04 The Golden Arcade 3

 

They'd arranged to play Call of War earlier in the week. It had become a regular event. Though recently, since Dad’s funeral, Bart had been harder to pin down. Even today, he had almost cancelled. His hatred and, frankly, his on-line stalking of Julia, his anger at death, fucking arbitrary, fucking pointless fucking death, the obsessive research, surreptitious setting up of Crowe & Son Investigations. All of these things had put a squeeze on his video game time. And now, the new client, the first client, Lori Cole, and the wayward step-son, Zack Richards. It made the whole video game thing feel pretty lame. But, now, his friends sitting around, with Doritos, dips and cans of Coke, he was kind of glad that he hadn't. They were good friends, Noah, Sophie and Connor. They’d stuck by him. Didn’t make it all about themselves. Noah was on the sofa, tapping the controls, dyed black hair flopping over his nose. He was being blasted by enemy fire from a nearby second storey window. 

 

'This dude is hammering me! Motherf-'

 

Bart didn't say anything, focused on the cables. There was something about setting this stuff up. It didn't seem to matter how many times he did it, he always kind of forgot, and had to learn it anew. But still, he was pretty sure he had it, now. He  pushed the cable into the port and fired it up. He was ready to go. Walking around him Sophie bent down and rubbed his hair like a mop.

 

'Well done Barty Boi! Mummy's so proud of you!'

 

Connor shot her a look.

 

'Sorry, Bart.'

 

Sophie’s nickname for Bart - Boi - started as teasing him about Julia who called him Boo. Bart looked up and grinned and it was only a little bit forced.

 

'Look, this is really interesting and all that. Let's talk about it over pizza but...' Noah was being taken down by the same sniper that seemed to get him every bloody time... 'shit I've got bad guys to kill and, honestly, I don't want do it all on my bloody own. Play the damned game, Bro!'

 

With headsets on, the four friends joined the battle. It was an attack on a church in something that resembled French countryside, drystone walls, timber-framed barns and outhouses. The four friends began in an attack group of about ten. And Bart knew a few of the players from other games, and though they all had their headsets on, really it was much better to talk amongst themselves, to real friends, there, in the room.

 

'Meet at the white barn,' Connor said and he did the wink. The one he knew was charming. The one that melted girls hearts.

 

He ran across the long green grass, leapt over walls, bustled down winding dirt paths, all at a speed amped just beyond reality, enemy tracers skeined above them. Each character was marked, but with the uniforms on it was hard to keep track. A biplane buzzed overhead, no shooting yet, no bombs, but maybe later. 

 

They approached a good-sized flinted farmhouse and outbuildings. They burst through the gate and all Hell broke loose. There was a white barn across the courtyard,  but who knew what would happen if they tried to reach it. Bart stopped close against the wall of the house. Hoped that no-one could see him from the upstairs windows. He could  see the tag of Connor's avatar moving around the outside wall. He was taking a chance, betting that the enemy had all charged into the fray of the farmhouse. A tank drove past, one of those tin cans shaped like a diamond. The ones you got in The Great War. But it was green, friendly, so that at least reduced the risk. Enemy soldiers were streaming through the courtyard now, greens and blues in equal numbers. The names on their luminous tags were almost indistinguishable. Identity lost in the superhuman speed of virtual combat. And he had to move too. If he stayed static, some psycho twelve year old would bundle around the corner and spray him with sub-machine gun fire without a second thought.

 

'Dude. I'm going to run across to the barn. Can you cover me Bart?'

 

'Where are you?' 

 

'Right behind you, Dummy.'

 

Noah was always asking for cover. Too many films. Inglorious Bastards. Apocalypse Now. Fury. Bart let him pass, and Noah's avatar went charging across the farmyard, and Bart did his best to shoot at any blues that came near with limited success. Bart thought the whole idea of cover was flawed. With nothing to lose and  everything to win, and armies with populated entirely by kids and the occasional weird adult, things were pretty gung-ho, and the game was designed to encourage that. Lots of shots, lots  of explosions, combat in the open. Unrestricted confrontation. 

 

Noah had made it. His avatar turned.

 

'Go Bart! Run across. I'll try not to shoot you!'

 

'If you get me killed I'll hit you for real.' 

 

Bart ran out from cover. Just as he emerged, a Blue  to his right, running at him. His screen went red. He'd been hit, but momentum and his superhuman virtual constitution pulled him through and the two enemies passed each other like cars nudging at a crossroads. 

 

'Ouch!' said Noah. 'Sorry! Missed that one.'

 

Bart just kept running. He fired at the blues he saw, hitting a few, missing most. And Noah did the same. The  cat’s cradle of tracers streaking the endless stream of players on both sides made the whole thing feel pretty chaotic, pretty arbitrary. Virtual life. Virtual death. He bumped into an enemy soldier, neither expecting the collision. There wasn't even time for either to react before the motion algorithms freed them and they both continued untouched on their separate paths.

 

With just the one hit, he reached the barn. He bumped into Noah's avatar and then bounced around the side of the building. With his momentum he continued to the back wall of the barn, and looked around the corner. There was a wide, wooden double door. Easy to enter but difficult to defend unless you could close it somehow. But the four of them, if they could all get in it could make a pretty solid little fortress. There were loads blues and loads of greens around though, and he'd not been quick. There would be someone, at least someone, inside that thing already, maybe waiting for a mug like him to show his face. But whatever. He had nothing to lose and there was nothing at stake, not really. He didn't even know why he played these war-games anyway. There was no cause, no right or wrong. It was just competition, a kill-fest, puppies play-fighting in a pen.

 

'Wait, I'll cover you, Dude,' said Noah. 'Oh you –'

 

Bart had already left running for the door of the barn. He was firing when he entered the barn but there was nothing. No-one. It was a relief and an anti-climax. Then his screen flashed red. A hit. A blue with the same idea? Or a blue that had spotted him and pursued? He span and saw a blue coming straight at him, then buckling and convulsing, collapsing, dead – shot repeatedly by a Green with a machine gun who had just appeared at the door.

 

'So, I think I just saved your ass,' Noah said, flicking his long black hair.

 

Noah had appeared in the nick of time. But then his avatar too, buckled and convulsed as a second Blue opened fire. Then that Blue too was hit. Rifle fire from the shadows. Bart joined in to finish the job until the two Blues lay motionless on the ground, their redundant bodies littering the floor of the barn until the game mechanisms would magically clear them away. A Green emerged from the shadowy corner of the barn.

 

'I guess I saved both you asses then.' Sophie said. 'Listen. There's two ladders to the loft. Maybe one but I think two shooters up there.'

 

'All right guys,' said Noah. 'The openings up there look right out across the courtyard. We get up there we're made for the battle. So if they're Greens up there we join them and if they're Blues, we clear them out. Go!'

 

Sophie made her way to the small ladder in the corner. 

 

'So I guess that's you and me up here,' said Noah. 'You go first Bro.'

 

Bart climbed the wide ladder quickly. He leapt up into to the loft. Sophie had been right. Two Blues. Both were too busy slaughtering the Greens in the courtyard to check the ladders. So he had one free shot. He fired on one, the closest. He missed first shot, but had time to fire again and scored a hit before the Blue turned to face him. The other Blue was holding a machine gun. Noah opened fire from the the ladder, his figure only half visible and took the blue out, and Sophie arriving from the other end of the barn took out the other - but not before Bart had taken another hit. He was close to death now. But they had secured the barn.

 

‘Me and Soph will take the guns, Bro. You guard the barn, okay.’

 

Both now holding machine guns, Sophie and Noah fired from the openings, taking out the blues in the courtyard below. Pretty soon the courtyard was cleared, other players realising that to cross it led to instant death. So Noah began to fire off pot-shots at the windows of other buildings where he thought Blues might be hiding.

 

'Where are you Connor?' Noah asked, revelling in the confidence of his position.

 

'Nearly with you,' Connor replied. 'Just got a little held up.'

 

'Grenade that tank, Soph,' Bart said. 

 

The blue tank rattled past and all three hurled their grenades. Definite impact, but not seeming to affect the tank which just rolled on regardless.

 

‘Ah shit. It can’t have much left,’ said Connor.

 

'Keep the front covered, Mate. I'm coming in the back,' said Connor.

 

Not a lot seemed to be going on at the front now. Even the tank was staying away, and the foot soldiers had all found cubby holes in buildings that they didn't want to give up. There were more biplanes overhead now, which was a worry since they could drop pretty powerful bombs inflict damage, even in their hiding place.

 

'Do you think we should go out there?' Bart said. 'Take down that tank or something?'

 

'No way,' Noah said. 'That tank'll be the first thing those planes go for, and anyway, everyone else is holed up too, now. We step out there we're dead. And jeez Bro, what are you, anyway? Fifteen percent? You’re a dead man walking.'

 

'He's right,' said Sophie. 'Don't get impatient Barty Boi. Sometimes you just got to sit tight for the win.'

 

Then there was gunfire. Rapid gunfire, near and loud. Sophie's screen flashed red and then faded. Noah turned just in time to see the Blue with a heavy machine gun firing at him point blank, his own screen going red and fading quickly. Then the Blue was standing over Bart. It put the Machine gun away and switched to a  pistol.

 

'See ya Bart,' 

 

It was Connor. Bart thought about shooting him but at fifteen percent, what was the point. He waited. Connor took his time raised the pistol until the cross-hairs were centred on Bart's head and fired a single shot. Bart's screen went red and faded to black.

 

‘Dead man walking,’ Connor said and he turned around and grinned. His wide smile. His perfect teeth.

 

Noah stood up. For a moment he didn’t move. Then he wheeled round and threw his controller at Connor. Threw it at him really hard.

 

'You're a fucking dick, Connor!' 

 

He left the room. Slammed the door.

 

'Oh my God, are you still playing?' Sophie asked.

 

'Yeah,' said Connor. 'Erm... I'm not dead.'

 

Sophie pulled the power cable from the back of his console.

 

'Better?'

 

Connor turned and smiled at the two of them. It was a genuine smile. Mischievous but with genuine affection. He laughed.

 

'It's just a game, Soph.'

 

Sophie gasped and stood up in front of him. Crossed her arms.

 

'Not to everyone. Bart?'

 

'He's right Soph. It's just a game.'

 

An hour later, Noah had calmed down. Connor, under pressure from Sophie, had apologised. He had promised not to do anything like that ever again. Pizza had arrived, and the four of them sat around in the room eating. Bart wasn’t hungry. He had taken one bite and he had forced himself to swallow that. Still holding the bitten slice of pepperoni pizza he stood in the middle of them.

 

'Guys. I've got a private detective job.'

 

No one spoke for a long two seconds.

 

'No. Way!' said Sophie. She pushed her hands through her dark wavy hair and did an exaggerated open-mouthed surprise face. 'No fucking way. No. My little Barty! You can't go. Who am I going to patronise?'

 

She embraced him, still holding him as Connor patted him on the back.

 

'Well done, mate. You can do this, yeah.'

 

Noah hadn’t moved. He looked up. Mouth half full of pizza.

 

‘So, go on. What’s the case?’

 

'I got to find someone and make them go to school.’

 

Noah almost choked on his pizza. 

 

‘Yeah. I know! Anyway, I reckon you lot all thought that this P.I. stuff was bullshit. And I would have thought that too if it was one of you guys, but I got a fucking job, man! I'm going away tomorrow to Margate. I want to know what you guys think. I mean, what you really think. Like truth.'

For a moment no one spoke. And then Noah approached him placing a hand on Bart’s shoulder.

 

'Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk. Bro. I’m going to be honest and say that I think you're a crazy bastard. You’re mental Dude! You know that? You could literally do anything. Anything you want to Dude.

Anything. Private Investigators don't even earn that much Man, and have you ever met one? Mental. But Jeez Bart... you know we're proud of you, don't you Bro?'

 

And Bart felt almost tearful.

 

'I just want to do something that means something, you know? Something good. Make the world right. A little bit less wrong, anyway.'

 

Connor stood up. Put his arm around his friend. And his arm was strong. His grip firm.

 

'You can do it, Mate. You can do anything, Bart. We're totally on your side. Never any tricks in real life, yeah?'

 

He slapped Bart on the back and grabbed his Coke from the shelf.

 

Sophie was collecting up her things, shovelling them into her bag. 

 

'Soph?' said Bart.

 

‘What does your Granddad say?’

 

‘Soph.’

 

Bart held out his arms. She shook him away.

 

‘Come on. What has your Granddad said, you know, about what you’re doing?’

 

Bart stepped back.

 

‘I haven’t told him.’

 

She shook her head, filled her rucksack, pulled the cord tight.

 

'My God, can you boys even hear yourselves?' And she spoke with a raised, tremulous voice. 'You can do this – macho bullshit! You’re idiots! For God’s sake, I care about you Bart. I really care about you. A lot. And you're going to- What? Throw away your exams. Ruin your whole future? Get yourself beaten up? Get yourself killed? All for what? Because your mummy doesn’t love you? You know what Bart. Everyone's family stinks. Everyone’s! And as for you two? Just - fucking grow up!'

 

And then she left. She slammed the door as Noah had done before her, except harder. And unlike Noah, Sophie did not come back. They heard her car start up, its little wheels spinning on the gravel drive.

 

Connor looked at Bart.

 

'We're going to need you take us home.'