Leviathan

Chapter Three: The Shore

It was a couple of weeks before Steve managed to log back in to Leviathan. He understood why the plot had gone the way it had. The devs probably thought they were being clever or edgy. Still, it didn’t sit right with him. Having them kill kids- even fake ones- was too much. Steve knew there were some gamers who loved that kind of thing, thought it was funny to do fucked up shit in games they’d never do in real life, but that wasn’t him. He was glad to know it wasn’t Riley or Sam either. At least he didn’t feel as guilty about cheating with Stark’s mods.

So, finally, he accepted that the devs had done something he hated in a game that he mostly loved, and logged back in to see what new privileges and skills he had.

He definitely took advantage of his elevator privileges to finally access his dorm and put a bunch of gear in storage only to take it back out when he realized there was a digital shop in each room so he could sell the extra stuff without having to travel. There was a new floor he had access to with the promised new skills to train, and he was very excited about the first aid one. He maxed that out immediately, and his kit quickly adapted to add a new motion where he dragged a finger across two or more beads for each of the new skills. The next one was firearms. Steve skipped that one for now. The rest involved cooking, fishing, navigation, and… sailing? Steve was definitely curious about the next storyline.

Steve poured himself into maxing out the new skills, leveling every day to the point where Riley and Sam might not catch up. Riley wasn’t on as much as Steve, but he was on a lot. It was becoming obvious Sam didn’t like how much time the pair of them were spending in game. The text came just after he left Stark’s class on a Wednesday, and he realized Sam was waiting for him on the bench where they’d first met.

“Oh, good, you made it,” Sam said, as if Steve had planned this meeting, and wasn’t just trying to go home. Sam’s phone pinged with the text Steve had just sent, declining the offer of pizza and bad movies. Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Steve a judgey look. “I wasn’t asking. You and Riley are banned from that game tonight- and don’t tell me you had plans, you don’t have any other friends, you old-ass, sophomore hermit.”

Steve stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing. “Yeah, fine,” he agreed. “I guess you need a chance to try to catch up.”

Sam shook his head. “Man, I’m serious. There’s something wrong with that game, and y’all continuing to play it all day every day is creepy as hell.”

“Look, the City definitely sucked, but everything else about Leviathan has been great. It’s so fucking real in there, Sam…”

“Yeah, that’s a whole other thing you got me worried about now, Steve.”

“You know what I mean, asshole. I’m a goddamn artist. I love the design.”

“Well, no Leviathan tonight. Pizza, Sharknado, maybe a beer? Huh? Yes? I really want to see your punk ass drunk,” Sam grinned.

“I’m a little insulted that you think it’s only gonna take one beer,” Steve said, narrowing his eyes.

“You said you don’t drink, you’re probably not even a hundred pounds… I think one will be enough.”

Steve laughed and punched Sam in the arm. “Jerk.”

“That’s how it is, Steve.”

Steve refused to admit that Sam was right and he was already tipsy after one beer, so he ate a slice of pizza as steadily as he could and tried to act normal. Riley got up halfway through the movie and brought them all another round. Somewhere in Steve’s brain, it registered that Riley was extra quiet, and they were all laughing, but something was different. Off. Steve headed to the bathroom halfway through his second beer (and no, he was not drunk, he just liked swaying when he walked, thank you, Sam) and Riley did the same after he came back.

“You see it too, right?” Sam asked, his voice low once Riley was gone.

“See what?”

“That game got to him. He’s not okay. Kids is a trigger for him. He’s been like this ever since, won’t snap out of it… just keeps diving deeper into that game and it’s making it worse.”

Steve squirmed a little as he heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on. “Worse how?”

“He doesn’t smile as big or laugh as hard… I always gotta say hi to him first anymore. It’s like he’s a fucking zombie.”

They had to stop talking about him as he walked back into the room and plopped down next to Steve. Sam excused himself next and gave Steve a look, like he was supposed to do something.

“So apparently Sam’s worried about you and wants me to tell you instead of just talking to you himself,” Steve told Riley.

“Man, you know what subtlety is?” Sam yelled from down the hall before the bathroom door shut.

Riley didn’t laugh. He looked annoyed. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I mean, you do seem kind of… down?”

Riley let his head fall back against the couch. “I’m fine, and y’all can stop.”

“Okay. I mean… You’d tell us if something was wrong, right?” Steve asked quietly.

“Rogers. Relax. I’m just… I think something’s off about the game. There was this soldier-”

“In black, right?” Steve said, getting intense again.

“Yeah, with a red star on his shoulder…”

“Fuck, I thought I imagined that,” Steve admitted with a shaky laugh. “What about him?”

“I saw him again in the mess hall,” Riley admitted. “He’s there every day now. I mean, I assume it’s him. It’s the same build, just different clothes. Kind of like a pirate almost? I mean, not pegleg-eyepatch-pirate, but, like, renaissance faire pirate. All in black. Just sits at a table in the corner and doesn’t move.”

Steve frowned. “Maybe he’s an easter egg?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Riley agreed, though he still seemed troubled. “Maybe it’s nothing. I just have this feeling.”

Sam returned then and sank into the couch. “I’m just worried about you, man,” he sighed. “You too, Steve. It ain’t healthy, and both of y’all are weird now.”

“You’re weird,” Steve mumbled.

“You’re drunk,” Riley added.

“We’re all drunk together,” Sam sighed. “I just miss y’all. Don’t know what I’d do if something happened.”

“Jesus, Sam,” Riley groaned. “We’re playing a game. We’re not having some emotional crisis, okay? Chill out.”

“Alright, alright. I’m chill. Just… say hi first once in a while.”

Things were weird, but they got a little less weird by the end of the movie. They were all laughing again, and it didn’t feel quite as forced. Steve’s head was very, very fuzzy and it was nice. He wasn’t sure exactly when or how he’d ended up with his head on Riley’s shoulder, but the guy responded by slinging an arm around him like he did to Steve’s avatar- only Steve was a bit smaller, so it ended up more cuddly than either of them had intended. Neither of them moved to rectify the situation, and Steve vaguely registered Sam covering them with a blanket before he passed out.

~*~

Steve didn’t have class on Tuesday or Thursday, so the next morning he was able to go straight home and log in. He wanted to see the soldier in the mess hall. Sure enough, there he was in the corner, looking creepy as hell.

Steve didn’t hesitate to cross the hall and sit down at the table with him. He stared at the guy. His eyes were definitely more like a player’s than an NPC’s. “Who are you?” he asked. The guy only held Steve’s gaze without reply. Steve waited another moment, trying and failing to get a read. With a sigh, he stood and went back to the training rooms. It was about time he trained his firearms skill at all. The game didn’t give skills randomly. You needed pretty much all of them. Something like firearms was probably something he didn’t want to skip, even if he did want to skip it.

He was about two points away from maxing it out when a message orb came floating up to him. He tapped it. “Hey, man,” the semi-transparent version of Wingman greeted him. “You got time to meet me in the Badlands? I think I found something.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve agreed. “Can you give me five? I’m just about to max out this skill.”

“You can really level, huh?” Riley marvelled. “Yeah, meet me at the Dragon Claw when you’re done.”

“Will do,” Steve agreed. He wondered what Riley was up to, and was just about to port when yet another message orb approached him. This time it was Stark’s avatar.

“Hey, pumpkin, I need an escort.”

“Actually I-”

“Was just clearing your schedule? Great. I’m drawing you a door.”

Stark disappeared and Steve grumbled in annoyance. He pulled up Riley in his friends list and tried to send him an orb, but he had logged out. With a sigh, Steve recorded an apology for taking so long and offered to reschedule whenever he was on again and sent it to the guy’s inbox. Just in time for Stark to poke his head out from under the weapons table.

“Come on, Short Round, I need you to get me through a cave.”

Steve sighed and crawled under the table and into the portal Stark had made him only to find himself at the foot of Bad Mountain. It had a real name, but none of the players ever called it that to the point where Steve couldn’t even remember what it was. It was called Bad Mountain because it was in the Badlands, but mostly it was called that because all you could do there was farm experience. There were loads of monsters that never dropped anything and there was no loot even if you made it all the way through. The monsters also had ridiculous respawn rates, so you were guaranteed to have to kill everything you already killed on the way in if you wanted to get back out.

It was, as its name implied, Bad.

“Stark, you’re not actually gonna make me run Bad Mountain by myself?”

“No, of course not. I’m here to keep you company with witty banter, and we can walk. No running necessary.”

Steve let out a dramatic sigh and headed for the mountain. He already regretted answering that second orb. If only they came with orb ID so he could screen his orb calls. Then he wouldn’t be here stabbing rats and shooting down orcs.

Eventually, they reached the top of the cave and there was, predictably, nothing. Stark crossed to the opposite side of the room and pet a boulder. Steve stared at him. “What? I needed to rub the lucky rock,” Stark insisted. “We can go now.”

Steve killed everything extra hard on the way back down.

The next day, Steve got a text from Sam in the middle of Stark’s class.

Have you seen Riley?

No, he wanted me to meet him in-game, but I took too long and he logged. SR

Yeah, he said he had to meet someone, but he didn’t come home last night.

Was it a girl? SR

He didn’t tell me.

Is he answering his phone? SR

Straight to voicemail.

He’s probably fine. Crashing at their place, phone died, hasn’t noticed yet. I’m sure he’s fine. SR

Steve’s text sounded a lot more certain than he felt. It was weird timing. His gut said something was wrong. He’d been thinking something was wrong the whole time, but now he thought something was really wrong. “Excuse me. Artsy fartsy. What’s with the texting in my class? Not exciting enough for you?” Stark called out. Steve felt his face turn dark red as he put his phone away. “No, that’s okay. I can make things more exciting. Everyone likes exciting, right?”

And with that, Stark turned on some music and started dancing (badly) as he lectured. Steve had no idea who he’d agreed to help hack a game.

Fuck.

What if this was Steve’s fault? Riley had even said the stuff in the City wasn’t part of the spoilers… and it had happened after they’d helped Stark throw something into the well. He stood abruptly and Stark cut the music. “Is my dancing not good enough? I always knew I should have taken those lessons. Seriously, Rogers, where’s the fire?”

“I just have an emergency,” he replied. “Sorry.”

He rushed out of the room and immediately headed for Sam and Riley’s dorm. He was wheezing by the time he got there and barely let Sam get him inside before he was gasping out his theory. “And what if Riley figured it out and Stark- did something to him? To-to keep him quiet?”

Sam’s face had gone hard. “I’m really tempted to make jokes about Tony Stark as a lady avatar, but do you really think he’s capable of something like that?”

“Sam, I don’t know,” Steve lamented. “He seems alright, but also he’s kind of nuts. And it’s just too much coincidence, Sam. It has to be him. We gotta find Riley.”

“Don’t you think I’ve been trying? I even logged into the Find My Phone shit and it can’t locate him.”

“Shit,” Steve breathed. “Shit, Sam, what did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. Come on, let’s go to the cops.”

Steve shook his head. “You can’t report someone missing this soon, and if we go to them talking about Tony Stark hacking video games… Even if they don’t laugh in our faces, if Stark is capable of hurting Riley, he’s definitely capable of buying his way out of trouble.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I’m gonna talk to the black soldier. He’s not an NPC. I think he might be one of the devs or a mod or something. He can tell us who asked Riley to meet him.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, but I’m staying with you while you go in. Offline. If something happens, I’m calling the cops.”

Steve nodded. “Good. That works.”

He spent the bus ride telling Sam about the message he’d gotten from Riley, saying he’d found something and to meet him at the pub. Steve tried not to feel self-conscious as Sam witnessed the mess he lived in, and went straight for his kit. The only problem was that the soldier wasn’t there.

Steve looked frantically around the mess hall and spotted a swish of black going down the hall. “Hey!” Steve called after him, chasing him as fast as his avatar could go. It wasn’t fast enough. Steve rounded the corner and he was gone. The only thing down this hall was… shit it was the three doors that took you to the three big storylines.

A light flashed under the one to the Shore and Steve knew this was the only way to find the soldier. He thought about logging out to tell Sam about the snag in their plan, but he was too afraid of losing his quarry. With determination, he headed through the door into a bad storm. It slammed shut and disappeared behind him. He could see the soldier in the distance, sitting in front of a drowned pit that used to be a fire. Steve crossed to him, vaguely registering that he was now wearing boots with baggy pants tucked into them and a renaissance-faire-style shirt tucked into those. He was pretty sure there was a ridiculous hat on his head as well. He looked a bit like the soldier, actually, except he had no mask and his clothes were brighter.

“My friend!” he yelled over the wind. “His tag is Wingman! He’s gone missing, and I think it’s because he found out who’s hacking your system!”

This caught his attention. He stalked toward Steve, backing him up until his back hit a tree. Steve shivered a little and tried not to think about how blue the guy’s eyes were. “I need to know if he was in contact with anyone besides me yesterday!”

The soldier eyed him critically before going for the menu over Steve’s shoulder. He scrolled through what had to be every possible detail of Steve’s character and frowned some more. “Please, can you just help me? He’s my friend.”

Those eyes snapped back to Steve’s again and he swiped the menu away. Then he looked toward the water and Steve saw an NPC. It was waiting, so was probably the Greeter for this region. The soldier looked back at him pointedly and nodded toward the Greeter.

“No, I don’t have time to try to beat this region, especially not solo. Can you please just tell me who my friend was going to meet?”

The soldier nodded toward the Greeter again. “No, I’m not doing this now.”

Suddenly, the soldier grabbed him by the throat and Steve realized his left arm was made entirely of metal. He didn’t know if that was something that could be looted or purchased, but it was probably one of a kind. This guy had to be a dev. Unfortunately, Steve’s avatar was being strangled, which meant he was muted in game. He rolled the one bead for an unarmed attack and managed to punch the soldier in the ribs. He didn’t react, so Steve did it again and again until the soldier finally dropped him.

Pointing to Steve and then the Greeter, the soldier started to walk away and disappeared into the trees.

Steve sighed. He was tempted to log out, but it was clear the soldier knew something and wasn’t about to help him unless he cooperated. For whatever reason, the soldier was telling him to knock out this quest, so…

“I am Captain Gardiner of The Rachel,” he introduced himself. “We were chasing a great, white whale, and the boat my son was on was lost along with several of our crew. Can you help us sail the ship to find him?” Steve almost asked if he meant his name was Ahab, not Gardiner.

Steve sighed. “Lead the way.”

The Captain did, telling him of a monstrous albino whale that they were determined to hunt down- until things like finding his son’s boat took priority. So this would be why they’d had a sailing skill, and his was maxed out so the storm should be a piece of cake. The landscape changed as they sailed, and Steve was again floored by the realism of the graphics. Everything from the ship’s wake in the water to the sea spray dotting the sails and decks was carefully rendered as if the point of the game was just to look at it. In the distance, another ship appeared and they drew alongside it. It was the Pequod, and Steve suddenly realized this actually was Moby Dick. He was just with the minor characters.

Captain Gardiner boarded the other ship and a member of the crew approached Steve. “The Captain’s son was a good lad, but chances are he’s with Davy Jones now. We can’t afford to sail an endless rescue mission. Will you help us mutiny? We have to find and kill the whale. No whale, no pay. No pay, we all starve, and the dead make for a poor crew.”

“True,” Steve agreed, “but he’s your captain and he just wants to find his son.”

Another crew member approached. “His son’s dead. We look much longer, and we’ll be joining him.”

Suddenly an orb floated to Steve with a message. He tapped it and the Triskelion Greeter blinked into existence. “Agent, your mission is to restore order through any means necessary. To do this, take control of the ship and eliminate those who have challenged authority. They will only continue to inspire disorder. Compliance will be rewarded. They must be made happy to comply.”

Again, Steve got that crawly feeling in his gut like this game was more than it seemed, and not in a good way. Well, he wasn’t going to play it their way. Not again. The Greeter bid him, “Good luck, Agent,” and disappeared.

“Let me talk to the Captain,” Steve suggested.

“We’ve tried that!” the crew member insisted in exasperation. “He won’t listen to reason! He’s lost in his own grief, and won’t face reality!”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Give me a chance,” he insisted. “Mutiny is not the answer.”

“He’s out of his mind, you’ll see,” the crewman muttered. “And when you realize we’re right, I expect you’ll join our cause. Or you’ll be taking a swim.”

Steve fought to keep his eyes from rolling. “When you realize I’m right, I expect you’ll fall into line.”

The crewman blew a puff of air through his lips in a disbelieving laugh. He just shook his head and left Steve to it. On cue, the Captain returned.

“Captain Gardiner!” Steve called out, crossing to him. “I need a word, in private. It’s urgent.”

“It can’t possibly be,” the Captain shook his head forlornly. “What a cruel man, that Captain Ahab. I asked him for help finding a lost whaling ship and he said he could waste no time on anything but finding the whale. Can you imagine?”

“Well…” Steve hesitated. “I think your crew might be feeling a similar way…”

“I’m aware they think there’s no possible rescue.”

“I mean, I think they want to do their jobs and get paid. Rations are going to run out, and they’re going to get restless. Possibly violent.”

“Preposterous,” Gardiner expelled, popping the P’s emphatically. “My crew is as loyal a crew-”

“Captain Gardiner,” Steve interrupted firmly. “The moment you boarded the Pequod, I was asked if I would join a mutiny. You cannot find your son if you’ve been thrown in the brig. Or overboard.”

“You what?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve insisted. “I think you need to listen to your crew before it’s too late.”

“By God,” he breathed, seemingly unable to process the idea of a mutiny aboard his own ship. Then, a miracle happened. Either Steve solved the riddle or he broke the game. “I suppose you’re right. To save my son, I must first ensure the safety of myself and my crew. We’ll return to tracking the whale.”

Steve had not considered that now he had to help kill a whale. He was handed a spear and equipped it instead of his sword, holding it firmly (or as firmly as he could, considering he was just resting two fingers on the beads) as they rounded a peninsula to see at least a dozen whales all swimming in one area. Things devolved quickly into mayhem and terror. Steve’s heart was beating almost out of his chest as the ship tilted and wood splintered. They were being sunk. Steve had managed to restore order without killing anyone, and they were all going to die anyway.

Suddenly he was tackled to the deck by a figure kitted in black and dragged into the Captain’s quarters. The soldier (sailor now?) waved his way through a few menu options and suddenly everything stopped. He stared at Steve, like he was an interesting puzzle. It should have scared him or made him nervous, probably, but this was just a game, and he wasn’t convinced this silent watcher meant him harm.

Steve finally broke the silence. “Did you just… pause… an MMO?”

This caused the soldier to look away, like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Steve insisted. “I’m impressed, honestly. This is… Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to do. Can you just talk to me?”

The soldier looked afraid now and something protective was rising in Steve’s chest. Before he could think twice, he was reaching for the soldier’s mask. His hand was slapped away. “Okay, that’s fine,” Steve placated. “Just… can you tell me if an avatar named Stork talked to Wingman yesterday before he logged off?”

There was a nervous look in the soldier’s eyes, but he shook his head once anyway. He pointed to the floor of the ship and Steve shook his head in confusion. “You can’t tell me or-? I’m not doing this quest. Clearly I failed. We’re all about to die, and I’m gonna be sent back to the Badlands.”

The soldier shook his head fiercely. He crossed the room fast enough to startle Steve, though he had no idea if his avatar showed the way he jumped half a foot in the air. He wrapped the blond in some parody of a hug, their faces too close and not in a charged-romantic-movie-about-to-kiss kind of way. It was an awkward, why-is-this-person-so-close-to-me kind of proximity that made Steve uncomfortable until he heard a very quiet command. It wasn’t in English. Maybe Russian, if Steve had to guess. Suddenly everything went dark and then the Triskelion bloomed into existence.

Steve had never seen this level before, and he looked around with wide eyes. The soldier clumsily put a hand over Steve’s mouth and he realized suddenly that maybe he was going to get the guy in trouble. He seemed scared, though Steve wasn’t sure of what. Steve pulled the hand away from his mouth, nodding to show he understood. As quietly as he could, he asked, “Do you work for Stark?”

The soldier’s eyes widened as he looked over Steve’s shoulder and that was where his memory stopped.

Sam was staring at him in concern. “Steve?”

“When did I log out?” he mumbled, feeling some cross between drunk, sick, and stupid.

“Thank God,” Sam breathed and leaned his head into his hands. He swatted at Steve’s knees. “What the hell was that? You logged and then just stared into space for like twenty minutes! Does your cheek sting? It fucking better, because I tried to slap you out of it and you just kept up with the creepy- What the fuck, Steve.”

He shook his head before turning to the side and vomiting. Steve was almost glad for his chronic illness because it meant he kept trash cans everywhere, and he managed to keep the mess confined to the one near the couch. Sam was already poking around in the cabinets until he found a glass and filled it with water. Steve drank miserably. “My head… feels like it got thrown in a blender.”

“What happened?”

Steve curled into the arm rest of the couch, letting his eyes fall shut. “The soldier doesn’t talk, but he’s definitely not an NPC. He can pause the game, Sam. He pulled me out of a sinking ship and we got to this… I don’t know, there were screens everywhere. Some of them were the city and the ship and the others had these samurai warriors… And then… I was sitting here and you were cussing at me.”

“Lucky all I did was cuss at you,” Sam muttered. “Why did you try to take on a whole region by yourself? You were just supposed to do recon.”

Steve curled into himself a little more. “He kept pointing at the Greeter,” he mumbled. “Figured if I did what he wanted, maybe he’d talk.”

“And did he?”

Steve thought about that quiet word, the soft voice that said it. “No,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then you stop going into situations blind. Whatever the hell was in that room, it messed with your head. They can black you out somehow, Steve. This is not a game anymore.”

“I know, Sam… Can you please stop yelling?”

Sam took a breath. “Shit, Steve,” he sighed. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Shit.”