"Nice business you have here," Van said as he ran his fingers over one of the sets of haptic goggles that was hanging from the wall.
"CIA? Oh, crap!" Bramif said. All the blood drained from his face.
"That's right," Van said as he leaned over the counter. He was trying his best to look as calm and relaxed as possible. "And we're here to ask you a few questions."
"Your brother here?" Sang asked.
"Yeah… Sam! Sam!" Bramif called as he walked over to the back door and opened it. "Come out here, please."
Sang shot a grin over at Van and winked. This was actually kind of fun. As long as the two brothers didn't get violent, they might not even need O'Hara.
"What is it?" Sam asked as he stormed into the room. He was wearing gloves, and was absolutely covered in green liquid. Van recognized it as haptic pod fluid. "I'm right in the middle of fixing a pod."
"These two are with the government," Bramif said. "They want to ask us some questions."
"Government?" Sam growled. "Look, I told you goons a million and a half times, just because we're certified Draco technicians doesn't mean we have access to the technology, okay? We just fix the stupid feedback issues."
"We’re not here about that," Sang said. "We're here to inquire regarding your extra-curricular activities."
"Seems that some people like to make their money by selling alternative characters in the Dragon Kings of the New World," Van said. Even speaking, he wondered how he could look intimidating to Sam, who was over six feet tall and had wide, square shoulders.
"What? The hell is the CIA poking around about a video game?" Sam asked. "We don't have time for this – I've got a pod to repair."
"Oh, right, you don't have time," Van said. "I guess we'll have to call Draco and ask them about your activities."
Sam glanced at Bramif, who merely held his hands up helplessly. After another moment, he spoke. "Okay, what do you want from us?" he asked as he slowly took his apron off and dropped his gloves on the ground.
"We're interested in this little character-selling operation you have going on," Sang said.
"Very interested," Van echoed.
"What does interested mean?" Sam asked. He leaned forward and placed both his hands on the counter. His arms were huge. At least Bramif had kind of shuffled off to the side and was sitting quietly.
"Are you familiar with the recent string of explosions that's been plaguing California?" Van asked.
"In San Francisco? Yeah. The news said it's some kind of natural gas problem. Big oil or whatever," Sam said with a scowl.
"Well, Uncle Sam has a different opinion," Van said, trying to channel Neil's cadences. "In fact, we're curious if it's terrorist activity."
"And here's the situation," Sang said. "We've been tracking their methods of operation, and it appears that these terrorists like to coordinate within this video game of Draco's."
Sam wrinkled his face. "Uh uh. Let me see that badge of yours," he said.
"I'm sorry?" Sang asked, dropping character completely. Her face softened considerably, and Van knew they were in trouble. Why couldn’t they just cooperate?
"We sell a lot of high value property to a secondary market, and we've got to protect against scammers," Sam calmly explained. "Let me get that badge of yours and I'll call your headquarters so I can verify that you guys are actually CIA, and not just some punks trying to play us for idiots."
Sang shrugged and took her badge out. "It's real; here." Sam took the badge and began to scrutinize it.
"Doesn't look real to me," Sam said. "Beat it, bozos."
Sang glanced at Van and mouthed the words "help me" to him. He shrugged at her. Normally, when Van mouthed off to Neil or O'Hara, they would hit him or shove a gun into his ribcage. Sam was huge compared to the diminutive Sang, though, and Van had never thrown a punch in his life. Where the hell was O'Hara? Still, he had to do something…
"Bozo?" Van asked as he stormed around the counter and got right up in Sam's face. "That badge is real, and you better think twice before you call a couple of government agents bozos."
Sam growled and stood up straight. Van tried to keep his angry and fierce expression despite the fact that this nerd was far scarier than he could ever have imagined. "Get. Out. Now," Sam hissed.
"Please," Bramif added.
"All it's gonna take is one phone call, and Draco will be all over you," Van hissed back.
"Yeah, like they're gonna find anything," Sam said. "We're reported all the time. It's a hassle, but we can pass any inspection they throw at us. Get out – and I'm not saying it again."
The bell jingled behind them as O'Hara walked in. "Dear God, I just had to abandon my vehicle in the middle of the road. There's no way to find a parking spot in this city!"
"Who the hell are you?" Sam asked.
"Name's Agent O'Hara," she said. "You guys get anything?" she asked as she looked at Van and Sang.
"They're not cooperating," Sang said.
O'Hara drew a revolver out of her jacket and aimed the gun square at Sam. She pulled the trigger, leading to a crack that was deafening.
"Oh my God!" Sang screamed as she dropped to her knees.
Sam stood paralyzed, his eyes wide with terror.
"Now, that first round had a blank in it," O'Hara said as she cocked the trigger on her revolver. "The next one doesn't. So, you jackasses better get Sang and Van whatever the hell they're whining about before I shoot one or more of you."
"Oh…oh God…" Sam gasped. "Please, please don't kill us."
"Yeah, we might need to get this moving along," O'Hara said. "I can't remember if we phoned the cops ahead of time."
"Sang?" Van asked. She had slumped to the ground and covered her ears. Her eyes were shut, and she seemed almost completely out of it. "Sang?" There was no response.
"Please, whoever you are, don't hurt us. Take all the money in the register," Bramif said.
"We're not robbing you," O'Hara said as she walked closer to the counter. "Well, I guess technically we are robbing you, but not of your money. Van, why are we here again?"
"We need characters," Van said. "Eight of them. For our special operations team."
"What?" Sam asked. "You mean you're not kidding about the terrorism?"
"No, we're not," O'Hara said. "And I'm now officially counting. Twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six…"
"Okay, okay, here," Bramif said as he grabbed a collection of USB sticks and scattered them out on the counter. He shoved wires out onto the ground and threw down a little 3D display system. "These are all of our best characters."
Van walked over and began to examine them. Sam was still standing still; his hands were up and he was shaking terribly.
"These should do it," Van murmured as he began to look at a character's stats.
"Perfect," Van said. This character was strong enough to be worth a few grand, easily. He looked over at Sang, who had finally started to snap out of her state. His ears were still ringing pretty badly from O'Hara shooting that gun, so he figured she was probably almost deaf from it.
"We good?" O'Hara asked.
"Yeah, we've got what we need," Van said as he helped Sang get to her feet.
"Wonderful," O'Hara replied. "Now, let's be really honest and clear with you fellas here; there will be no consequences for our actions here. No one was hurt, and that means today was the best day you're ever gonna have." She threw a wad of cash onto the table. "This should adequately compensate you for your work. Should you attempt to sabotage or tell anyone about us, you're gonna get a sternly worded letter from the three of us, and more. Got it?"
"Yes – yes, ma'am," Sam stammered.
"Great. Thanks, guys," O'Hara replied with a smile. She looked over at Van then. "Didn't I tell ya this place had the best customer service?"
CHAPTER FOUR
"Are we going to talk about it?" Van asked as he examined himself in the mirror of the abandoned throne room. His new character, Fenwar, was rather striking. His previous character – that terrible bard, Semimodo – had been one of the worst builds he had ever designed, but this new character made up for it in spades. A Level 65 Berserker? Finally, he wouldn't be useless in combat anymore. He placed his hand against the massive warhammer that hung off of his back and gripped the handle. This was the kind of character he could get behind.