Doubling Down

Chapter 1 London Current time Ciaran swung his power sword through the air. In no time, the remaining head on the strange-looking creature's gigantic tentacle dropped to the icy ground. Then its body collapsed, wriggled for a short time, and disintegrated into a puddle before evaporating into nothingness. “Didn’t expect this, did you?” Ciaran muttered and smiled to himself. He retracted the sword blade. The sword's handle turned into a gun as he holstered it. “Let’s go,” he said to the black horse and patted its neck. The horse reared up on its back legs, kicking its front legs in the air, then spun around and turned into an enormous motorcycle. The engine roared. It sounded powerful enough to propel a small spaceship. The sound gave Ciaran a rush of adrenaline. He accelerated the vehicle. The icy surface didn’t affect his speed or traction, as the vehicle's wheels hardly touched the ground. Behind him, power and light sparked like fireworks, recording his triumph and the credits of the game he had just won. Ciaran stepped out of the 3D screen hovering in the middle of the game room in the penthouse in one of the most exclusive areas in London. The screen still flickered, as the energy had not yet settled. He put the game controller on a bench littered with numerous electronic devices and glanced back at the screen. He’d give it a couple of minutes to cool down and record the new data. This hologame technology was still new and was difficult for him to master. But he didn’t mind the slow process. He enjoyed playing the hologames—especially when he was winning. He made himself a cup of strong black coffee and took it to the veranda. The expansive balcony arched out into the cold air and overlooked the magnificent city of London. The vibrant city had started waking up and getting ready for a new day. Ciaran used to prefer the peaceful and tranquil views of the countryside and the rolling hills in front of Mon Ciel, the LeBlancs' estate where he grew up. But now, he preferred the city views. Mon Ciel and what happened there seemed like a lifetime ago. He shook his head, trying to shake off the song that started playing in his head as soon as he stopped playing the hologame. And all the roads we have to walk are winding And all the lights that lead us there are blinding. It was strange… He knew the song, but he didn’t really like the band, Oasis. The words were haunting though, and they reminded him of something he didn’t want to think about. Ciaran took another sip of coffee, only to find that the cup was now empty. He went back inside to make another one, but then he changed his mind and put the empty cup aside. It was time to head to the LeBlancs' headquarters. He had a couple of important meetings scheduled today. He’d grab some real coffee on the way in. The hologame screen was still flickering. He frowned. “Come on!” he muttered and grabbed the controller. Before he could shut down the hovering screen, a message box popped up at the bottom. “Greetings!” Ciaran wrinkled his brow. Hologamers weren’t supposed to interact outside of the games. “The game has ended," he typed. "I'm logging out,” “I’m not finished with you yet.” Ciaran shook his head and hovered the cursor over the logout button. He could use a voice command, which would probably be faster. Still, he didn’t want to give this gamer any more information about him and his whereabouts. Before Ciaran clicked the button, another message popped up. “Ciaran LeBlanc, I know where you live.” Rage exploded in his mind. He had managed the LeBlanc conglomerate since he was a teenager. He'd handled countless numbers of business deals and conflicts, and sometimes they ended in fights. He won some, and he lost some. That was the nature of competition, and Ciaran accepted the rules of the game. But he had never been threatened. “If you think a threat will garner my attention, then you’re mistaken.” “Hologame rule number one forbids interactions with other players outside the games. I have taken a significant risk to reach out to you.” “But I’m not interested in whatever it is you want to say. You’ve lost. If you don’t accept the outcome of the game, take it to the game council.” “I accept my defeat, Ciaran, and I didn’t mean to threaten you. I only want your attention.” “You’ve got thirty seconds.” “I need you to delay the conversion of the prize you won in the game with me.” “Why would I do that?” “What you won in that game isn’t as important as what I have lost.” “If it’s so important to you, why would you gamble it? You must be an addict. Why should I have any sympathy for you?” “I know you didn’t play simply for entertainment. You want to keep an eye on technology and its interaction with the outer world. You want to protect human interests.” “I’m no saint.” “I know you’re not a saint, Ciaran. We both work for profit, but we also act in the best interest of our kind. And on that ground, I'm asking for your compassion. All you need to do is to delay the credit claim.” Ciaran leaned back in his chair and looked at the empty chat box hovering in the air. Then he triggered the voice command. “What will I receive in return?” “When humans reach the end of their limited lifespan, I have access to the essence of their being after the physical body is gone. I trade what humans refer to as souls.” Ciaran chuckled. “I guess you threw innocent souls in to buy the game credits?” “Something like that. But the souls I trade are not innocent. They are of high value, and I can get a lot more out of them than by losing them in a game. But the game credit conversion doesn’t care what souls I used to buy credits. So, with a bit more time, I’ll swap in souls of a lower value. You have nothing to lose, Ciaran. You’ll get the same value of whatever it is that you used to buy the game credits.” “If everything remains the same for me, then what’s in it for me? Why should I delay cashing out?” “I’ll trade with you.” “I'm not interested in trading anything with the supernaturals.” “Why not?” “I don’t believe they can deliver anything I care about.” “How about life?” “You can’t bring back the dead. I know that much about the supernaturals.” “Oh, so you’ve lost someone you care about, and the thought of reversing their death has crossed your mind!” Ciaran cursed under his breath. “I’m busy, and my interest and attention are waning.” “You’re right that I can’t bring a dead human back to life. But I have access to the books of upcoming natural deaths that the underworld marshals use to collect souls. I can tell you whose number is up. I’ll leave it up to you to act on the information you receive. You can prevent the certain death of someone of your choice in the future. If you choose to alter someone’s lifespan, that person’s death will become unnatural, but it will still happen. I am more than sure you are interested in that deal.” Ciaran shifted in his chair. “Keep talking.” “There are two conditions, though.” “Naturally.” “One, you can’t request your own time of death. You can’t use the information to save yourself. And two, you can’t change your mind. Once you have asked your question about the person of interest, you can’t change your mind and ask for information about a different person.” Ciaran shrugged. “I can accept that. What’re the terms?” “If you delay the credits for this game, I’ll give you the number of one person you request.” “But you’ve lost ten credits to me in this game.” “I know the value of my trade, Ciaran. Ten credits for one life. Take it or leave it.” “All right. We have an agreement.” “I’ll be in touch with the specifics. But for now, you should think about the person whose life you want to prolong. Remember, you cannot change your mind.” The gamer logged off. Ciaran stared at the blank screen for a second and then shut down the hovering screen.