1

January 19th, 2073

Damon had just managed to get some shuteye when his damned cell phone started vibrating. Sleep had been a rare thing to come by over the last twenty years. He was used to sleeping with one eye open, but having Angie assigned to the African mission along with him had definitely improved the quality of his sleep. Crashing with a fellow soldier was part of that. The other part was sharing a bed with her again. He gazed at her outline against the moonlit sky. She was beginning to stir. He reached for his cell. The display read 1:53 a.m.

“Yeah, Damon here,” he groaned. Angie sat up, bleary-eyed, and pulled the bedspread over her chest.

“Damo, it’s Starkey.”

Damon smacked his hand against his forehead. A call from Starkey in the middle of the night meant it was bad news. Stark never contacted him for trivial matters. When he called, it meant the mission had become “complicated.”

“We need you back here stateside, Damo.”

“Stark, I just got here.”

Starkey ignored the reply and didn’t say a word. He waited in silence.

Years ago, Damon would have raged, yelling and cursing about late changes to his mission plans. He had even more reason to be angry on this one. It was Stark who’d sent him to Africa in the first place; to take down the leaders of a religious sect who were streaming the executions of innocent people. Damon wanted this one. And he wanted to stay assigned with Angie. That was a rare opportunity. He had every right to yell at Stark.

But that was the old Damon. He wasn’t a rageaholic anymore. There was a lot of water under that bridge. After two ex-wives, hundreds of missions and countless AA meetings, he knew better. He understood the eventuality of this conversation. “Fill me in,” he sighed.

“Cooper will assume the leadership of your team in Africa. We’ve arranged a flight for you to New York.”

Damon glanced at Angie. “I want Ang with me.”

“I know. She’ll be on the same flight.”

“So what’s the emergency in New York?”

Starkey chuckled. “The CEO of RayStrike just went missing,” he paused. “And he just happens to be a big DNC donor.”

2

When Damon got off the phone with Starkey twenty minutes later, he was already decided. The payout for the mission was a huge part of that. It would be more money than he’d ever made on a single job.

“Yeah, well, it’s a big deal,” Angie said after being updated on some of the details. “Even I’ve heard of him.”

Damon chuckled. He stopped packing and gazed at her on the other side of the bed. Angie had thrown on a white housecoat that, in the soft lamplight, contrasted beautifully against her skin. Damon glanced at the clock. It was 2:46 a.m. They needed to be at the Djibouti-Ambouli International Airport by 6:15 a.m. and they still had a long drive ahead of them. Damn, not enough time, he thought.

Angie noticed his reflections, sauntered over to him, and embraced him. “Are you feeling a little unsteady, Mr. Special Operations Commander?” she teased.

Damon groaned and gently pushed her away. “You are evil, Angie Richards!”

She giggled and walked back to her side of the bed. As they packed, Damon filled her in on more of the phone conversation. “Stark says this game world requires a ‘full-immersion’ transfer. It’s not like plugging into a game. Your whole body is transferred there. So, we’ll have to get that implant device operation.”

Angie stopped zipping her knapsack. “If that’s the case, I’m not going.”

Damon looked up at her, puzzled. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve never been scarred in battle,” she said, “and I won’t allow that to happen now. Not for something like this.”

Damon shoved the rest of his clothes into the knapsack and walked to her. “Ang, you’re not getting scarred. It’s just a simple procedure.”

She shook her head. “Uh-uh, I’m not doing it.”

Damon looked at her, exasperated. He wrapped his arms around her. “Maybe you’re afraid this might force you to make a decision about us,” he prodded, trying to sway her. “You know, we could retire after this mission.”

Angie peered up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. She was about to say something, then thought better of it.

“Come on, Ang,” he said, gently shaking her.

She remained quiet, seemingly on the edge of her decision. Angie had always been fiercely protective of him, so Damon appealed to that nature.

“I’m going in,” he said, “and I need you there with me.”

Angie stared at him a moment longer, then sighed. “Oh, alright. I’ll get the damn operation.”

3

The African sun was just rising as Damon and Angie drove east toward Camp Lemonnier, a naval base that contained the closest military airport. As their jeep bumped along the poorly maintained road, Damon glanced at the waters of the Gulf of Tadjoura, which gleamed a deep cerulean blue. Waves nipped at the nearby shore, glimmering with amber sunlight.

“According to Stark, this world is divided into eight different triangular territories,” he said. “They call them ‘realms’ and each one has a unique theme… like water, earth, fire, that sort of thing.”

Angie listened quietly, staring at the sunrise ahead of them. She was worried about the mission. After the hundreds of assignments that spanned both their careers, this one was going to be a new and dangerous experience.

“After we get sent there,” Damon continued, “we’ll go through the entry portal. The realm fans out and becomes wider from there. Stark thinks we’ll find Harris in the first realm.” He smiled at Angie. “Short and sweet.”

She grunted. “That remains to be seen.”

They struck a deep pothole, and the jeep bounced jarringly. “In any case, Ang, if we don’t find him quickly, there are two towers or dungeons at the end of each realm. Only one can be accessed. We can enter the second one after we’ve defeated the boss—”

“Boss? What’s a boss?”

Damon laughed and rubbed the stubble on his scalp. “It’s sort of like the head monster. We kill it, and we’re granted access to the second dungeon. There’s a portal at the end of each dungeon that can transfer us back to the landing zone.”

Angie shifted in her seat. “It’s going to be strange fighting ‘monsters.’ That’s not exactly something we’re used to.”

Damon glanced at her. “We’ll be fine. I’ve asked Stark to recruit Zack for the mission.”

Angie snorted. Zack Kassian was a Marine they’d shared tours of duty with. He was courageous and dependable but was also the human version of a megaphone. “That should make it entertaining,” she said.

Damon laughed. “The other thing Stark mentioned was that this game world will affect our emotions adversely. It’s called ‘intensified emotional response’ or something and was part of the breakdown of this place. He says we’ll experience heightened states of fear, sorrow, even love, so we’ll have to manage our emotions, control our responses.”

Angie groaned.

Damon winked at her. “Just more of me to love, darling.”

She laughed. They were pulling up to the airport now. “Damo, there are so many things related to this mission that we’re not trained for. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

He scoffed. “Ah, we’ve been through worse. It’s just a game.”