Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the acidic taste of bile lingering on his tongue. He stared at the mess on his floor, the puddle reflecting the blue glow of his monitor.
What the hell just happened?
His monitor had returned to the world map, the red "MISSION FAILURE" notification still pulsing in the center of the screen. Arthur reached out with trembling fingers and clicked it away. The interface responded smoothly, transitioning back to the global view where other mission markers continued their silent blinking.
"Not possible," he muttered, pushing his chair back from the desk. "Not real."
He stumbled to the bathroom, rinsed his mouth, and splashed cold water on his face. The shock of it helped clear his head. Water dripped from his stubby chin as he stared at himself in the mirror. Same face. Same apartment. Same world where people didn't get abducted by things wearing human suits.
It was just a game. An extremely realistic game.
Arthur grabbed a towel and wiped his face, then returned to his desk. The puddle of vomit could wait. He needed answers.
He studied the interface with new intensity. The graphics were photorealistic, yes, but he'd seen cutting-edge games before. The animations were fluid, but that was achievable with current mocap technology. The sound design was impeccable, but again, within the realm of possibility.
What wasn't possible was the AI response. The way Mark had reacted, the naturalness of his movements, the subtle facial expressions—those weren't pre-programmed animations. That level of procedural generation simply didn't exist.
Unless...
Arthur's eyes narrowed. Maybe it wasn't procedural at all. Maybe he'd been watching a real person through a camera. Some kind of elaborate ARG—alternate reality game—where actors played roles and streamers like him were unwitting participants.
He shook his head again. The sheer detail in how the wrong-men moved, the physics of the objects, even the way the milk and cereals splashed on the floor—suggested months, maybe years, of work. All that, just for a brief mission buried among hundreds? It didn't add up.
It made no economical or any other kind of sense.
This was a puzzle that had no immediate answers, but he liked those the best.
Arthur glanced back at his monitor. Another Rescue mission had appeared on the east coast, timer counting down from ten minutes.
His rational mind told him to shut down the computer, maybe even disconnect it from the internet and bring it to some expert repair shop. This was either an elaborate prank or the most invasive and perplexing malware he'd ever encountered.
But another part of him—the part that thrived on challenges, that hated losing—wanted to try again. Wanted to prove he could win.
He hesitated, cursor hovering over the mission marker—somewhere in Texas. His heart pounded, adrenaline kicking in. That familiar thrill was back, sharper than it had been in years.
He clicked the marker.
The brief appeared: "Secure target: Emily Chen, 34, data analyst. Secondary objective: Prevent collection of classified materials. No allied forces in vicinity. Local assets only."
A video feed appeared showing a woman in business attire alone in an office high-rise, hunched over her keyboard. The room was dark except for her desk lamp and the glow of her monitor. Behind her, the city skyline glittered through floor-to-ceiling windows. The timer displayed 8:00.
Arthur studied the scene, his tactical mind already working. Unlike Mark's apartment, this office had security features—card readers on doors, cameras in hallways, a proper alarm system. He could work with that.
He moved his cursor around, checking which objects he could interact with. The results were similar to Mark's apartment. No units to control directly, but he could talk to Emily.
Arthur clicked on her.
[OBSERVE] [PROTECT] [TALK]
He chose [TALK] again, but this time approached it differently. He'd failed with Mark by relying on the dialogue wheel. This time, he went straight for direct communication.
"Emily Chen," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and steady, he wasn't a big fan of talking to strangers, or people in general, but remind himself that it was a game character and he was just roleplaying, helped steady his nerves.
On screen, Emily's head snapped up, eyes wide. She looked around the empty office.
"Who's there?" The subtitle appeared at the bottom of the screen as she spoke. Her hand moved toward her phone, no signal.
"Don't be alarmed," Arthur continued, maintaining the same steady tone. "This is building security. We've detected an unauthorized access attempt targeting your terminal."
He had no idea if this would work, but people responded to authority and confidence. Emily's hand froze over her phone.
"Security? I don't—" She frowned. "Why aren't you coming through the intercom system?"
Good question. Arthur thought fast.
"The system's been compromised. We're using a secure communications channel through your workstation." He watched her reaction carefully. "We need you to follow standard data breach protocol immediately." A pearl of sweat trickled down his forehead, would the bluff work?
Emily's posture changed subtly—straightening, becoming more alert. "Should I contact IT directly?"
"Negative. Your phone and regular channels may be monitored." Arthur was improvising, but years of strategy games had taught him to think on his feet. "We need you to secure any classified materials and exit the building immediately."
Emily hesitated, then nodded. She began typing rapidly, apparently locking down her system.
The timer read 7:05. So far, so good.
A notification flashed at the edge of Arthur's screen: "HOSTILES DETECTED YOUR ACTIVITIES. ETA: 30 SECONDS."
His pulse quickened. Unlike with Mark, he wouldn't be caught unprepared this time.
"Ms. Chen," he said, "we're detecting multiple unauthorized individuals approaching your floor. You need to move now."
Emily's eyes widened. "What? Who—"
"There's no time. Take only your computer. Leave through the east stairwell, not the elevator." The mission was clear: prevent the collection of classified material. Her computer was the most likely target—that had to be what they were after.
She grabbed her purse and phone, shutting down her computer and shoving it in her bag. Arthur scanned the office layout, looking for an advantage. The timer showed 20 seconds left.
He noticed a camera in the corner and clicked on it, a new option appeared on his interface: [SURVEILLANCE ACCESS].
"Neat!" Arthur clicked it immediately. A secondary window split into multiple camera feeds opened—hallways, stairwells, the elevator bank. And there they were.
Three figures in maintenance uniforms, standing in the elevator facing the door, quiet and still like statues. Not human. Their faces weren't visible from the camera angle, but Arthur knew what he'd see if they turned around.
The floor indicator showed they were four levels below Emily's.
"Ms. Chen, take your access card. When you reach the stairwell, jam the card reader with anything you can find—a piece of paper, a wrapper, anything to prevent it from reading other cards."
Emily nodded, moving quickly to the office door. "Can't you just lock—"
"Just trust me. Move."
The elevator indicator showed two floors to go.
Emily swiped her card at her office door, then moved into the hallway. Arthur's view followed her seamlessly, as if a camera was tracking her movements.
"Turn right, then second left to reach the stairwell," he instructed.
She followed his directions, her heels clicking on the polished floor. The sound echoed in the empty building.
One floor to go.
"You need to run, now," Arthur said, his voice tight.
Emily broke into a jog, her purse clutched to her chest, despite being fit her cheeks had began flushing red. She reached the stairwell door, swiped her card, and pushed through.
"Jam the reader," Arthur reminded her.
She fumbled in her purse, pulled out a receipt, and wedged it into the card slot, using her card to push it deeper. "Will that work?"
"It'll have to. Go down—all the way to the lobby. Don't stop for anyone."
The elevator dinged. Doors opened. The not-maintenance workers stepped out and turned toward the direction Emily had gone, just in time for the two parties to lock eyes.
"Ah!" She cried out seeing the disfigured figures sprinting towards her. She slammed the door and throwing away her heels descended barefooted.
Arthur tracked Emily's descent while monitoring the pursuers. Both feeds played side by side, the tension rising with every frame. They reached the stairwell door, one swiping a card. The light on the reader blinked red. The receipt had worked.
But then one of them simply grabbed the handle and pulled.
Metal groaned, electronic locks snapped.
"Run faster!" Arthur shouted.
Emily was already three floors down, taking the stairs as quickly as she could, her calves screamed but adrenaline kept her fast. The creatures entered the stairwell, moving with frightening speed despite their awkward gait.
The gap was closing.
Arthur frantically searched his interface for any other options, any way to help.
"There! Pull the fire alarm!" Emily didn't even stop, smoothly pulling the small lever while running, she could hear the cacophony of steps a floor or two higher.
Immediately, sirens blared through the building. Strobe lights flashed in the stairwell. On screen, Emily stumbled briefly in surprise, then continued downward.
The creatures pursuing her paused, heads tilting in unison like confused predators. They seemed disoriented by the noise and light.
Arthur's mind raced. The alarm would buy some time and bring some emergency responders, hopefully that should increase her chances.
"Stay on the stairs until you reach the ground floor," he told Emily. "There should be security guards responding to the alarm. Stay with them."
Her breathing was heavy now, fatigue setting in. "Who are those people? What do they want?"
"Not people," Arthur muttered under his breath, then louder: "Just keep moving."
The creatures had resumed their pursuit, though the alarm seemed to have slowed them. They moved more cautiously, almost as if they were trying to appear normal despite no one being there to see them.
Emily reached the ground floor, bursting through the stairwell door into the lobby. As Arthur had hoped, two security guards were already there, responding to the alarm.
"Help!" Emily gasped. "Someone's chasing me!"