I looked up to see the faces of my comrades in confusion.

  “Is that not the goal?” I asked.

  The Son of Jack took a bite from his chicken. Trent looked away and sipped his drink while nodding to Maurice.

  “To get our get back?”

  Maurice looked around and cleared his throat. He motioned for me to lower my head as he spoke in a low tone.

  “Jamal, shut the fuck up.”

  What is a fuck?

  “You can’t go around announcing that shit,” he continued. “It takes one person hearing you say that, and the entire thing is fucked.”

  “This was your quest idea!” I replied.

  “Yeah–I know. But that was before I knew it was a gang. One nigga? Fine. Easy. Ten? Maybe more?”

  “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that,” sighed the Son of Jack. “That’s how we end up like you–with holes.”

  “And there’s no way we just ask,” Trenton added, “Even if we somehow did? What’s stopping them from blowing our shit straight to God?”

  I took a bite and pondered my options. I did not want my fecal matter blown to any local deity. Not good for my reputation, assuredly.

  What made these Stans of the West Side so dangerous?

  [INVESTIGATION STARTED]

  What the–

  [NEW ORGANIZATION DISCOVERED: WEST SIDE STANS]

  A floating pane of text came out of nowhere. I reached out to touch it, but my hand fell through without resistance.

  “Nigga, are you good?”

  I turned to Maurice and pointed to the floating pane.

  “You don’t see–”

  The rest of the table was staring at my disillusionment. I exhaled and tried to pretend that it was not there.

  “Anyway,” said the Son of Jack, “We’re not going to roll up on a gang that has manpower.”

  The floating text wrote over itself.

  [POSSESSES FORMIDABLE NUMBER]

  I glanced back and forth between him and the text. Nodding, I asked another question.

  “And these numbers you claim they have…are they skilled warriors?”

  “Not a single one has hands,” answered Maurice, “They always packing. Doesn’t matter how small the issue is. I stepped on their shoes–mind you, by accident–and they upped the pole on me.”

  [FAVORS RANGED ATTACKS.]

  [QUICK TO ESCALATE]

  “What is their leader like? If we come to him peacefully, will he talk?”

  “Fuck no,” said Trent. “Fuck him anyways. The leader of a bunch of bums. They’re not like that, for real. They claim the West Side but they’re not even the big dogs, just the loudest ones. Half of their members are still in jail or prison for doing stupid shit in broad daylight.”

  [LEADER IS UNREASONABLE]

  >[REFLECTS IN BEHAVIOR OF UNDERLINGS]

  [CONTESTED IN WEST REGION]

  [REVISION]

  [POSSESSES FORMIDABLE NUMBER]

  >>>

  [TOTAL NUMBER FORMIDABLE. ACTING NUMBER REDUCED]]

  “What of their allies?”

  Maurice sipped his drink before he responded.

  “No one fucks with them like that. Everyone in the West Side just ignores them because they’re not about that life.”

  [NO ALLIES]

  “And they’re broke,” laughed the Son of Jack, “How you gonna claim to be all that, and be broke?

  [BROKE]

  I see it now.

  “What enchantments do they possess? Their war beasts? What of their cavalry?"

  [INVESTIGATION STOP]

  Maurice buried his face in his hands.

  “I’m gonna tell auntie to get you checked out,” he sighed.

  “I’m gonna head out bro,” said the Son of Jack. “Get well soon, dude.”

  He shook the hands of everyone at the table and walked out of the tavern. Trent opened his mouth to speak but was halted by the sound of his phone.

  From the sound of it, I thought he was communing with a banshee. Yelling, screaming, and curses surged from his phone.

  “—better not be out with that bitch! Trent I swear to GOD-!!”

  Maurice and I exchanged a glance before looking at Trent, who scrambled to speak.

  “Baby–baby chill the fuck out–I’m with Maurice and his cousin–babe there are no women–”

  The banshee from the phone did not cease. Trent pressed a button and silenced her with an audible sigh.

  “I’m gonna go deal with her,” he said, “You guys be easy.”

  He took a couple of steps before turning around.

  “You were shot in front of a gas station, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Heard a Stan talkin’ about how a new guy fucked up a gas station robbery.. If it’s the same gas station, the attendant could know something.”

  [GET YOUR GET BACK - PART 1 - UPDATED]

  “But you didn’t hear it from me,” said Trent.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  He walked off.

  I opened my phone and selected the [GANGS] square. I tapped on the [WEST SIDE STANS] and the floating pane popped in front of me again. Maurice and I ate in silence as I pondered the gathered information.

  “What if we sought out this gas attendant Trent spoke of? If there is evidence, we could submit it to the lawmen of this land.”

  Maurice shrugged.

  “Maybe. But the moment you go to the ‘lawmen’ you’ll have another problem.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Snitches get stitches. Go ahead and tell the police, see how far that gets you.”

  “Are they inadequate at their job?”

  “The opposite.”

  [INVESTIGATION START]

  [NEW ORGANIZATION DISCOVERED: SAINT STANLOWE POLICE]

  “They’re too good,” Maurice continued, “I think they have informants.”

  [POSSESSES GANG INFORMANTS]

  “But you said snitching would get the stitching? How do they get away with having spies within ranks?”

  “Police in this city move awfully fast. They’re either lucky, good at their job, or have an inside man. Like I said, I’m betting on the inside man.”

  [INCOGNITO ASSETS WITHIN RANKS]

  [FAST RESPONSE TIME]

  “Then why would we not seek their help?”

  “The last guy to be a known informant got killed.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “And then his family got killed. And anyone who ever rocked him like that got killed too.”

  [INVESTIGATION STOP]

  “Like I said, play that game if you want to. Just let me know so I can stay far away from that shit.”

  I leaned back in my chair. The Stans of the West Side seemed ever impossible to reach.

  “What about my get back?”

  Maurice got up from the table and stretched. He waited a moment before he spoke.

  “Shit, man. I don’t know. We can ask the gas station guy and see if he’d be willing to show us anything. I doubt it though. And even if we did, you’d either go to the cops of piss off a gang.”

  [CONTINUE TUTORIAL QUEST: GET YOUR GET BACK?]

  [COMPLETION: + + + REPUTATION]

  [FAILURE: - - - REPUTATION]

  I stared at the failure option. This loss of reputation was something I could not afford.

  “I’ve stood before Arch Dragons. The Stans of the West Side are no match for them. Let’s find this attendant and question what he knows.”

  [TUTORIAL QUEST CONTINUED: + REP]

  Maurice pursed his lips and nodded.

  “We gotta get you checked out,” he sighed. “Fuck it, let’s go ask. At least if you see his face again you’ll know to avoid him.”

  We boarded Maurice’s steel dragon and flew over to a familiar scene. Several windows in the building were covered in black tarp with scattered shards of glass on the ground around them.

  I followed behind Maurice as we approached the building but stopped shy of the doorway.

  A dark maroon spot by the building called to me.

  Flashes of memory.

  Three shots.

  The sound of my head against the pavement.

  Yelling from the men.

  Then, memories from my past life.

  The maw of Arch Dragon Retrius.

  My party, with outstretched hands toward me.

  My own hand, raised in defense, as a flash of light consumed me.

  I walked over and stood above the scene of my injury. The maroon spot stretched across the ground, like an ugly scar. My breathing became strained as I balled my hands into fists. My jaw clenched into gritted teeth as I heard Maurice come up behind me.

  Why hadn’t I felt this way before?

  “Jamal, what are you waiting for–oh.”

  He stood beside me, observing the dried stains of blood. My eyes were fixated on every detail of the stain. After a minute I heard his voice again.

  “Is this…?”

  I nodded.

  “Damn,” he sighed, “That’s a lot of blood.”

  “These…Stans of the West Side…they have to pay.”

  “Jamal, look man, I don’t know if we can make that happen.”

  I pried my eyes off of the spattered scene and faced him with confusion.

  “This was your idea,” I remarked, “It was you who offered this quest to get revenge.”

  “Yeah and I told you,” he said with a raised voice, “That I’m not picking a fight with an entire gang. I feel for you, I do, but chasing after them is how you add a second stain on the sidewalk, dumbass!”

  “Maurice, hear me carefully. In the short time I’ve spent with you today you have been nothing but helpful. If it were the other way around, I would reciprocate this favor without hesitation.”

  “Well, good for you, nigga!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Because family or not, I’m not risking my ass because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve been jacked before too! You don’t see me trying to track them and shit.”

  “You come to me and now you abandon the quest? Your weakness disgusts me, Darius–!”

  “Nigga, who is Darius?”

  Images of a man in heavy armor flashed in my head before disappearing again.

  “It’s…it’s no one. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  We stood in silence. I sucked my teeth and turned away, unable to think of the words I needed at this moment. Maurice patted my shoulder and shook his head before speaking in a low tone.

  “Shit happens man.”

  I looked at Maurice with a weary expression.

  “Going after them though?” he continued, “That’s how you get another stain on the sidewalk. Let’s just ask the dude inside if he got a name or face.”

  I nodded, defeated.

  “Come on,” he called, walking away.

  I took a moment to look back at my blood on the ground.

  Darius…

  Why did that name come now?

  Upon opening the door a chime heralded our arrival. The shopkeeper stood idle and gave a nod upon seeing us walk in.

  “Merchant!” I called, “We have a favor to ask of you.”

  He returned a glossy eyed stare.

  “The blood staining your ground out there belongs to me. Might have you caught the name or face of my assailant?”

  His half opened mouth failed to fill me with confidence.

  “What?”

  Maurice sighed and walked to the counter.

  “My cousin got shot outside your store a couple days ago. Did you see the guys who did it?”

  “Oh. No, but our camera would’ve.”

  “Perfect. Thank you, shopkeeper. If you could kindly show us the–”

  [PRESENCE CHECK FAILED]

  “I never said I’d show you. Only for the eyes of store employees.”

  I chewed my tongue. A pentagon containing my current attributes popped up in front of me. One line blinked rapidly flashed red:

  [PRESENCE: 5]

  I waved the shape off and tried again.

  “Surely I can give you something to change your mind? How about…”

  I instinctively reached for my pockets. Another strip of text appeared in front of me.

  [CURRENT CASH: $35]

  “Thirty-five entire dollars!”

  The shopkeeper rubbed his chin for a moment. I looked at Maurice, who shrugged in silence. I glanced back at the shopkeeper, hoping for a favorable outcome.

  [PRESENCE CHECK FAILED]

  “Can’t do it. Sorry.”

  I shoved the money back in my pocket and walked away. All I could think about was the loss of reputation I was going to suffer if I failed this quest.

  “Let me talk to you real quick.”

  It was Maurice. He spoke to the shopkeeper in a low tone.

  “Help us out, we’ll help you out.”

  “You can’t help me,” the shopkeeper replied.

  “I know you have a problem with runners.”

  The merchant went quiet.

  “A bitched out weed dealer who can’t even force people to pay. You give us the names, we’ll get you the cash or something you can pawn from them.”

  “Right,” I chimed in, “We deal with your thief problem.”

  “And you show us the video. Deal?”

  The merchant bit his lip and looked between us. Then he lowered his eyes onto the counter.

  I heard him exhale.

  [PRESENCE CHECK SUCCEEDED]

  [ASSISTED BY: MAURICE]

  [TUTORIAL QUEST: GET YOUR GET BACK: PART 2 - UPDATED]

  [NEW OBJECTIVE: ACCESS SECURITY FOOTAGE]