Infinity Legends

Chapter 38: The Master Plan

Andre would never admit it to the other Star Rangers, and hardly even admitted it to himself, but Barry Watson’s attack against him at the end of his interview had been an unacceptable provocation that demanded retribution.

That said, he stood by his original decision of not engaging Blacksky and his friends on their game of petty squabbles. If anything, that would boost public support for the underdogs and erode the wide sympathy the audience showed towards the Rangers, the current champions. Still, he would not sit idly by while an amateur such as Blacksky slandered his good name.

If Kramen Blacksky wanted war, he would have war. On Laserburn terms.

That had led to a curious investigation on Andre’s free time. Being in possession of the TOPAS, the system originally created by Blacksky himself for the Star Rangers’ use, Andre had run a few simulations on the System. The results were intriguing to say the least.

The Infinity Riders had composed a perfect team so far. Their synergies functioned perfectly, and their overall score, even with just half a team, were concerning. Such assembly was a statistical impossibility under random circumstances, which meant either Blacksky had a copy of the System, or had recreated it from scratch. Either scenario provided an equal share of liabilities and very opportune insights.

Over the week, the social media profiles of the Infinity Riders had also announced the recruitment of an engineer: Ybor Sparkwork. Andre had wasted no time adding him to the System to confirm what he already suspected.

[Preset: INFINITY LOSERS | Ybor Sparkwork

[Physical Damage: 1,450

[Dark-Matter (Damage): 1,000

[Dark-Matter (Diverse): 3,500

[Tech: 4,000

[Endurance: 10,500

[Support: 4,800

[Healing: 3,500

[Spawn: 1,500

[Overall: 30,250]

The Infinity Riders were most certainly using the System to build their merry band of ragtags. At that pace, they were bound to eventually top the Star Rangers’ overall score, and while that could prove problematic, it was also the Riders’ greatest vulnerability.

For one, after a lengthy reflection on the impacts Mr. Sparkwork had had over the specific scores, Andre had finally realized the fools were attempting an improved version of the old Double Healer Gambit. Furthermore, with not nearly as much effort, he had inferred the shameful performance of the Riders on matters of Physical Damage. Not even amateurs would venture into a competitive match with 1,450 Physical Damage points, which indicated their next moves in terms of recruitment.

The Infinity Riders would be going after soldiers, snipers, gunslingers, melee fighters and other brute force individuals.

And Andre knew exactly how to proceed.

***

It was raining in Winner City.

The droplets ran down the glass walls of Andrew Laserburn’s penthouse. Few players felt the need to own real-estate property in Fantasy Stars, but there was something alluring about standing over the lesser minds, overlooking the massive urban expanse from a position of separation, studying the flux of civilian traffic by ground and air. A virtual extension of Andre’s home to the universe he had studied and conquered over the years. To anyone who came visiting or who gawked from the streets below, the penthouse was a grand and tremendously decorated reminder that Andrew Laserburn was the best Spawn-Master in the world, fighting for the best Fantasy Stars Legends team in the world.

Such reminder seemed to have left a lasting impression on the orange reptile soldier that walked into the penthouse. The alien gazed in awe at every piece of alien artwork displayed on the walls, taking specially long on the golden trophies floating in the center of the guest room, relics of some of the proudest moments in Andrew’s career.

“Gahagan. Long time. Very long time,” Andrew Laserburn, an identical recreation of his blonde player in dark robes, spoke without turning away from the window.

“Indeed, sir,” the reptile hissed, bowing his head.

“Do you know why you are here?”

“No, sir.”

“How would you like to join a professional FSL team?”

“I would appreciate it, sir,” there was a hint of hesitation on the reptilian voice. “Are you inviting me to join…”

“The Star Rangers?” Andrew finally turned to face his guest. “No, I am not. Not yet. You will first do something for me.”

“At your orders, sir,” the reptile bowed again.

“Have you heard of the Infinity Riders?” Andrew asked as he paced by the rows of otherworldly paintings, some of which glowing in the faint lights of the penthouse.

“I have, sir. I am aware of their leader’s background. He was one of you.”

“He was my predecessor. He lost his position because of his failure, and he now tries to make us, the Star Rangers, the villains behind his downfall,” Andrew shook his head. “Tsc tsc tsc… Isn’t that sad.”

“It is, sir,” the soldier’s tone was getting on Andrew’s nerves, but he simultaneously appreciated the respect and discipline the young sniper displayed. “Would you like me to eliminate them, sir?”

“Not quite… It is a tad more complicated than that.”

“I am a hitman, sir. Perhaps I am not the right man for the job, then.”

“You are the perfect man for the job. What if I offered you more than your usual fee?” Andrew spoke slowly, giving the other man’s imagination enough time to run wild. “What if I made you rich in the game and outside of it? What if I made you part of our team? Could you make an effort to be more than a hitman for once?”

The reptile reflected for a bit, then promptly answered.

“Yes, sir.”

***

5 days later.

“Moving on to the next topic,” Kramen flipped a page on the notebook between his legs. “Marketing.”

The Infinity Riders all sat outside of their namesake ship, resting against beautiful rocks sticking from the grassy plains. It was a bucolic little world with little relevance to players. That was the main reason for them to have selected that particular planet for their first official team meeting. With the group growing, the mess hall of the Infinity had started feeling a bit claustrophobic, and big cities were not a good idea for a meetup given the amount of curious ears potentially roaming about. For privacy, they would be wise to visit somewhere as remote as that valley.

The rest of the reason involved the humbling landscape generated by the surrounding mountains and the distant waterfalls feeding broad tranquil rivers that ran across the valley. Gurm had also been very emphatic on how pleasant the songs of the local birds were, and Kramen had to admit she had a point. Sometimes he would even zone out of the less serious topics to appreciate the melodies of the songbirds.

“Great news for marketing,” Lord said while playing his lute according to the birds’ songs. “Our post announcing Ybor’s recruitment generated a ton of engagement. People loved it. His beachboy attitude and looks made him very popular among the female demographics and the internet pretty much melted down over the drones. We even have a petition to make Alpha the team’s mascot, though that’s being contested by a fan-driven campaign to make Echo the official mascot, and yesterday someone launched #TeamCharlie.”

“I can barely tell them apart myself,” Ybor scratched his head while trying to figure out which drone was resting on his lap.

“The fans most definitely can,” Potathunder winked.

“Hey, idea!” Gurm raised her hand. “Why don’t we make a series of posts about each of the drones and their personalities!”

“Because they don’t have personalities,” Kramen said flatly.

“The public doesn’t know that,” Ybor grinned, then fist-bumped Gurm. “Nice idea, hoodie.”

“That really is a good idea, I’ll work on that,” Lord stated.

“Since we’re talking about our new inventor, I have a question,” Serry stood up. “Can you upgrade my dark-matter jewels?”

“No,” Ybor responded.

“Can you make me staffs or robes?” Gurm asked.

“Nope.”

“What can you do, then?” Serry asked.

“I can upgrade spider boy…”

“Unnecessary,” DM3 buzzed. “Self-improvement policies shall not be violated.”

“I can probably upgrade Lord’s banjo, too,” Ybor looked at the bard.

“First, it’s a lute,” Potathunder said. “Second, the only way anyone touches it is if I decide to slam it against their heads.”

“I touched it once,” Kramen recalled the day they had met.

In the blink of an eye, Lord had swung the instrument and bonked Kramen’s head with it.

“All fixed now,” Lord smiled. “Anyhow, where were we?”

“You were shitting on my crafting skills,” Ybor pointed out.

“That wasn’t the intention, sweetheart,” Serry said. “I just wanted to figure out how to best use your skills.”

“And we inferred we can’t,” Kramen grumbled.

“Then we know what to do next,” Takol spoke after waking up from an accidental nap on the grass. “We recruit people who use weapons Ybor can build. Gunslinger, soldiers, snipers…”

“A solid plan,” Kramen nodded. “Anyone knows where we could find a good sniper?”

“Finding a good sniper, that’s not quite true,” Potathunder sang, “if the sniper really is good, it’s he who will find you!”

And as the last note left the bard’s lip, a red laser pierced his chest, dropping him dead over his lute, face first in the dirt.

As the team scrambled to their feet and searched for the assailant, it became clear that the shot had come from extremely far away, from some point in the surrounding mountains.

After all, Potathunder’s stupid song was right.