Nicolai sat crossed legged in his room, waiting.

  His mind was empty of any thoughts. He was lightly merged with Threat Analysis and Cyberwarfare. He was halfway between himself and Zero-Twelve, and in this state he was aware of the darkness stretching from the cage and roving through him, and yet above it, able to control himself in spite of it.

  From the hole, something stirred.

  FREE ME…

  His eyes snapped open. On the ground before him rested the M99. It pulsed and writhed gently in the dim light. He could feel its hunger.

  He took it and it felt weightless, like a part of him. The Skin Suit he wore flexed, its artificial exo-muscles merging with his own through tight contact, becoming an extension of his body. With a thought, the visor of the Skin Suit’s helmet snapped over his face, and the suit sealed with a hiss of gas, compacting tighter over him.

  Sealed within the Skin Suit Nicolai felt somehow complete and perfect.

  Leaving his room he encountered the others, who were prepping for the next trade run. They had much to say but little of it was of interest. He was, as always, faintly surprised that he was still with them. Increasingly a feeling was growing within him that he didn’t need them. That perhaps he could simply kill all of the Chosen, and Paxolnaz, and the Centipedes, and everything else, by himself. Doing so would certainly be more enjoyable.

  No. He had to remember his limits. That was the dark talking, and perhaps something else.

  The only item that did draw his attention was Maxine’s work over the radio.

  ‘That’s two more groups today,’ she said, her eyes fairly glowing. ‘We’re up to thirteen groups—confirmed—in the coalition. That’s almost two hundred people, plus us!’

  Nicolai nodded, and got her to send him all the details via a datapacket. He was doing that more and more these days. It was much faster and more efficient than talking.

  That done he briefed Jo, telling her she would be leading the trade run. She was giving him a certain look while he talked to her, a look he’d seen a few times now—a hopeful look that said, don’t you have something else to say to me? He didn’t.

  He had intended to go on the trip himself, as he had gone on every prior trip, but hearing the call of the Unwinder had caused him to abort. However, he figured the others didn’t truly need him personally there anymore. Why should he go? To look after them? Unnecessary. He doubted Vikrum would have been able to setup another ambush so quickly, though recognised that it was a possibility. He had his radio in a small microphone equipped box he’d made, keyed to his Link, in his backpack. The radio itself was set to one of the less used channels, which the others would use to alert him if something went wrong.

  He pulled the M99’s strap tight to keep it pressed into his back, then he left and pushed rapidly through the castle, heading to the Upper Jungle.

  ###

  Upon arriving Nicolai didn’t go to the Kill Me tower. Instead he went to the rise of the castle on one side of the Upper Jungle, not too far from the Kill Me tower. It was the area he had led the last two Level 1 Cyborgs toward. There he scaled a building, climbing until he stood on one of the highest points in the whole castle, slightly above the top of the Kill Me Tower.

  He loosened the M99’s strap and slung it around his body, took it and set it on the ground before him.

  Then he removed his pack and reached inside. He pulled free a bulky scope which was equipped with automatic wind and range finder, a large tripod, and a solid attachment piece.

  He didn’t use the tripod because he managed to find a place with a guardwall that was just the right size and shape. He set the attachment piece—which was mostly two wide pieces of metal, with two manual screw-bits allowing it to be set around something and tightened to cling in place—onto the wall. He screwed it tight into position.

  That done, he attached the front of the M99 to the attachment piece, using a heavy duty metal connector system—including an orbital socket for easy maneuvering—he’d installed in it earlier. Once screwed and clamped he was able to leave the gun in place, attached at one spot to the wall, and despite its significant weight it did not move.

  Attached to the wall like this, the recoil of its shots would not be felt by him, but by the wall. This was an important step, because he felt that the more shots he could fire on target, in a shorter amount of time, the better.

  Would one be enough? Not quite. Not with that red shield. Two might do it. Three would be ideal but he wasn’t sure he could manage that before the vines swarmed the Angel.

  Nicolai settled into position, on one knee behind the rifle. He didn’t need to check it was fully loaded and operational because he’d done so before leaving, but he checked regardless.

  He was in no rush. Paxolnaz was typically gone for forty to fifty minutes, when the Unwinder called. He had plenty of time.

  He used the button on the attachment pieces orbital joint to allow the rifle to move, and activated the scopes automatic windage and rangefinding capabilities. He sighted through it, using his bionic eye, and the centre of the Kill Me tower’s roof came into view. It was a seething ocean of slow-moving black vines, and in the very middle of them they clumped around a shape. The Angel.

  Nicolai settled everything with exacting focus and slow patience, going through the process of adjusting the rifle for windage and range, and then taking into account how the recoil would change its positioning and how he would need to reposition it for the second and third shots. Aiming would have done the same job in a fraction of the time, but without the Module he was left to use the scope’s software, a far inferior version that required some calibration.

  Once done, Nicolai ended up as a kind of statue atop the roof. Utterly still but for the slow movement of his chest. One of his eyes was fixated to the Angel through the scope. The other observed the same area without the scope. With his bionic eye this dual-vision was quite easy to manage, as he was able to split some of the task to the Modules. Neither Threat Analysis nor Cyberwarfare were perfectly suited for this task, but they were better than nothing.

  Great clouds passed above, their slow shadows crawling over the world around him. The Skin Suit’s software spoke of coolness when the shadows swept over him, and warmth when the sun’s light shone down. Sealed within it, his body remained at a comfortable temperature.

  He remained unmoving, glued to the M99. This was not his first time waiting patiently behind a sniper’s scope. Far from it, and he doubted it would be his last. He found it calming. His mind was still and empty, his mental state closer to a spider waiting for the next meal to arrive than something human. Blue Lightning began to crawl over his body, something he activated purely for the slightly increased physical speed it gave him.

  In the undulations of the vines, there came moments. Just here and there, now and then. But they came. Moments where the Angel was less covered, moments where the vines between Nicolai’s distant vantage and his target slipped aside. Where, just for an instant, a clear passage ran between the barrel of his gun and the Angel. Even then, some vines still covered its form. Not a problem, Nicolai knew that it would take more than a few vines to stop the .50 BMG rounds the M99 fired.

  He waited for the perfect moment.

  And in due time, it arrived.

  A gap, a space, just as predicted, just as he’d been waiting for. It winked at him through the writhing vines, calling to him, telling him that now was the moment.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Nicolai squeezed the trigger and the M99 erupted, a round slicing through the air. His hands moved in a blur, cloaked by lightning as he racked the bolt, slammed a fresh round in and cranked it. He squeezed the trigger and his hands danced again. A red shield broke. Golden blood and the black sap of the vines was distantly visible, spraying the air, then the vines were surging and they pressed over and swallowed and surrounded the form of the Angel. His last shot came, arriving as the vines were already in place, blocking it.

  But that shot was proven unnecessary. The first two had done the job. The tingle of his Mark told so, though he would’ve known regardless.

  When the Angel died he felt it. Possibly the most powerful ripple he’d ever detected had rolled out like a wave, crashing over and through him. It felt of… Release. Joy. Freedom. He glanced at his Mark.

  Quest Complete: Caged Butterfly

  Then something was coming straight for him. Nicolai moved backwards, away from the M99, taking his assault rifle into his hands.

  But there was nothing physical. Instead, a spectre of golden light floated before him. The Angel, which in spirit was whole and unharmed. The man’s eyes shimmered and a smile danced over his face.

  You have helped me, and as promised, I will repay you. You chose your time wisely; the Demon is not near.

  Here is its plan: it seeks to change you enough so that you are no longer the same as you are now; to make you into a different being. It aims to accomplish this by corrupting you, via your Black Gift, with Outside influences. Turning you into some kind of Mutant. Once it succeeds, the Contract you made with it will no longer apply. It will be able to act directly and possess you.

  ‘How can I survive?’ Nicolai asked.

  All you need to do is last long enough. The Demon is under a time limit. Inevitably its Master, the shred of the Unwinder kept in this place, will gain freedom. If Paxolnaz does not have a Skin to hide in at that time, it will have no choice but to leave. If you can only avoid falling to your Gift and mutating for long enough, you will prove victorious.

  Nicolai frowned. ‘But it has to know that. It’s planning something. Recently it made a requirement in our Contract, that I must find a sword hidden in this place. A Demonic Artifact. It has put pressure on me with this Soul Rot. In due time I may be forced to go and get the Blade. What then?’

  It floated around him. If you do Mutate, then my blood might aid you. You would need a Symbiote of change, too, which will not be easy to find. My blood will pool where I died, and remain. The Centipedes and other creatures will not touch it, though they may guard it.

  To help you with this I will give you a gift. A small piece of myself. I suspect you will be unable to avoid being twisted and mutated. But you need not turn into something of the Outside. Through the work of my blood and a Symbiote of Change, you may become an Angel, a servant of Heaven. In such a form you would be immune to Paxolnaz’s designs. It could do very little to you. You would also be rescued from the Great Game.

  You will need a plan, one that the Demon cannot see… the timing for all of this must be very precise. Once you transform you will no longer wish for the change, you would have to get here as the change is occurring. As to how you might hide your plans… you seem to have already worked it out, but in case you weren’t sure, I can confirm it for you. There are thinking-stones in your head. Silicon without a Soul. Neither I nor the Demon can see what is being thought within these.

  Nicolai frowned. ‘But if I become this… Angelic being, then I still will not be myself. Is this not the case? I wish to remain myself, and I certainly don’t wish to be bound to serve Heaven. I want to retain my freedom.’

  You would become a better version of yourself. I see the Mask you wear. You are trying to become more than you were, are you not? This would only aid that process. You would be what you wish to be!

  Nicolai’s eyes narrowed, and the shadows crawled around the Angel, hissing and spitting with rage, one which—to the dismay of his Mask—he mirrored.

  The Angel misunderstood him. His attempts to be more human were only one part of his goals, and not even one of the more important drives within him. Above all, he wished to maintain himself. To work out who he truly was and who he truly wanted to be. The Mask was one element of that because it allowed him to explore other ways of being, so he could better work out who he wished to be. But, in truth, he considered the Thrill and the Darkness as equally important. The shadows swayed with satisfaction as they felt him admit this.

  He did not wish for the Darkness to overwhelm him. But nor did he wish the Mask to do the same, and certainly he did not want to be transformed into some strange new being, Angelic or otherwise. Ultimately, he was the one who must remain in control, and they were merely tools or eccentricies he allowed, because he felt they could be of use.

  Beyond that, he did not in fact have any desire to be “rescued” from the Great Game. The Great Game was dangerous and difficult, full of great risk, yes… but it was also an opportunity, he had seen that repeated numerous times. An opportunity to gain great power while maintaining his agency. That was what he wanted, not to give up and flee to become a slave of Heaven.

  The Angel looked away from him. I must leave now, farewell, human.

  ‘Wait! What do you know of the Lizard? This is the one item the Demon holds over me. I have to find out where he is.’

  The Lizard? The Angel’s eyes glittered. I see. Yes, much becomes clear now. I am afraid I cannot provide any information on him or his location. But, it is doubly important that you must outwit the Demon, and gain the information of the Lizard’s location. If Paxolnaz has agreed by Contract to share this information, it will not be able to change that. Keep in mind, whatever methods it has to alter the Contract, they will be limited. Even it is bound by the rules of this reality.

  It looked away from him again. I am sorry. I must go… The Angel paused. Here. This will help you. It extended a finger toward him, a finger that shimmered with light, and before Nicolai could react something launched from the finger and into his body, passing through his Skin Suit.

  With a single beat of its phantom wings, the Angel disappeared in a flash of golden light.

  Worm! cried Cyberwarfare within Nicolai, lunging towards a faint golden spark that had joined his Soul.

  No, leave it, Nicolai told the overly fervid Module. This one may be of use to us. They observed the golden spark together as it floated through his Soul, moving towards his forehead where it settled. From it, he felt a dim kind of awareness, a promise. At the proper time, I will do what I can… came a faint echo of the Angel’s voice.

  Nicolai wasn’t entirely pleased by this new addition. It reminded him and Cyberwarfare both of the thing Paxolnaz had sneakily put inside of him. However, where that had come by stealth, this one had been given to him openly. Though he was—by very nature—incapable of trusting the Angel, he could see clearly that it was aligned against the Demon.

  Helping him would hinder the Demon. The only worry is that helping me would not be the only way to hinder the Demon. What if the Angel simply had him killed? Then, presumably, Paxolnaz would not be able to “Skin” him. This would be much simpler, and would mean the Angel did not have to rely on him outwitting the Demon.

  But Nicolai did not think that likely. No. The Angel wished to gain an ally, to further tie him to the purposes of its faction, whatever that was. This was why it wished him to be mutated, so that he might then perform the energy flip and become an Angel.

  These beings, strangers from other realities, were both eager to choose his future for him. Paxolnaz wished to seize control of his body. The Angel, to turn him into a being like itself, a servant of Heaven.

  Neither appealed. All of these pieces of me are merely that. Pieces. I am the true Nicolai. He wished to grow and change at his own rate and under his own will, not in a sudden step resulting from the machinations of another.

  But he knew that the dark was currently making significant progress. It was close below and always writhing, looking to seize control. He was remaining in control mostly due to managing the find the Zero-Twelve state when it was peaking. That, and the aid of the Mask. If it did seize complete control… he lost.

  Threat Analysis chose this moment to speak up. It reminded him that if the future held grim possibilities then one should never run from them. One had to recognise that they might occur—and plan for them.

  If he were to lose, then at that point, what would he rather? To be Skinned by Paxolnaz, or to become something else, an Angel?

  Being taken and used by Paxolnaz was by far the worst option, a total loss. Becoming an Angel… at least he would still be partly himself. Even so, he loathed the idea.

  His mouth twisted in sudden disgust. No. There is only one way. I remain myself, or I die. For what is the point in continuing if I am no longer myself? So far as he was concerned, it was the same as dying.

  Nicolai stared aimlessly ahead. In his mind, every detail he had learned of this world, of Soul and Oma, Symbiotes and Artifacts, Angels and Demons, all of it floated through his mind. In a near-perfect merging with Threat Analysis and Cyberwarfare, Nicolai parsed it. He even allowed strands of the dark, a flare of the thrill, and a piece of the Mark, to take part in this. He avoided the parts of the darkness that felt alien, like new additions, for he knew they were no true part of himself.

  Everything within him came together and considered.

  Soon Paxolnaz would return. Doubtless the Demon would be unhappy. It would watch him closer than ever, attempting to dig out his plan. He needed to work out what to do before it came, and then sink that information deep in his mind; keep it out of his consciousness.

  The Angel had mentioned stones in his mind. That could only be the implants; which indeed were largely made of silicone. Based on what it had said, if he didn’t merge his Soul into these implants, they would remain outside of the Demon’s view. He had anticipated this already, and the implants remained outside of his Soul. One unexpected benefit of the Soul Rot was that his Soul was not automatically pushing into these empty areas, as it would normally. It was too busy fighting off the rot.

  A plan was coalescing in his mind, stored in the implants.

  He wasn’t sure how, not yet, but he was beginning to feel a way. A way to escape the machinations of the Demon, and the Angel, and everything else. A way to remain himself. A way to take control of the Dark, a way to further his drive to master the Zero-Twelve state, a way to move on from this place with a clear mind and his agency intact. A way to become as powerful and capable as possible, as quickly as possible.

  A smile slithered over his face. Optimal.