuck up than Katrina. Rest of the world?" He shrugged. "It got so depressing seeing scenes of the bodies that even the hardened assholes I know stopped watching the news. Five million dead due to collapsing buildings, drowning, contamination and disease, last I heard."

  Val winced. "That's pretty fucked up."

  "It is. But life deals strange hands, sometimes. Because the season after? Bumper crops, the world over. It's like something in all the sea spray, maybe, or, fuck if I know, fresh minerals spewing in the air from Mount Saint Helen erupting. Took a few score more lives, that, and all of this odd weather phenomenon had the scientists baffled, and people afraid it's the end times." He smirked. "Most of those fools shut up when things calmed down, and damn if it isn't cheaper to stock my club than ever. Crops growing faster, cattle feed is cheaper, and my supplier doesn't use that cheap shit either. Our steaks and ribs are the best you'll taste in Chicago, I promise you that."

  Val nodded. "Marinate your steaks in pureed pineapple for an hour, then sear it in butter. Killer tasting steaks as tender as Filet mignon."

  Dominic's bushy eyebrows rose at that. "No kidding, pineapple and butter? Is that a Hawaiian thing?"

  Val shook his head. "You wash the puree off thoroughly once it's done marinating. Enzymes break down all the fibers and leave the meet just a little bit sweeter, but you'd swear it was the meat, not the pineapple. Prep it normally, then you finish it, searing in butter. Let it rest for fifteen minutes, no five-minute bullshit, then serve. Best damn steaks you'll ever have."

  The older man grinned. "I'll have to give it a try sometime. Get some use out of that ninja thing I never use."

  "You do that. In the meantime, I'd love to know what shifts in the lithosphere have to do with someone putting a hit on me?"

  A hard stare.

  "Earthquakes and tidal waves."

  "Yeah, I know, kid. I'm not stupid." He turned to gaze out the window. "You see the moon out there, big and bright and beautiful as anything?"

  Val nodded.

  "Notice anything different?"

  Val almost shook his head, then swallowed, a cold tingle of apprehension racing down his spine.

  Dominic flashed a cold grin. "That's right. Moon is brilliant as ever, not a trace of cloud anywhere near it, but what don't you see?"

  Val frowned, gazing closely, feeling a surge of relief when he caught several tiny pinpoints of light, but not one of them twinkled.

  "Stars," he softly said.

  Dominic nodded. "Got it in one. Satellites? Yeah, you can see those, few as they are, and a few fools pretend they're stars and everything's okay. Planes can fly same as ever, and the moon's bright and glorious as anything."

  "But the stars..."

  "Scientists can't find anything, son. Everything past the, what's it called, the Kuiper belt, where Pluto, which I still think is a planet, fuck those eggheads, is hiding. But past that final ring of asteroids, it's all deep black space."

  Val frowned, feeling suddenly as if his entire planet was on the precipice of disaster. "That can't be good."

  "No, it can't, son, and it gets worse. Scientist gobbledygook about shifts in vacuum energy density and other weird, freaky shit that doesn't make sense. Other crazy scientists coming up with wild predictions that there has been some kind of change in the forces and fields that make up reality. That we're now in some kind of, well, bubble, and light from the outside universe now can't reach us."

  Val blinked. "Where did you hear that? Sounds like a science fiction movie."

  Dominic smirked. "Pretty much, kid, but don't let it get your britches in knots. Fact is, on a practical level, nothing's changed. Sun's the same as ever, thank the Virgin Mary, and all our farmers are having bumper crops the fucking world over." He shrugged. "As long as you weren't one of the five million sorry souls to have lost his or her life in natural disasters this year, you're sitting pretty, even if these are the end times."

  Val swallowed, dipping his head, demanding his pounding heart calm, doing his best to focus on the cool night once more, a comforting cloak of darkness, all around them. He smiled as icy calm took hold once more, his momentary panic now a far off, distant thing.

  The kingpin blinked and frowned. "Damn, kid, that's a useful trick you have."

  "What's that?"

  The older man shrugged. "You went from a frightened kid way over his head to hard as ice. You almost seemed to melt into the shadows. I guess wearing black suits you." His eyes widened, then he frowned. "Shit, that's..."

  Val smirked. "Better than a hospital gown, I'll tell you that."

  "Ruthless, but smart. I like that, kid." He sighed. "Okay, enough putting off with the bullshit. You got a burning need to know who the fuck is gunning for you, and I need to know you won't tell a soul what I'm going to say." An intent stare hard as iron seemed almost to plead. "Not a soul, kid. This one's bad news. You take my advice? You're gone from the hospital, and as far as the world knows, Kent really did knock you off and manage to squirrel away the body while he was at it. If you're smart, you'll let the world think that, and stay out of the sights of some serious hard cases."

  Val nodded. "Point taken, Dominic, but if these guys are so badass, why did they outsource?"

  The kingpin smirked. "Plausible deniability. Why the fuck else? Think it through, kid, why do you think organizations like mine can still flourish in this day and age? As long as we're discreet, don't rock the boat, and don't bother the tourists, we're useful. Riffraff and punk gangbangers get out of hand? We get a quiet word from the chief, we crack some skulls, and a few more worthless pieces of trash end up in Lake Michigan, feeding the fish. Why do you think our city's murder and assault rates are finally going down? Because organization is a hell of a lot better than chaos, even in organized crime, as long as we play by the rules. Someone high up the chain needs product or needs untraceable cutouts that will never get back to them? They call outfits like mine."

  Dominic straightened his cuffs. "Make no mistake, kid, we take out the trash, and our targets are never clean." His brows furrowed. "At least, that's normally the case. I'm now thinking that in your case there's been some sort of fucking mistake. But the way yo
u took out Kent and got to me, someone's trained you, and good. Are you one of Alicio's boys?"

  Val smiled. "I just worked for a rich uncle. He gave me an education, and I got to see the world."

  Dominic blinked. "Shit, you really going to tell me you served?"

  Val shrugged. "Right now I'm just a guy in a killer's suit, trying to find out what the fuck is going on."

  Dominic grimaced and shook his head. "Fuck. I should have known."

  Val said nothing, waiting for the man to collect himself.

  "What you have to understand is that he came to us through the appropriate channels. We got a heads up to expect an unusual guest, and that his request was to be treated with the same weight as all of our shared uncle's requests are." The man flashed a jaded smile. "When that asshole came by, I could sense there was something just a bit off about him. But he knew just what names to drop, and his deposit was clean. Of course he made it clear that our target had compromised US interests working with terrorists, possessed classified information that jeopardized national safety if it got out, and it would be better for everyone if you just slipped quietly away while you were still in a coma."

  Val's eyes turned hard. He squeezed his empty fist as his heart hammered with fury, heat twisting in his gut. Someone wasn't just gunning for him, they were pulling in government sanctioned resources to do it, happy to destroy his good name while they were at it.

  Dominic's eyes widened. Val swore he could smell his fear.

  Val took a deep breath, imagining his fury buried in ice, in shadowy blackness. As if he did naught but slide through the icy waters of a raging river, the power of inescapable currents flowing through him, his future as inevitable as death's promise, and he but the deliverer. He forced himself to smile.

  "Shit," Dominic hissed, his complexion taking an unhealthy pallor. "Like I said, kid, I didn't like the guy, but I didn't know the asshole was playing us. They never dared cross us like that before."

  "Give me a name." A cold whisper, as if the night itself spoke in Dominic's trembling ear.

  "He didn't give me one, kid, they never do. He wasn't a regular, I'll tell you that. The two I normally work with come off as predictably self-righteous, and to their own minds, honorable." He raised his hand, as if to forestall retribution. "But don't sweat it, these players aren't quite as sly as they think. Of course I have them all on video, our state's recently passed personal privacy laws aside. Now I'm not going to break trust with the two who have always been up and up with me, but this asshole?" He swallowed, gazing intently at where he thought Val must be. "I'll tell you what, kid, you give me an e-mail address, and I'll send you his photo along with whatever hits I can get on his pic."

  He looked surprised when Val shook his head. "Don't even try to do a trace on his pic. If he's a serious player, any attempt to ping him in the records will set off alarms left and right. That won't do me any good, and unless you know what you're doing with Tails and TOR in conjunction with a non-US regulated VPN, you're going to get burned."

  The older man paled. "Shit. Last thing I want is for another one of you fuckers to be gunning for me personally."

  Val laughed at that. "And you'll never see us coming, though most of us don't do domestic wetwork. It violates our oath, the founding fathers' intentions, and makes it a bitch to sleep at night."

  A dry chuckle. "Probably the real reason you guys outsource, and people like Kent, well, he's not exactly a human being that was too worried about consequence or regret." Dominic sighed. "He knew not to cross me, so that earned him a certain measure of tolerance, but my girls couldn't stand him and I think he might have been doing shit I really don't want to know about behind my back. There's a code of sorts, for men in my position. If our employees are loyal, do what they're told, and don't embarrass you or the company, you return that loyalty. But all that said, no one's going to lose too many tears now that Kent's gone." His gaze hardened. "You might look badass now, but if he had any decency, seeing a kid sleeping in a hospital bed looking the farthest thing from a terrorist should have had alarm bells blaring in his head. He should have snapped a pic and come back to me. He knows that, and the fuck if I want my organization taking a fall for this fucking con artist who for all I know was playing us."

  Dominic gave a satisfied nod. "I think this does work best, kid. You've disappeared, and only the cutout thinks we had anything to do with it. As far as anyone else knows, you just woke up and left. Now how do I send you a pic?"

  Val smiled. "You know the 52nd street diner?"

  The other man nodded. "Killer Reubens."

  "Their roast beef is also excellent. Sometime next week, between twelve and one, someone will stop by one of the booths inside and ask to read the NYT special edition. Your man will say this is just the sports, the rest of the paper is in my briefcase. Your contact, which might or might not be me, will say, 'sounds like a winner.' Then your man can hand over the rest of the paper and palm the stick with the picks while we do the handoff. If things don't feel right, your man can just hand whoever's there the paper and keep the stick."

  Dominic nodded. "Good choice. Older white collars and retirees who still know what it means to read the paper are who they cater to. I'll have one of my older boys who can blend in take care of it. If nothing else, he'll like the excuse to munch on my dime for a week." He handed Val a card blank of everything save a number. "It's a burner phone. Clean. If something goes south... you call me before you head over, maybe we can straighten it out without any unnecessary bullshit."

  Val nodded. "No prob."

  "Excellent." He then turned to the small ice box the limousine was equipped with, slowly pulling out a pair of longnecks, popping the lids and passing one to Val. They clicked bottles and drank. "Now that that's taken care of, where should I drop you off, kid?"

  "Here is fine, Dominic. A pleasure doing business with you."

  The older man raised his brows. "Lakeshore Drive?"

  Val smiled. "For some reason, I feel like a run."

  The older man chuckled. "Alright, kid. You have my number. Call me if you freeze your ass off and need a decent place to stay. That goes double if you're looking for work."

  Val nodded. "I will." And the moment Vincent signaled for Knuckles to slow down, Val opened the door and was off in a flash, sprinting for all he was worth before slipping through the nearby tree line, all but disappearing in the inky shadows as the limousine turned around and drove off.

  Time passed, and Val, losing himself in the shadows as he made his way to the one place in the world he thought of as home, found peace in the simple act of running.

  At least for a time.

  4

  "Come on, dad, pick up!" False dawn had already passed, and Val needed to know if everything was okay. Needed to know if his father was alright. If he even wanted the poor amnesiac who thought he was his son home, or if Val was really just a deluded fool who was actually no one at all, as the dark voice in the back of his head swore was the case.

  Val squeezed his eyes shut, trying one last time to reach his dad with the prepaid phone he had gotten at the 24-hour All-In-One hypermarket that he didn't remember seeing the last time he had jogged all the way to Lakeshore Drive. Hell, Val didn't even know what year it was, and as sharp as he had been at the game of survival, he hadn't even thought to look up the date when he had the chance.

  After the tenth ring, Val swallowed and clicked off the phone.

  His father wasn't answering his own burner, and Val didn't dare reach out by landline or e-mail. Not until he knew who was gunning for him, who wanted him dead, and why.

  Yet for all his trepidation, he felt that same curious joy he always had, walking familiar streets as he approached home at last, grateful still for the dusky light, jog slowing to a businesslike stroll more befitting the neighborhood and his attire which at this hour could almost pass for respectable.

  And there it was, his family's Tudor home, mansion as much as house, majestic and grand a
s Val crested the gentle slope, getting past barriers with almost dreamlike ease, dark shoes shiny with the morning dew as he strode through the grass rustling in the backyard, smelling of fresh-cut greenery, dew, and childhood memories.

  He approached the back door and froze, breathing deep, doing his best to blink his eyes clear of prickly heat he refused to call tears. To his surprise and relief it was almost effortless reaching for that dark calm that had come so naturally to him once upon a time, suddenly feeling as much a part of the dusky fields and nineteenth-century home as he ever had the midnight battlefields he had once so eagerly embraced, what now seemed a lifetime ago.

  For all that he flinched in memory of savage blows and frenzied kicks delivered that very night, the crack of bones as a furious glare turned to the glassy-eyed stillness of the dead and damned.

  Just another foe to fall before him.

  God only knew how many it had been.

  He opened his eyes with a shudder. No one gazing his way, the pair of chipmunks in the chestnut tree contentedly lost in winter's sleep.

  Only his father waited in the kitchen.

  Somehow, Val knew. Just as he knew the backup key would be where it always was, and that lock alone on the normally double bolted steel framed door would be secured.

  Opening with a click.

  And how his heart raced with joy at seeing the man sitting in shadows, gazing at Val so strangely, Beretta M9 held in hand.

  Val blinked away tears as he smiled at the one man he could never strike.

  "Hey dad, I'm home."

  So much said with those words. And how strangely the man Val always thought of as an older, stronger version of himself gazed at him, his face so familiar, more than one relative calling them twins a generation apart, his body just as muscular as Val's own, not an inch of excess fat. Val felt strange relief, imminent death aside, knowing that his father hadn't lost his edge, hadn't given up trying to excel at everything he believed in.

  And how long that terrible, endless moment lasted, Val's stomach in knots with tension, for all that he was terrified of breaking it, lest his father deny him and leave him truly and utterly alone in a world that wanted Val dead.