“I’ve told you many, many times Senhor Capello, my son is not allowed to leave.” She says, utilizing the bravado of her accent to make clear her frustration, “And even if he was, I will not have my son run… head strong into a death trap. I will not have it!” She continues. Julian Capello, a representative of EthereaSoft’s Brazilian branch, sits across a small table from Ms. Del Bosque. The kitchen is bright and humble, inhabited by objects from various places that allow the room to scream of family togetherness. The suit he is wearing is being creased by the way he is sitting and by crossing his arms. And he doesn’t care. The charm he wanted to apply with his surefire combination of suit, hair, and cologne was being wasted on her. Or rather, wasted when pitted against a mother’s love for her son.

Lazaro is leaning against the wall, looking down at his feet. A mixture of embarrassment and worry dances upon his cheeks, wreaking havoc on his indecision to find a face to express. He’s dressed in denim jeans, almost too skinny for his legs. His red shirt has embroidery that is supposed to represent “loyalty”, but he knows it is just swirled lines of nonsense. And he likes it. Lazaro stays silent, unsure of when a good time to offer his two cents will be. But that won’t stop him from waiting for the right moment.

“An unknown situation, Ms. Del Bosque. Not a death trap. Our records show that he can deal massive amounts of elemental damage in PVE.” Says Mr. Capello. The mother looks up to the ceiling, seemingly calling down the aid of angels through her roof.

“Pelo amor de Deus! I have little idea for what you are saying!” She replies. Lazaro feels that he can no longer stand this useless back and forth.

“Mãe, PVE stands for Player vs. Environment. Or me versus the game. There are several things I can do that impacts the game’s challenges. It’s what I do, I break numbers down. The company that made the game wants me to use my gift to break numbers down to help those poor people trapped in the game. Listen to reason.” Lazaro says. His mother ponders for a moment, more than what Lazaro was expecting.

“No.” Is her stern answer, “No. My son gave up college to stay home. So he will stay home. I am not going to bury another man of—this—family. You cannot have him!” Mr. Capello sits straight, places his elbows on the table and emits a sigh of defeat.

“Well, Ms. Del Bosque, I cannot force your son into anything. We are not the military. So I must abide by your answer. Despite your son being 19, and legally old enough to make his own decisions in the country of Brazil.” He retorts, hoping his sardonic tone will go unnoticed, and at the same time hoping it won’t.

“Aye, os militares maldita. Send them in. They have no problem dying for strangers from other countries!” She shouts. Both Mr. Capello and Lazaro wince at the very comment. There have been wars before there were treaties, and some wounds are still fresh. Mr. Capello stands up from the table and heads for the front door, passing Lazaro.

“You have my card, if you wish to change your mind.” He says. Lazaro follows him briefly to the door.

“Hey, Julian?” He asks, as Mr. Capello nods, “Yeah. Listen. I really want to do this. Minha mãe is just overly concerned, and I doubt there’s anything I can do to help out. I mean, my accounts have been banned and all...” Lazaro trails off. Julian crosses his arms, and lowers his voice to a hush.

“We still have your Druid in our archives. Top level. Charms and equipment untouched.” Julian says, speaking much like a dealer would to a recently recovering addict. Lazaro smirks and looks back at his mother, who is still staring at the floor and contemplating a cigarette. He looks back at Julian and also—mockingly—lowers his voice.

“Watch this shit.” Lazaro says, taking a few steps towards his mother and places his hand on her shoulder, to comfort and console. She places her hand upon his and sighs. His smirk wides when his speaks.

“Mãe,” He says as she looks up at her son, “what would Jesus have me do?”

Silence.

She takes her hand off of his and stands up, throwing her hands in the air, cursing in Portuguese with a voice that could stop a charging bull. Seething anger and seeming rationale spews from her mouth for the next minute or so. She falls quiet. Hands on the counter, hair in a mess. The smirk had yet to leave Lazaro’s face. Julian only watched. She turns to look at her son, but stops a moment to glance at Julian with her teary-eyed resolution.

“If my son wants to risk his life for the greater good… I will not stop him.” She says, resigned. Lazaro looks at Julian, wanting badly to give him the thumbs up. Julian knew, and appreciated the discretion.

“But he gets a day to say goodbye to a família!” She demands, making Julian almost jump out of his skin.

A portal opens up in The Realms, in a starting area called Astren Bluffs. Materializes is Lazaro’s avatar, draped in a cloak seemingly made of vines. He draws his staff, a gnarled oak branch topped with a faintly glowing quartz. The portal dissipates. The Bluffs can be seen as a small village atop a plateau, with a waterfall to the south. Vibrant greens and tall pines pock the village, the tips of which barely reaching the bottom of passing clouds. Flowers of all colors cover the outskirts. As Lazaro looks around, he notices that everything is silent. No birds, a quiet breeze, no conversation. It’s baffling, and disturbing. He also notices that the NPCs that occupy the typical places—blacksmiths, shoppes, and inns—are looking at him.

“Hey, Jules?” He asks aloud, using the nano-cams to contact his handler, Julian Capello.

“I hear you, Laz. Everything check out?” Julian asks. Lazaro took that as a reminder to open up his Avatar screen and look through his belongings. He has his staff, his backup dagger, his cloak, boots, belts, all of it. Everything is as he left it since he and all subsequent accounts were exiled for playing the system. For bending the rules. He didn’t want to look through the next page on his Avatar screen, for it was his skills that his avatar was capable off. Spells and techniques. Those have been changed and updated since his exile, and he didn’t want to risk being sucked into the intricacies. His wheel house. It would take up so much time.

“So far, so good.” He responds. He quickly switches his screen to the map and uses his EKG to find the closest abductee. He found one not too far, as he discovered when he marked his map with the location.

“So I found the first one, close by the Long Hollow. Am I to engage?” He asks as he locates the stone-made stairway leading down the cliff and too the field below.

“Actually, no.” Responds Julian. Lazaro recoils as if a wasp landed on his nose.

“No? What am I here for?” He asks, starting down the steps to the Long Hollow regardless. A scoff and shuffling papers inhabit the background noise.

“You… are here to save people, yes. But that particular target… Person, is already flagged. Look, open your Avatar screen and get to the map tab.” Says Julian, Lazaro stops his descent and does as he was asked. He finds the map and even aims it to locate the EKG.

“Notice the color of that person?” Asks Julian. Lazaro shakes his head and lifts a shoulder, a typical response to a stupid question.

“Yeah, green. Why?”

“Green are the abductees. Blue are the other players. Red are enemies. And we even updated the Hoard Watcher mod to see all treasures of all types. No need to thank us. Look around and you’ll see a blue dot. That’s, uh… That’s a vet, Lieutenant Warren McAlister. He’s been in the realms for about an hour and ran into some trouble on the way, but he’s got that green dot. Look for another one.” Julian explains. Lazaro looks down the stairs. Pondering.

“I’m going anyways, Jules. If he ran into trouble on the way here, he could use backup. I’d rather play it safe for my first rescue, because I don’t know what else you guys messed up when I was gone.” Lazaro says, descending the stairs once more. Another sigh is heard.

“I could repeat myself, but what a waste of time that would be. And what else would we mess up?” Asks Julian. Lazaro reached the bottom and opens the map to affirm the direction of the EKG. As he turns his arm to bring up the Avatar screen, he responds.

“I use hazards to my advantage, Jules. The way the game was designed? The damage it does is static, yet formidable. I found a loophole with how the Druid casts spells; the druid can amplify the damage and change the element attached to it. If you didn’t change it, which I’m guess you haven’t, I can be your main line-” Jules had heard enough, “Clever, Laz, but your goal isn’t to destroy monsters by the mob. Find the target and get he or she to safety.” Lazaro shakes his head as he looks into his list of spells he can cast.

He spotted his mainstay of transportation called “Swift Form”. It allows him to transform into a creature, a hodgepodge of an animal from earth and an animal from The Realms. The choice lays with the player. Lazaro chose a form of a large feline mixed with a fox, the creature is called a Vonnalinx. It is shaped like a cheetah with no spots on its fur and a solid color of dark teal, bearing six bushy tail of that of a fox. Lazaro chose this form due to its raw speed on land; certainly faster than any affordable mount on land.

He chooses this spell, the staff reacts by having a bright blue mist surround him, the light encompasses him and then fades. He is now this creature, the Vonnalinx, and he begins to take off for the target in the Long Hollow. As he runs incredibly fast, with the trees approaching then diminishing within a moment, he sends Julian Capello one more message.

“Jules, I’m here to save people. If you don’t like how I do it, then log in yourself.” He then cuts the communication and begins to sprint towards the target.

The Long Hollow has always been misty; shortening the visible distance only noticeably. Now, the mist had evolved into a fog, only allowing a clear field of vision within a few feet. Oaks dot the landscape, providing a dulling shade over the road to the hollow. Lazaro arrives before a wall of gray, a wall that ebbs slightly due to the wind his running carried along. He looks around as a curious cat would, shifting his shoulders and tilting his head this way and that. He then decides to put his back towards the fog, sit, and wait. Cats always look badass sitting this way, he thought. After a few moments, impatience began to set in. He gestured his left paw to bring up his Avatar screen, and selects the map to use the EKG. He doesn’t see the blue dot anywhere. He scoffs.

“Onde diabos é esse idiota?” He says aloud, unaware that his feline mouth moves when he speaks. The whiskers caught him unawares, he didn’t even hear the draw of a bowstring.

“Talvez esse idiota não quer ser encontrado, amigo.” He hears above him. Lazaro shuts his avatar screen off and rears for an attack, peering upward. Still only sees branches. The voice was gruff, almost gravel. The key accents were there, but the dialect seemed forced, perhaps mocked.

“Don’t want to be found? Only covardes fight in the dark!” Lazaro shouts. Without making any noise at all, a figure drops down, clad in a duster seemingly made of thorns and leaves, bearing a crossbow outfitted with a scope aimed between the Vonnalinx’s eyes.

“I don’t need the dark, friend.” The figure says, speaking with a slight American southern drawl. Lazaro ceases his “Swift Form” spell, changing back into his humanoid avatar. The figure slowly lowers his crossbow.

“Whatever. My name is Lazaro Del Bosque. You that vet guy?” He asks, attempting to sound natural and harmless. The figure approaches Lazaro in one fleet, large stride. He stands before Lazaro, his face inches away.

“First Lieutenant Warren McAlister, 22nd Platoon. Level 80 dual-classed Ranger and Stalker, and went through some shit to get here. You have a problem with personal space?” He asks. Lazaro nods, and Warren chuckles.

“You my backup, kid?” Asks Warren. Lazaro furrows his brow, but eases his stance.

“My handler said you took your time. Perhaps you needed a hand.” Lazaro responds, trying not to speak too loudly to a man whose face is mere inches from his own. Warren goes around him and waves his hand, telling him to follow along. Lazaro takes a minute to register the gesture, then steps quickly to catch up.

“I didn’t take my time, kid. I was given the process. I show up around the Mazum Boglands. And the EKG showed up in an underground brawling arena. Gave my all, got my info. Led me to a thief. Led me to the guild. Greased a few palms. Now I’m here.” Warren explained. He had a rhythm to his speech; a peak and trough. His stride had its own tempo. It just dawned on Lazaro that Warren’s hood was still up. It dawned on him because it bothered him that he has yet to see his face. His stare became obvious within moments.

“I see you’re paying attention.” Says Warren, Lazaro puts more distance between them as a reaction.

“You have an invisible face. Eu sinto Muito. But you are saying the game… It took you on a quest?” Lazaro responds. Warren removes his hood as a retort, exposing his pale stubble on his chin and cheek, his intense brown eyes, and his long disheveled hair slicked back and put into a blond knot. A man-bun, as some would call it.

“Yeah. Something like that. A quest with no objective list. I had to make it up as I went.” Warren answers. Lazaro hears a crackle in his ear, reminding him that Julian has been listening.

“Jules, you know anything about this quest line? It seems when you wanted to shut those down, you missed one.” Lazaro says, holding his index and middle finger to his ear, even though he had no earpiece. It was to signify that he was talking to his handler. Warren appreciated that. Even though bluetooth technology has been long replaced by something else, it was was still used by the majority of the military. And he could never tell if his CO was talking to him or to the other person on the line. Luckily, it was only frustrating. Not lethal.

“I know of no such thing, Laz.” Responds Julian, “There is no quest that has that progression. I’m sure his handler already found that out. But is McAlister saying that the game made this up? Using the EKG ping as a quest-follow point?”

“Lieutenant?” Lazaro asks, having Warren glance over, “Did the Realms invent this quest, you think?” Warren then looks forward and ponders.

“Certainly seems that way. Not sure why it’d be using the EKG as a carrot on a stick. How would the game know?” Asks Warren. Lazaro shrugs. The possibility seemed very real, but the reason behind it would seem too farfetched. Why would the game string along players? Then again, why is the game kidnapping people? It seems to Lazaro that it’s pointless to rule out anything. The remainder of travel was silent, save for footsteps and clicking keys on a board and sliding paper. The fog never lifted, in fact it’s been closing in. Blocking out the fake sun. Quieting all things. Hushing the footsteps. Fading out the breathing to near nothingness. Then all that was left was a pair of heart beats. And the heroes traveled on.

Next Chapter: Chapter 003: Encounter