Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

Chapter 294

"Sara, I need to talk to Tyler." I barreled down I-20, swerving around traffic, pushing eighty-five, Buzzcut humming to himself in the passenger seat.

"Uh. Can I ask what this is regarding, Matt?" Sara said, her voice carrying the typical tinny undertone that coincided with a voice call.

"Are you—does he have you screening his calls like a fucking secretary?" As usual for fucking I-20, two cars were turtle crawling the far left lanes, cruising well under the speed limit. I dropped back, crossing over to the third and gunned it.

The text fired back in the blink of an eye, distracting me momentarily until I realized how long Sara had been silent.

I cleared my throat, switching the blinker for another lane change. "Maybe that was out of pocket. But what's the deal? He's dodging calls, stonewalling Nick—I don't get it. We're in a strong position right now, but there's no guarantee it'll last if we don't push the advantage."

There was a cutoff noise as Sara started to speak and stopped, then tried again. "Uh. There's a bit of organizational drag happening. Too many chefs in the kitchen."

"Pertaining to what?"

A chill cut through me. If there was some sort of high-level disagreement on how to approach the tower, that was one thing. But this didn't sound like that. This sounded more like the Adventurer's Guild getting cold feet.

"Define proceed," I asked flatly.

"There's been a lot of questions regarding the best course of action for everyone," Sara answered.

"Then explain it to me, because I'm not getting it." I punched the horn and held it, noise blaring at an oncoming wall of cars until the one driver capable of tying his shoes without drooling picked the pace up enough to form a hole. "We take the tower, solidify our alliance with the Order, and potentially stop the transposition events for good. Bearing in mind the last transposition wiped out almost a hundred thousand people, the alternative is what—sitting around with our dicks in our hands?"

"The alliance will hold," Sara argued. "The Order confirmed it, in writing. They'll support us during this event and any that might follow so long as we don't undermine them and continue to work towards clearing the tower."

And you think they'll fucking stick to that after everything goes to hell?

Another text came through, interrupting me before I could retort.

I complied, sending back as much information on the castle as I could recall, hoping he'd connect the dots and latch onto it.

"God, like today hasn't been stressful enough," Sara muttered, voice call barely picking her up. Then, louder: "Matt, I'm not saying we're throwing in the towel. We're not. There are already plans in-place to tackle the next floor at dawn tomorrow. But try to put yourself in Tyler's shoes here. Just a bit."

"The man has giant feet, Sara. Do me a favor and help bridge the gap."

Pressed as I was, I nearly jumped on it. Started forming a message in the quick-response screen without even double-checking the body of text. My own instincts stopped me a split second before could start screaming about a trap, and I expanded the screen, revealing a second series of texts between Matt and Myrddin.

Shit. Almost missed it.

I glanced at the console clock on the dash, setting a mental six-minute delay before Matt could respond to Miles. Wasn't sure if Miles would actually seize on the similar, near-instant responses as a potential connection, but I wasn't willing to risk it.

Sara was already talking, but I only caught half of it. "...has to worry about. He also has to worry about the city at large. If we run ourselves ragged, take heavy casualties and expend resources trying to climb the tower, fail because we run up against something impossible, or end up facing the sort of threat we simply can't handle in the remaining time, we're in serious trouble."

The vein stood out on my forehead. "And if we actually work together through joint effort now, and stop the events, it won't matter how many resources we expend."

"You're right," Sara admitted. She sounded exhausted and frustrated, and not necessarily with me. "That's why we're hitting the tower at dawn tomorrow, as scheduled. Believe me, Tyler wants this done just as badly as you do. Assuming we don't hit any serious snags like the last floor and can strategically push through the rest of the climb, there's nothing to worry about."

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Translation: One more fuckup and we run away to bide our time with our heads between our legs.

"Great," I bit off a longer, more scathing retort. "Guess we'll get started then."

"Guess so." Sara paused, whispering to someone near her for a few seconds before she spoke. "Iris doing better?"

"Yeah."

"Glad to hear it. Hope she's getting all the rest and care she needs. She's a sweetheart."

"I'll let her know you asked. See you in the AM."

"Try to get some rest," Sara counseled, the line disconnecting moments later.

As much as I appreciated the thought, my concerns were more focused on Ellison than Iris right now. Just because my brother could usually take care of himself didn't mean this wasn't the one time he'd bitten off more than he could chew. According to him, he'd never made it through, so it was going to happen eventually. When I'd called Sara, I'd hoped to buy a few extra hours of progress. Only now, apparently, there was a possibility the Adventurer's Guild might pull support entirely.

They were making a lot of assumptions I couldn't get behind. Chief among them that there'd even been an Adventurer's Guild or Order of Parsae after the upcoming event. A strange assumption to make, probably rooted in how relatively relaxed things had been lately. Other than the necromancer attack on my region, which was shockingly ineffective in terms of casualties, everything had been quiet. They'd grown complacent, and as it always did, complacency led to inaction. As if they'd almost entirely forgotten how severely the first event had kicked their collective asses.

I exited the highway, pulling into a full parking lot beside the dive bar adjacent to the tower, glancing at the longer-than-usual cordoned line that led to the entrance. As tempting as it was to just say fuck-the-guild and go in, I'd already tried that with Nick's backing, and we'd gotten our asses handed to us.

No. We were here for another reason.

Beside me, Buzzcut's cheerful humming hitched before it disappeared entirely as I slipped the mask into place, getting ready to exit as I tied up my conversations with Miles.

I held my breath, waiting for him to bite. If I could get Miles on board, there was a chance. He had more experience organizing large groups for strategic purposes than anyone else in the dome, and more than that, was capable of doing so while navigating the more tenuous, political side of things. If anyone was capable of getting Tyler to take this more seriously, it was him.

The next message came in before I could answer. As usual, Miles was spot on.

So close. It was important that Miles didn't feel like I was pushing him into helping. The second he did, he'd suddenly come up with a half-dozen other, more important things to worry about. Bearing that in mind, I composed the next message carefully.

I held my breath.

I leaned my head back, letting the mask gnaw away the buzzing sensation of stress pressing down on my temples. Beside me, Buzzcut had picked up on my mood, growing more nervous by the second. "Maybe we should do this another day. Aaron's going to have a coronary when he realizes I'm alive, and it kinda sounds like there's already too much to manage."

No matter how frustrated I am, no matter how much I want to scream, none of that is Cameron's fault. He's ready for this. But he's reliant on me. If I lose my shit in front of him, he'll be rattled for weeks.

"Tell me your cover story again," I said, keeping my tone soft, instructional.

"Myrddin abducted me from my home," Buzzcut recited, expression cold, bordering on furious as he inhabited the lie. "Cut my finger off, interrogated me. Got a little rough, sometimes, nothing that topped the finger. Didn't really have to go that route. Bastard made me breathe something—a spell or potion, or something else before he started. After it took effect, things got hazy, difficult to focus. He kept asking the same question different ways. The same damn question, over and over again. Eventually, I felt compelled to answer—nothing that betrayed the order and violated the geas—but definitely information I wouldn't have volunteered otherwise. After a while he got bored and went missing for weeks. Showed up one day, said we were done, blindfolded me, threw me in the back of a vehicle. Drive was around twenty minutes, give or take. Didn't bother to take the cuffs or blindfold off when he kicked me out."

"You can visualize everything?" I checked.

"In detail."

"If you were imprisoned indoors all this time, why’s your skin tone darker than it was?"

Buzzcut shrugged. "There was a skylight. If I laid under it and kept my eyes shut, it almost felt like being outside again."

"Why didn't you use the skylight to escape?"

"Because it was a high ceiling for fuck's sake and he wasn't stupid enough to leave me somethin' to climb."

I paused long enough to give him an encouraging smile. "And how do you feel about Myrddin now?"

"Grateful he let me go." Buzzcut cracked his knuckles, a hint of his old mean-streak peeking through. "Genuinely, truly thankful. Because now, there's a second chance to tear his fucking throat out."

"Perfect."