(Maxwell Martan)

Max stood by the window looking out at the rain pouring down at the city that had been his home for so long. Lightning flashed across the sky and he could briefly see the world in full. Stree lights and traffic made it look like some macabra starry night. He was in his penthouse apartment high above everyone and everything. It was meant to make him feel like a god standing over creation, but all it made him feel was alone and like the whole world knew his sin. He stood on a pedestal on display to everyone. The emperor’s new clothes on full display waiting for the child to point it out to everyone. He knew what he did to make things happen was wrong, but he had justified it at the time. Buying people is a great sin, something that had been made illegal and immoral a long time ago, and using them in a crazy experiment was a new level of low for him. 

Steven and Lulu were both happy now and she had even been saved by his staff, but it ate at him little by little. He was still using them for data and would earn more money than he felt comfortable with. He drained his glass and stumbled back to the bar for another. He hadn’t slept in days and was hoping the drink would make that happen or at least give him the strength to do the right thing. Stumbling and swaying, he nearly fell at the step to the marble table that held a large selection of liquid courage and looked over at the five empty ones laying on their sides. “Forgive me little ones. I see I have had my fill already.” He tried to smile, but only half his mouth lifted. It was a little odd, but he was too drunk to care. “I need to sssssit down.” The whiskey was making him slur a little more than normal. He did have a fair amount to drink though. He stumbled to his big leather chair and tilted his head back. The room was thankfully dark, but still spun. He Took a large steadying breath and spoke slowly into the dark room. “Jinna.” It was a high school girlfriend he had loved so very long ago. What would she think of the man he was now? His people had looked her up and she had a long happy life with a loving family. He was happy for her, but still felt the loss of never having a family of his own. The computer came to life, but quickly dimmed the screen. He laughed slightly at the forethought to put in an auto dimming program.

“Yes Sir.” He liked the old movies with the talking female computers and had modeled his home system after one. A smile lifted half his face as he remembered the ones he had seen with his dad. Strange, one side felt numb. The hand on that side felt numb too and moved like a club. It had to be the drink he never drank like this before so it must be that.

“Jinna. Pleassse run nero.” He said into the dim room. a few beeps went by and her voice came to him.

“Are you sure? Confirm with the password.” Her voice was emotionless and flat but still offered some solace in the cold night. How had he gone so long without a loving wife or family? His mind rolled over Steven and Lu-Shi. 

“E I E I O.” He laughed a little at that as he had made that after he found out Steven would be a farmer. Just seemed fitting. He was tired. So very tired

“Confirmed. Running NERO. You have 30 seconds to cancel. Beginning countdown. 30, 29...” She started counting and he just let it run thinking about what was about to happen. Across town a phone would ring until picked up and that cute young reporter would get a data packet with all his sins laid bare. What was her name? He was having trouble thinking and his vision started to blur. He needed sleep, so tired. He looked up when he heard a warning buzzer and saw a flashing red light. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. Running NERO.” The fireplace lit and a soft violin started coming through the speakers. The song was “It’s time to say goodbye.” He had forgotten who wrote it or played it, but it eased his heart. Soft, sad and a fitting end to his legacy. All of his wealth was now gone, donated to charity. This apartment would only be in his name for a few more days and then be sold. A day before that a donation center would show up and take everything away, selling it off and donating every penny to children’s hospitals. 

He was now flat broke and happy just like when he had started. The song was slowing and his left eye closed on its own and he let the right one join it. Thoughts seemed to be coming slower now and he didn’t care. Maybe he could finally sleep in peace. The door was unlocked and in the morning the police would be there to cart him off to the cell he earned. He took a slow shuddering breath and let it out. It seemed a bit strange that he didn’t need to breathe back in after that. He heard the door open and looked up. His vision was a bit strange in a way he couldn’t describe. Steven walked in holding the mythril scythe that Max had designed for him. The lad must have figured out how to gain access to the end game tools. How was he here though? Steven walked up to Max and looked down at him standing and smiling in a way that wasn’t like the easy going young man.

“You aren’t Steven, are you?” Max asked, but his own voice was wrong. Not Steven sadly smiled and shook his head.

“No, sorry, I’m not.” His voice was ancient and somehow powerful. It was like Max was talking to his great grandfather. Max was confused and not sure what was really happening.

“Why do you look like him?” Max asked. He smirked in a strange way that spoke to years of giving bad news and took a deep breath. Max was a little unsettled that he didn’t seem to be breathing himself. The gears were turning and yet he was still missing some pieces.

“I try to take on the form of someone you can lean on as we go to the next life.” Max looked down and saw the top of his own head. He knew his heart should be hammering, but he felt nothing as it clicked in.

“Oh.” Max chuckled a little, but it was a sad laugh. His day had finally come and his only thought was that he was happy he was able to run NERO before he died. “What can I call you young man?” Max asked the reaper come to claim him. He actually smiled at Max and looked into Max’s eyes.

“I always liked the name Old Tom.” A slight tear was in Tom’s eye as he held out a hand to Max. “It’s a name lost to time though. Well Max, are you ready to go?”  He asked in a grandfatherly way. Max shrugged, not sure how he felt about everything.

“Is anyone really ready to go? I do have one question though.” Max asked, meeting Old Tom’s eyes. Old Tom nodded a comforting smile on his face. Max could see that he had heard these questions a thousand times before. “Was I a good man?” Tom laughed and cried a little as he reached out to Max. He must really have a hard job. It wasn’t like Old Tom had killed him. He had killed himself with the drink and guilt.

“I find that the people who ask that are seldom the ones who ever need to.” Old Tom said. Max just shrugged his soul felt lighter somehow. If anyone knew the measure of a man, it would be the reaper before him. “Yes you left this world far better than you found it and left a light of hope behind. Your soul is a little weighed down, but I can handle that.” Max took his hand and felt light like swimming in a pool. His soul floated as he was freed of his morat coil. His old joints didn’t hurt and his head felt clear.

“Where will I be going?” Max asked.

“I have a plan.” Old Tom said as they moved through the window and off into the night. The rain didn’t touch them, the cold didn’t bite, the wind didn’t move his hair. He was a ghost and despite not knowing what was going to happen, he was okay and free.

(Mar-Tan)

The game world glitched in a far corner that no one was looking at or would notice. A small boy popped into existence laying in a field of long grass. He had to be all of thirteen and wore common linen pants and a shirt that was too big for him. A belt helped hold it to his middle that was a little on the thin side. On his belt was a wooden sword and a wooden shield lay beside him in the long grass. Mar-tan stood and shook his head. He had been having a strange dream about being an old man. The vague memory faded from his mind as he yawned. He brushed the dirt from his backside and looked around. This was a strange place. His village was destroyed in the war and he was now homeless and wondering, but no better story for a hero than that. He would have to forge his own story in this new place. He was going to become a hero.

{ZeroGiven40}

Sorry to end things on a somber note, but this is needed to set up a few things moving forward. Martan needed to be a sacrificial lamb to save the company and the system. He will not have his own story yet but may make an appearance in a book down the road. How do you feel about Popcorn Dude? Was he a bad or did the ends justify the means?