(Frauw – Occupation: Lit) (Amos)

  The remains of the building (once a shop that, ironically, sold remodeling supplies), now house mounds of wreckage and debris. The front wall of the building is all but destroyed, now little more than a gaping hole facing the street where a man lies, groaning. Four others litter the scene, each one either knocked out or worse. Blood pools around one of the four. Amos stands in the middle of the shop, gripping the neck of a kid around his age, holding the lad a half foot off the ground. Gagging noises arise from his broken teeth. A hand grabs Amos’s wrist.

  It’s Christ. “Asshole… What the hell are you doing?” After Amos turns to face him, Christ squeezes his clanmate's wrist, causing Amos to release the kid.

  The kid falls, knocking his head against the hard floor. He begins to hold his neck as he searches for air, gasping in intervals.

  “They were setting up shop at our bar,” Amos says, with a glare.

  Christ yanks Amos's arm to the other side. “I told you not to worry about it.”

  Cazel tends to the man in the street as Xander starts placing healing pads on the bleeding man on the ground, neither one giving Amos a second look.

  “But we own this place,” Amos responds.

  Releasing Amos’s wrist, Christ growls. “We don’t own anything but the shit on our backs! It’s just a damn horse barn we turned into a bar a long time ago. Nothing worth killing over.” Christ scratches the back of his head. “What the hell, man…”

  Amos gazes at his red wrist. “But…”

  Christ points. “Go back to the manor and we’ll discuss this after the three of us help these people.”

  “But…” Amos repeats.

  “NOW!” Christ yells, grimacing with rage.

  Amos steps back a couple of feet. Christ has never given him that look. He made his way back through the streets, where clouds of dust still hung in the air. Although most people had fled, a few peeked out from alleyways to watch him pass. Before long, he was back at the manor.

  It wasn’t until an hour after Amos returned to the manor that the others arrived. Amos, who had been sitting on the fountain and watching the floating leaves – each like a crewless raft – stood as Cazel and the others came through the front gate.

  “Amos, come with me to the library, now.” Cazel said. “I want to talk with you alone.”

  Amos glances at Christ and Xander, who both give him pitiful looks. “Okay…” Amos follows Cazel into the next room, closing the door behind him. Amos turns away, avoiding Cazel’s gaze, but Cazel refuses to turn away from him.

  “Amos, look at me,” Cazel demands.

  A sigh leaves Amos. Cazel grips him by the shoulders and turns him into an embrace.

  Cazel pulls himself back, clamping his hands onto his clanmate's shoulders once again. “What the hell was that? Two people almost died back there.”

  “Do you want to know, or do you want to understand?”

  Cazel tightens his grip on Amos. “What the hell kind of question is that? I want to know why you did that so I can make you understand why it was wrong.”

  “Point proven.”

  “AMOS!” Cazel yells, shaking his friend. “You could have killed real people over that bullshit!”

  “What’s different from any other time we’ve did that?”

  “Death, Amos! People will die!” Cazel steps back a few feet before moving in a circle around a nearby table. “Listen, I realize we weren’t the best of the best on the old servers—scamming, calling people slurs, destroying fabrics of clans, and making enemies to the point we got fucking doxxed. That was a persona, not the real us!”

  Amos shakes his head. “No. That’s who we are. So many enemies… Why else would all the major clans have smaller clans place bounties on us?”

  “It’s never too late to make a change,” Cazel pleads, but as Amos turns away, Cazel grabs him again, forcing their eyes to lock. “Make this easier for me, at least. I’m already at my wit’s fucking end. Relieve some of the pressure on me. This world is already so difficult to breathe in.” Tears build at the corners of Cazel’s eyes.

  Amos takes a moment for his heartbeat to calm down. “What do you mean, wit’s end?”

  Cazel relaxes his posture. “I—I don’t want to do this anymore. I can only keep up this facade for so long.”

  With wide eyes and shaking fingers, Amos grabs Cazel’s hand. “Why…”

  “I talked to Xander about this yesterday.” Cazel attempts to utter the following words but chokes on them. After a few seconds to collect himself, he speaks. “My mind… It’s been running too much. It’s difficult to sleep… Amos, I can’t keep doing this; I’m going to end… Stop… Fuck!”

  Amos stares at Cazel, speechless. Was this one of his jokes? “This isn’t funny, Cazel.”

  Cazel shakes his head. “It’s not supposed to be.” They stare at each other as he swallows a dry gulp. “That day after murdering the Dulman clan, I can’t seem to remove their faces from my memory. I feel like I have to leave the clan. Either way, I’m going to be the first one…out. I need to find my own way, take a different direction.”

  Amos grabs onto Cazel’s arm, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, this is my fault. Please don’t – don’t leave me. What can I do?”

  Cazel runs his hand up from Amos’s back and rubs the youngling's hair. “There’s nothing you can do; it’s what I have to do.”

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  Amos rubs his eyes. “What about Zero!?”

  Cazel’s gaze drifts. “I’ll wait for him to get home before I leave. It’s the least I can do.”

  Separation from Cazel is something Amos can’t comprehend. Every enjoyable moment he had in this game was by his side—all the memories of building their characters, of making names for themselves. “Wa… What about us… We’re The Notorious Three!”

  Cazel steps back, still averting his gaze. He paces the room until he arrives at a window and stares out at the manor’s courtyard. Sunlight glints off the gilding on his armor. “You know I’ll always be there for you. My heart is for you two, and this clan is stronger than brazer, but nothing lasts forever. You know that. My real blood brother told me as much. He warned me that, as I get older and stuff got in the way, friendships would end.” Cazel turns away from the window and leans on a nearby lectern as he finally meets Amos’s gaze. “It’s life.”

  Amos shakes his head. “Not very comforting words.”

  Cazel cracks a grin. “Not all words are. But that’s not all my blood brother said. It’s not about holding on to people, but to good memories. If you try juggle them both, you’ll just drop the memories and sully them. Then you’ll lose both.”

  “Didn’t your brother get four different girls pregnant?” Cazel grins.

  “Five. The guy didn’t believe in condoms ‘til the fifth.” Cazel breaks his grin with a chuckle. “I never said he was always correct, but he made sure I learned from his mistakes.”

  Amos stands and stretches. “Holy shit, five.”

  Cazel wraps an arm around Amos. “I love the little sinkers, but the holiday dinners are awkward as hell.” They share a laugh before lowering their gaze.

  Amos wipes the tears building at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Well, I'm not leaving right away, so give yourself some time to think about it,” Cazel says.

  Amos pulls Cazel in for a final hug.

  They exit the room and enter the kitchen, meeting the others. After a few apologies and some banter, they hear a knock at the front door. They scan each other’s faces, wondering if their caller would be friend or foe.

  Christ places a finger on his nose. “Not it.”

  Cazel does the same. “Not it!”

  “Not it!” Xander says third.

  It’s too late: Amos barely touches his nose. “Not… Damn it.” The others chuckle, but Xander joins Amos as he approaches the manor’s double doors. Amos leans up to them. “Who goes there?!”

  “Uh… Ship,” says the man behind the door.

  Amos and Xander stare at each other, their eyes widening. They rush to undo the locks and open the door.

  Xander grabs Ship’s shoulders. “Welcome, brother.” Xander wraps his arm around Ship before pushing him back with his fingers plugging his nose. “You sti–”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know I reek. I’ve been training for the past two weeks, not to mention I walked here from the west coast. All I need is a bath and my first bed to sleep in for a month.”

  Amos’s head jerks back. He wasn’t expecting such an attitude. Ship was indifferent most of the time, borderline emotionless. Amos was about to speak, but Xander beat him to the punch.

  “You alright, mate?” Xander asks.

  Ship’s torn-up clothes and armor vanish into thin air. “Sorry, I’m just done for today. I promise I’ll be better tomorrow.” The clothes and armor reappear as they fall to the outside ground. Even Ship’s boxers are in rough shape.

  “No worries, I’ll fix you a shower and have someone make your bed,” Xander says, before pulling away from the door.

  “Oh, Amos, before I forget,” Ship holds out his palm. A scroll-like newspaper appears in his hand. “You, Cazel, and Zero should look at this.” Ship hands the newspaper to Amos before entering the manor and greeting the rest of the clan.

  After Amos and Cazel prepare Ship’s room, Amos unfurls the newspaper. Cazel and Christ hang over Amos as the three begin reading. The headline reads: LIT TAKES THE FIRST STEP! The article, dated one day after the deaths of the Dulman clan, claims that the members of Lit felt comfortable sparking a war in Westpoint. Led by General Mamer, all-out war was now engulfing the region. The article also states that the death of the Dulman Clan is the reason for the escalation. Though untrue, Lit would have to go along with the narrative. It couldn’t be helped that, once again, WAL would take the blame for everything.

  Cazel sighs. “That’s… I don’t know.”

  On the next page, the second headline reads:

  IKER, THE ONE-MAN ARMY, HAS PASSED AWAY.

  Amos gasps as he grabs his mouth.

  Cazel’s eyes widen as he gasps, too. “No fucking way.”

  After blankly staring at the headline for a moment, Amos begins to read the text. The more he reads, the less he believes that the one man who stripped the Notorious Three of their recognition in the revolutionary days is dead. The only person whom Cazel, Amos, and Zero haven't been able to beat—let alone touch—is gone. Yet, in his growing disbelief, the words reveal that Iker’s death was the result of five hours of non-stop fighting. Backstabbed by his clan, with Sanity’s support, Iker died on his feet.

  “Damn…” Amos says, placing a palm on his forehead. “I don’t know how to feel about this.”

  Cazel shakes his head. “I’m just surprised that he wasn’t immortal.”

  Out of nowhere, Christ whips his pointer finger at another headline, nearly snapping a hole in the paper. “NO WAY!”

  Both Cazel and Amos lean forward. “What?” they say in unison, before finding the headline Christ was pointing to.

  NPC BROTHEL OPENED IN COCKINGTON. Christ’s eyes light up and he pumps his fist. “A whorehouse, my boys!”

  Amos is flabbergasted to the point where his mouth attempts to make a noise but fails. For one moment, he tries to feel for a deceased rival, but the flood of Christ’s boorishness block his attempt at humility.

  Christ comes within inches of Amos. “Lil’ bro, let’s make a trip.”

  “No,” Amos says.

  Christ shakes Amos. “Come on, let's bang some hot NPCs!”

  “No!” Amos repeats.

  Undeterred, Christ looks as if he’s about to start jumping for joy. He glances at Cazel, eyebrows raised. Cazel shakes his head.

  “So, no Zero?” Ship says as he enters the kitchen with one towel around his crotch and another drying his hair. He’s sporting a six-pack that, were he to lose any more body fat, would become a less natural looking eight-pack.

  Amos, noticing how absurdly fit Ship’s training had left him, recalled that he had lost some weight and gained some muscle, but his abatement still wasn’t as cemented as the others. He should work on that. “Zero won't be back for a while. Hypno needed some help, and Zero answered.”

  “Right…” Ship gazes down. “Well, good night, I guess.”

  Cazel turns to Ship. “Why did you only ask for him?”

  “Last I saw was that you guys were going to kill off the Dulman clan.” Ship stares at them, confused. “I’d just thought Zero’d be back by now.”

  The sound of a faucet from the nearby kitchen causes the four to pause. Xander, rinsing a dirty plate, joins the conversation from afar with a raised voice. The four turn to get a distant glimpse of him from the side. “Brother, we sent you many PMs.” Xander opens his interface and, though none of the four can see its contents from where they are, Xander’s eyes and fingers show enough movement to validate his claim. “Yeah, it says here you opened them.”

  “Oh…” Ship says nonchalantly.

  The rest of the room locks eyes with him as he backs into the hall.

  Christ snaps from his gaze. “Okay, back to those big-breasted, goth NPCs…?”

  “No!” Cazel and Amos say in unison. From the kitchen, Xander’s laughter all but drowns out the sound of the faucet.