It was neither early nor late in the evening, but that period of time
just after everyone had gone home for the evening.  For the security
guards, it meant that they had some time to relax and kick back before
having to do rounds.  It was all a formality anyway.  The job
consisted of turning people away at the gate.  The only reason anyone
would break into the building would be to get access to the
development labs, and those were sealed up with the company's own
top-of-the-line electronic defences.

It wasn't too surprising, then, that they paid no attention to the
teenaged boy biking past them, even though no kid his age had any
business in that neighborhood.  There weren't any schools nearby, and
even if any of the parents in the surrounding area were to let their
children lead anything but an absolutely sheltered life, they'd be
conveyed by limousine.  A bicycle was unimaginably low-class.

The scruffy-looking teenager came to a skidding stop next to an oak tree. 
He leaned his bicycle against the tree, not bothering to lock it up.
The boy adjusted his ripped bag on his back and the cap on his head
and studied the fence before him.  The barbed wire along the top didn't 
exactly look appealing, and the fence itself was probably pressure
sensitive, if not mildly electrified.  But he had to get in somehow.
He'd heard of Campbell's tricks, how he'd stall to keep people from
getting to him so he could win by default.  But there was no way in
hell Christian Wilcot was going to let some sleazy jerk like Campbell
get the best of him.

He looked up and smirked.

The best security measures in the world are only so good as the
weakest link in the chain.  All the gizmos and gadgets used to
tranform a simple wire fence into an inpenetrable barrier mean
nothing, if there happens to be something so simple as a tree branch
conveniently located nearby.

And there was, of course.

Chris grinned.  Players' Luck, he figured as he leaped up and grabbed
hold of a branch.  Pulling himself up, he carefully stood up and
walked out to the end of the branch.  Looking around to make sure no
one was watching, he dropped to the ground below silently.  He hopped
up to his feet and checked his watch.

Twenty minutes.   Plenty of time.

* * * * *

     High Stakes

Starring:  Fluttercat!

Chapter Fifteen:  Knock
    written by Ravi
   created by NeoVid

* * * * *

A southerly wind was blowing wet sea mist across the deck of the Fairy
Princess as the first mate lead the passenger toward the bow.  The
clipped footsteps behind him was the only indication that the man was
following him.  Aside from responding "Yes" when asked his name, he
hadn't said a single thing.

The first mate frowned as he gazed out over the waters.  The weather
had been just fine earlier in the day, and the skies had been clear
and cloud-free in every direction.  But the fog had rolled in
suddenly, and while that wasn't uncommon at sea, it felt eerie.

He shook it off.  He'd been at sea far too long to start imagining
things.  There were other things to worry about... like dealing with
the passengers who were expecting to dine with the Captain in an hour.
Who was this Japanese man and why was he so important that the Captain
would just cancel the Captain's Dinner?  He didn't look like an
executive.  He didn't even look like the son of an executive... he wasn't
very well-dressed

The first mate stopped in front of a door and gestured for his
companion to stop.  He rapped sharply upon the door.  

"What is it?" came a voice from inside.

"Captain," the first mate said, "Mr. Nagaoka is here to see you."  There
was a grunt from inside.  The first mate nodded to Jinsaku and stepped 
forward to hold open the door.  He gesture toward the open portal.  
"The Captain will see you," he told the passenger.

Mr. Nagaoka nodded back and stepped slowly into the dimly lit room.  He
turned around moved to close the door, but the first mate was still
standing in front of it.

"Is there anything else, sir?" the first mate asked.  "Then I'll be
off!"  He saluted and closed the door behind him.  As he walked away,
he wondered idly why the Japanese man had such a look of resignation on 
his face.

- = - 

The Skull was still out there.

(fear death hate pain. fear death. hate pain. hate fear.)

It was cold.  It was wet.  It was bitterly freezing.  And something on
Michael's arm was sticky.  But no matter how much he tried to wipe it
off, it just kept coming back.  And it itched.

(embrace fear?)

Michael was in the park now.  The back streets were okay but they
smelled funny.  And if It came back he'd be trapped there.  The
flowers were blooming now, so it smelled nice.  He could sit under the
pavilion roof and smell the flowers.  And It couldn't sneak up on him.

Michael frowned.  His arm was still itching.  He scratched at it more,
but all that did was make his fingers sticky, too.  Wiping his hand on
his torn-up shirt, he looked around him again.

(the skull is coming the skull is coming it is waiting just behind you
you cannot see where your eyes don't go the skull is coming it is here)

Michael tensed up and whirled around as quickly as he could manage.
Pain coursed its way up his nearly-useless left leg.  As Michael
looked down, his stomach dropped -- he was leaving a trail.  He peered
at the thin red line that zigged and zagged up the walkway.  He looked
back down and saw it ran all the way up to where he was standing.
Michael wanted to kick something, but his leg wouldn't move.  

He collapsed weakly.  He looked into the rain again, realizing the
rain was helping him by washing away the evidence.  He cheered
inwardly.

(i have you now i own you now i see you now i know your name MICHAEL)

Micheal fell limply backwards and stared at the ceiling.  He could almost
swear he could feel his face moving under his skin.  The Skull ... was
it his own?

He became aware of a tingle in his arm, a rough rhythmic scraping.
Michael looked down and groaned.  A mongrel cat had come begging for
food.  He wailed at it incoherently, hoping it would understand that
he didn't have anything for it.  The cat looked up at him, and
suddenly he was very afraid. 

He scrabbled back, away from the orange tabby, ignoring the pain in
his palms and his legs and his back and his self.  The cat shook its
head, and Michael saw the thin gossamer wings rising up from its
shoulders.  The cat padded toward him, and he made the mistake of
kicking at it with his good leg.

The cat hissed loudly, leaping at him.  Michael screamed loudly, but
he couldn't move -- he'd looked into the creature's eyes and he was
frozen, immobilized.  The cat climbed into his lap and resumed lapping
at his arm, cleaning it of the dirt and blood that had caked on.

Michael screamed again as a sharp pain grabbed his attention.  Swaying back
and forth lightly, he looked down to see the cat chewing at his arm.
He tittered.  Looking around, he began to laugh maniacally, this time
led in giggling by the rational side of his mind.  Here he was,
running from a giant floating skull... and he was going to be eaten
to death by a flying kitty cat.  He wished there were someone else
around.  Not to rescue him, but just to laugh with him at the
absurdity of his situation.

"Good kitty," he cooed, looking down at his devourer.  He fought the
urge to pet the cat with his other hand; he needed that to keep
himself propped up.  Otherwise, he couldn't watch.  "What's wrong?" he
asked, when the cat stopped.

The cat looked up at him, blood staining its maw.  It turned its head
to the side and spit out a thin yet nasty-looking sliver of broken
glass.  It licked his arm again and the pain stopped.

"You *are* a good kitty?  Yes, you are!" Micheal said.

The cat hopped off his lap and began scratching at his pant leg.
Presently, he felt pain flare up again, somewhere above his knee.
Michael began to giggle again, and leaned back to stare at the
ceiling.  No, the skull wouldn't hurt him.  The skull was gone, and
the nice, pretty kitty was here to protect him.

A shadow fell upon his face.  He turned his eyes upward to see a
glowing phantasmic set of armor towering over him, nearly to the roof
of the picnic shelter.

Michael screamed.

- = -

Jinsaku looked around the room cautiously.  It was hard to see in the low
light.  There was a large desk facing him, with a single desklamp providing
all the light he had to see with.  From what he could see, the room was
very well-decorated, like much of the rest of the boat.  

A man was sitting behind the desk -- apparently the captain of the cruise
ship.  Jinsaku stepped slowly forward until he was in the center of the
office.  He could feel the captain's eyes upon him.  He coughed lightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the captain spoke.  The lights in the ceiling flared to
life.  Jinsaku tensed as he was suddenly blinded by the glare.  "I needed
to think a little," the captain explained, "but I forgot that I had the
lights off."  

Jinsaku blinked a couple of times until he could see clearly.  Jinsaku 
studied at the man sitting at the far end of the table.  The man looked 
to be in his seventies, but there was nothing frail or decrepit about him.  
He was strong and alert, and though his hair was pure white, it was thick 
and full.  He had blue eyes, so alive and vibrant that they seemed to see 
straight through Jinsaku, all the way to his soul.

"Captain Va- Vavri--" Jinsaku started, struggling to try to say the
captain's name before he was interrupted.

"Just call me Eric," the captain said, finally rising to his feet.  He
gestured to the high-backed chair opposite him.  "Please, have a seat."

Jinsaku nodded and did so.  "Call me Jinsaku," he offered, smiling
politely.  He flinched inwardly when Eric failed to smile in turn, but
instead just kept watching him.  "Is... something wrong?" Jinsaku asked, a
slight tinge of worry in his voice.

Eric shook his head.  "Well, yes, but it's nothing that can be helped."  He
pushed a snifter forward and reached for a brandy decanter.  

"No thanks," Jinsaku protesting, shaking his hands.

"Join me in a drink."  It was not a request.  The captain raised his glass 
and sipped at it.  Shrugging, Jinsaku acquiesced and took a draught from 
his own glass.

Eric finally smiled, albeit thinly.  "I'm sorry for the minor runaround," 
he said.  "But given the lack of private areas on this ship, having you
brought to me was the best way to make sure that we're not bothered."

Jinsaku nodded slowly.  "Makes sense."

"I was surprised, you know, when the challenge was made.  This is the first
match I've had in going on twenty years."

Jinsaku nearly dropped his glass.  Whistling low, he set the snifter down
on the desktop.  "I've never heard of anyone who was in the Game that
long."

"The Game?" Eric said, chuckling bitterly.  "You know, I've always hated that
name, but that's what it's called.  You'd think it was some childish
diversion, played for entertainment.  Not for your life."

Jinsaku nodded, not sure how to respond.  To fill the silence, he quickly
reached for his glass and raised it to his lips.  He sipped at the brandy 
slowly, hoping the captain would continue.  Instead, it looked as though
Eric was watching him, waiting for him to speak first.  

Jinsaku swallowed.  "How... how does it end?  When does it end?" he asked,
his throat suddenly very dry.  He looked into his glass, but it was already
empty.  "What happens when someone... wins?"

"You don't *win* the Game, son," Eric told him.  "You survive it."  He
sighed loudly.  "And sometimes, it can't even be called that."  The captain
leaned over and opened a drawer of his desk.  He pulled out a cloth-wrapped
bundle and set it in the middle of the table before him.  "I wasn't sure
what to make of you, when I felt your presence.  You might have been
actively seeking me out, but I can see from the look in your eyes that you
were just trying to get away, as well."

"I... am tired of it all.  No enemies, no battles.  It was like a dream."

Eric smiled.  "That's why I'm here.  I've been captain of this vessel for
twenty-five years, and I've been a Player for about twenty-five before
that.  The first five years, it's all fresh and new.  You still have fun,
if you're lucky enough to keep winning."  He shrugged and poured another
glass of brandy.  "The Game is a cycle.  It starts and it runs for about
ten years.  Then, it just stops.  It sleeps and festers, and without
warning, newcomers around the world will start turning up packets of Cards,
and it will begin anew.  I've lived through two Games.  This is my third.
I thought I could escape it if I were always at sea, but apparently I was
wrong."

"It... doesn't end?" Jinsaku murmered.

Eric lifted one flap of cloth over the bundle, revealing a stack of cards.
Setting them to the side, he turned over another flap and pulled out a
second stack.

"No, it doesn't."

- = - 

Campbell looked up with a scowl as the door to his office opened.  He
glared at the intruding teenager, who strode forward into the room,
tracking mud across the carpet.  "How did you get in here?" he demanded.

Chris sat in the chair across from Campbell and kicked his feet up on the
desk.  "I know you, old man.  I know your tricks, ya know?"  He shook his
head and laughed.  "I let myself in."

Campbell swore silently and made a mental note to have someone fired.  He
placed both his hands on his desk and stood up.

"Dude, what is *up* with your hand?" Chris asked.  He winced in disgust as
he stared at all that was left of the hand that Shade had claimed.

"That is none of your concern, you little shit.  Now let's get this over
with.  I have some important business that needs to get done before
tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me.  Let's rock."

- = - 

Jinsaku instinctively reached out for one of the stacks of cards.  There
were so many of them, more than he'd ever seen held by a single Player.
There were probably more than he'd ever seen altogether.  As he picked up a
stack, he suddenly realized he was handling Eric's cards without
permission.  He looked up to see Eric nodding.

Jinsaku's eyes widened in shock as he he looked through the smaller deck of
cards.  Each was the portrait of a person, all varying in age from the very
young to the very old.  "These are... but... these...  There have to be..."

"Twenty-three."  Eric was studying him with mournful eyes.  "Twenty-three
Players, and I remember every single one of them, every night I dream.  
This one?" he said, holding out a card depicting an old black man.  "This 
was Lyle.  He was never meant to be a Player.  He found his cards in a box 
of Crackerjacks that he was sharing with his grandson.  This?  This was 
Steven.  He was a gunnery sargeant in Korea."  He stopped at one card and 
a single tear rolled down his face.  He held it up to Jinsaku.  "This is 
Amalia.  She was my fiancee."

"I'm sorry."  Jinsaku didn't know what more he could say.

"Not as sorry as I am."

"So now we fight?" Jinsaku asked, looking in dread at the tall stack of
Minion cards that Eric possessed.

"No, we don't."  He pushed the stack of minion cards across the table.
"Pick one."

"What?"

"Pick a card.  Any card."

"I don't understand," Jinsaku protested.

"I will not fight you.  I refuse to fight you.  But you aren't going to be
retiring from the game any time soon."  He picked up the deck and began
thumbing through them.  "You may as well get a Minion you can use."  He
handed the cards to Jinsaku, pressing them into his hand.

Jinsaku flipped through them, eventually pulling one at random.  He studied
it before handing it and the deck to Eric.  Eric nodded and glanced at the
card.   "Ah, Sphenodont.  I won't miss him one damn bit."

He stood up, steadying himself against his desk with his hands.  "Let's get
this over with, shall we?"

Jinsaku nodded slowly and pulled out his own deck of cards.  Shade leapt
immediately into his hand, but he forced him back into the middle of the
deck.  His hands were shaking, but he managed to draw out Carapace.  
"Okay.  I'm ready."

Eric nodded.  "Sphenodont, come forward."  There was a flash, and before
Jinsaku stood a large reptilian Minion, nearly fifteen feet from nose to 
tail.  It was covered in purple and green scales and had a sharp ridge of
spines running along its back.  The large lizard-like creature flicked out
its forked tongue, tasting the air.  It turned to study Jinsaku.  Jinsaku
shivered as Sphenodont level all three of its eyes at him, watching him
hungrily.

Jinsaku held out his own card. Gulping for air, he found his voice.  
"Ca- Carapace?"  His card glowed and the insectoid Minion was before him, 
buzzing excitedly. He glared at the other Minion, even though Sphenodont 
towered over him.

Eric spoke to his Minion.  "Sphenodont?  Do *not* fight back."  Sphenodont
turned to Eric with a look of profound sadness on his face, but Eric had
already turned to face the wall.   "Go ahead.  I don't want to watch."

Jinsaku nodded.  "Carapace, go to it."  The blue and red Minion almost
seemed to grin at at the taller one.  Carapace spread his outer wings 
wide and the humming of his inner wings picked up in pitch.  He flew at
Sphenodont, lightning and flame dancing merrily.

It was over shortly.  Jinsaku studied the 550/1800 Earth card in his hands.  
He looked up at Eric, who was back at his desk, lighting a pipe.  Jinsaku 
noticed that Eric was fighting to hold the pipe steady.

"So... now what?" Jinsaku asked.

"We will arrive in Seattle in the morning.  At that time, Mister Nagaoka, 
you will leave this vessel, and you will never return.  You will tell all 
of your friends to never charter passage on my vessel.  Do you understand?"

Jinsaku nodded slowly.  "I understand."

He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a revolver.  Never breaking
eye contact with Jinsaku, he set it down on the middle of the desk.  "And
if I ever see you again, I will kill you and dump you into the ocean, and
not feel one damn bit of guilt."

- = -

Campbell looked at the strange card in his good hand.  Plasmatic had
destroyed the boy's puny minion, as Campbell had known he would.  But the
odd occurance was that the boy had disappeared in a flash, only to be
replaced by this strange card.

Campbell studied the card carefully.  It was titled "CHRISTIAN," and
featured a stylized image of the teenager, smirking out of the card as he
held a pair of flaming daggers in his hands.

"Fascinating," Campbell said, smiling widely.  He slipped the card into his
deck, right behind Plasmatic.  "Two for one, is it?"

He sat back down and finished writing out the contract he'd been drafting.
Pushing the papers away from him, he pulled the cards out again.
"Fascinating, indeed.  I do believe this warrants further investigation."

FIN (chapter 15)

- = - 
AUTHOR'S NOTES
[or, In Which Ravi Adds an Author's Note]

Thanks to Ilmater for pointing out that I screwed up. ^_^;


Beware the Radish
http://www.mit.edu/~johne/btr/
8/13/00