Bitter: Book Five: Bitter, #5

By V. Moody

Bitter is a daily online serial, an ongoing story available to read on the web. A slice-of-life tale about a 16 year old schoolgirl who finds her life is not what she wanted, so she gets another one.

This book collects chapters 401-500 in an edited form.

• Language: English
• Publisher: V Moody
• Release date: Jan 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386223771

Book preview

Bitter

Book Five

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by

V  Moody

Cover by jcalebdesign.com

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Copyright: V Moody 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Interlude

Chapter One

As soon as the elite kobold gave the order for them to be killed, the kobold soldiers, who were already guarding Britta and her father, drew their weapons and aimed them in a threatening manner.

They were clubs and sticks, crudely made and lacking in any real craftsmanship, but they would still do a fair bit of damage if enough of them were used at the same time. Britta had no interest in finding out how many hits from a weaponised wooden spoon it would take to incapacitate her or Dad.

Wait, said Dad. Wait! He had his hands raised, palms open, the universally accepted gesture for, ‘Hey, come on now, don’t be like that.’

The kobolds hesitated. They seemed wary of their targets, which was understandable. They were facing players, who usually had weapons and spells that did damage. Usually.

Third formation, barked the elite kobold.

Instantly, the kobolds formed a circle around them and kneeled. Now there was nowhere to run to, but the kobolds weren’t really in a position to fight very effectively. They could maybe grab your legs if you tried to run past them.

Ranged, position!

More kobold appeared behind the kneelers. These carried slingshots.

Don’t worry, said Dad, sounding worried. Wait it out. You don’t kill players in a cutscene. It goes against every rule of God and man.

Britta wasn’t convinced video games cared about the rule of god. She was pretty sure there was no mention of video games in the Bible. Although there might have been a reference to the sin of microtransactions in the back.

Aim from the hip, the elite kobold reminded his men. They were very well disciplined, that much was obvious.

We have plot armour, said Dad. They can’t kill us if they need us to be part of the cutscene.

The ‘cutscene’ Dad was referring to appeared to be the scene of their execution. It was possible they would be rescued at the last minute, in true Hollywood style, but it would have to be soon. Like, really, really soon.

There were four kobolds with slings. They had started spinning them at the waist, like they were spinning keychains.

I thought we had a truce, shouted Dad. Then he dropped his voice. I’ll keep them distracted, you get ready to teleport us out.

Okay, said Britta. But I think you should know they have very good hearing.

The kobolds were looking at them with foreboding stares, their dog-like ears perked up and twitching.

A commotion from somewhere close by distracted everyone. There was shouting and screaming coming from another tunnel leading out of the temple. There was a flurry of activity in the doorway, and then wounded kobolds were rushed in on stretchers. They were covered in blood and screaming in agony.

It would have been the perfect time to get out, but Britta was curious about what was going on. She wasn’t that worried about dying. It wasn’t like levelling up was a focal point of her gaming experience.

Look, look, said Dad. You need help. We can help you. We know magic. He was overselling how useful they’d be in a battle, but it was as good a play as any.

She understood his desperation to get something out of this rather than just run away. To have come this far and make no progress was very annoying. It was hard to believe the devs had planned all this just to kill off the players before anything happened.

What would be the point of that?

Normally, I would accept your offer, said the elite kobold. But you are accused of using fire magic.

So? said Dad. What’s wrong with fire magic?

Even with all the running around and frantic taking care of the wounded, Dad’s words sent a shock wave through the kobolds. Britta could feel the hostility towards them growing.

Fire magic ends life, said the High Priest, watching from the altar. No one comes back once they are dust.

It seemed using fire was considered unethical because you couldn’t be resurrected from a pile of ashes. Setting fire to someone meant permadeath.

Britta understood, and was sympathetic. If they had a practical reason for their beliefs, then that was fair enough. But Britta hadn’t actually used fire. She was innocent.

I am not a fire mage, she said. If I was, there’d at least be a few scorch marks. Look at his clothes.

I swear what I said was true, said her kobold-accuser whose clothes were in an entirely unscorched condition. I know what I saw with my own eyes. I was there. He was getting quite upset with people doubting his word. Britta felt a bit bad.

Quiet, boomed the elite kobold. He turned towards the High Priest. Is she speaking the truth?

The shaman raised his hands. He had a staff in one, the top of which was glowing. Could he detect lies? Technically, everything Britta had said was true. She wasn’t a fire mage, and she hadn’t cast Fireball on anyone. Technically.

She speaks the truth, said the shaman.

A wave of relief passed through her.

Then you can help, said the elite kobold. As soon as you sign this.

The air in front of her shimmered and something appeared. It was as big as the status screen, but it was very different. Lots of writing, and a place for her to sign. It appeared to be a contract.

There was a lot of writing, and it got smaller the further down the page you went.

Do you have— Britta pointed at the screen, which was only visible to her.

Yeah. Dad was staring at nothing, the way players did when they were looking at their status screen. They expect us to sign this?

Britta’s natural inclination was to not read any of it. The first paragraph, which at least had reasonably large text, was written in extreme legalese. The way they wrote things when they didn’t want you to understand what you were agreeing to.

She forced herself to read it, but by the time she reached the end of the paragraph, she couldn’t remember what the first part had said.

I think it wants us to sign on as mercenaries, said Dad, his eyes still staring into space, moving from side to side. We’re under their command, and have to follow all their laws and rules.

Are their laws and rules any different from ours? asked Britta. It was something of a spurious question since she wasn’t entirely sure what rules she was supposed to be following already.

It doesn’t say, said Dad. He flicked his finger in the air, scrolling through the contract.

She didn’t even know if their contracts were the same. She had another glance through hers.

Sign it, said the elite kobold. He was being pushy, another indication that not everything here was kosher.

No, said Dad, I don’t think so. We aren’t going to sign this.

Then you will die, said the elite, in an unnecessarily deep voice.

I don’t think that’s in your best interests, said Dad. You need us. You aren’t going to win the way you’re going. He looked around, frowning at what he saw.

More injured kobolds had been brought in. The previously wounded were having to get out of their beds so the more seriously wounded could take them. The shaman healers went from patient to patient, casting spells and giving potions. The effects were limited. No one jumped up, ready to go back to the fight. It was a slow process where the healing magic started them back on the road to recovery, rather than provide a miracle cure.

The High Priest tended to those who had died, but they didn’t come back at full health. They were weak and unsteady. What they needed, after their visit to the afterlife, was a nice long rest. But there was nowhere to put your head down.

You can’t go on like this, said Dad. You aren’t strong enough. You’re just kobolds.

Now he was trying to upset them, which didn’t seem the best way to win them over. The soldiers still guarding them — there were fewer of them now — bristled.

Everyone knows kobolds are at the bottom of the pecking order, Dad continued. Kobolds, goblins, orcs, ogres, trolls. You have weak magic, poor gear, and you aren’t very strong. Now the kobolds around them looked like they were in the final stages of deciding where to strike first. But... what you do have is good teamwork, good training, and... He tapped the side of his head. You know how to make plans. What you need is a little more firepower. We can help with that. Our magic is stronger. But we won’t sign ourselves into indentured service for the rest of our lives.

Was that what the contract said? She looked at it again, but her head hurt after reading a couple of lines. How did the kobolds even explain the invisible contracts they were asking to be signed? RIP immersion, as Dad would say.

And what if they signed, and then broke the contract? What was the penalty? And who would enforce it? The game?

What she would have liked to have done was take a screenshot, and then go over the contract later, checking it for unfair demands and loopholes. Of course, every other time she had done something like that, the document she meant to check just sat in a folder on her computer desktop, unopened.

More casualties were brought in. The room was really filling up now.

Banshees have taken over the eastern wing, someone called out.

The contract in front of her disappeared. She readied herself to teleport out. A new contract appeared. This one was a lot shorter.

Okay, okay, this is better, said Dad.

Was this some kind of negotiations mini-game? Try to get the best deal before you go into battle?

She read through the revised agreement. There were still quite a few requirements they had to agree to. The first was not to attack any kobolds, now or ever. They were also not to remove any items from the mines without express permission. Anything they found while in the mines was property of the kobolds. Basically, they were being told to keep their hands to themselves. Obey orders in combat. No going off on their own. No bringing in unvetted companions. No spellcasting without authorisation. The final requirement was to not talk about anything that happened in the mines with anyone. Even the kobolds had an NDA.

It still seemed a bit unnecessary. Shouldn’t they just join up against a common foe, fight side by side, and then divide the spoils? Britta suspected they’d had some bad experiences in the past, and now wanted all agreements on paper. Or not on paper, but written down.

Let’s get rid of this stipulation we follow all orders from an officer or priest. We reserve the right to not act if we think the idea is stupid. We’ll be consultants. You can take our advice or not. We’ll agree to do as we’re told, or not, on a case by case basis.

The contract changed again. Dad was getting into it. He liked playing tedious games where you advanced a centimetre at a time.

Yes, this is more like it, said Dad, scratching his chin as he read over the newest contract. I’m ready to sign.

Britta looked at her contract. She had to agree to not hurt kobolds if she could possibly help it. She could only take things that didn’t have a kobold stamp on them (she didn’t even know what a kobold stamp looked like), and she was to receive payment in silver ore at the end of each day she survived. All ore was to be returned in the event of her death.

Dad seemed to think it was okay, so she signed at the bottom by hitting the Yes button.

They’ve broken through the defences! screamed a kobold as he ran through the temple and out the other end. They’ve broken through! His voice floated back to them as he ran down the corridor. "We’re all doomed.

Chapter Two

The options presented on the opening day broadcast had been to join the Empire or the Rebels. Now it seemed there were other, temporary options.

You could sign up as a mercenary for any group that was willing to pay, including monsters.

Britta wasn’t sure of all the details, and couldn’t really be bothered to look into them, but it felt like it would make for a more level playing field. You didn’t have to stick to the traditional teams you would normally be expected to play for. Which was good. The only question was, why hadn’t they told anyone?

So far, people had attempted the Korlath Mine dungeon and given up when it proved too hard. No one had bothered trying to find another, less violent solution. No one, apart from Britta, knew it was possible.

If they wanted people to discover these things for themselves, that was an admirable approach for a games developer to take, but not necessarily one that was good for business.

Then again, they were only a couple of days into the release, and most people were still getting to grips with the world. Perhaps it was just APE’s way of easing people into the game.

First, they would faff around trying to figure out what they were supposed to do. Then they would get a level or two under their belts by doing some basic farming and grinding. And then they’d be shown how you could approach a problem like the mines from more than one direction. It would certainly feel more rewarding that way.

Until, that is, the internet was filled with walkthroughs and strategy guides, and then everyone would follow the same route. Or would they? Britta realised the reason for constantly updating dungeons and quests as soon as they were completed. No point writing a guide to a dungeon that no longer existed in the same format.

Once they dealt with the banshees (assuming they did), players coming in after them would have something new to deal with. It was a resource-heavy approach. The devs would have to keep coming up with new content as soon as the old stuff was complete. She started to understand why they were making it so hard.

Cool, said Dad, showing off the tattoo of a kobold head that had appeared on the back of his hand.

Britta had one, too. Isn’t it like a slave brand?

No, said Dad. No, no. I’m sure it’s just a temporary way to remind them we’re on their side.

Britta hoped it would be more effective than the kobold ring she’d been given. Most of the kobolds she’d tried to use it on had just assumed she must have stolen it.

You will go to the front and engage the enemy, said the elite kobold. But first, you will be blessed by the High Priest.

Blessing equals buff, I hope, Dad said from the side of his mouth.

They can hear you, Britta reminded him.

I know, I just like talking like this, he continued from the side of his mouth. We’re among fighting troops now. Got to play the part.

By talking funny?

If it’s good enough for Sly Stallone, it’s good enough for me.

I have no idea who that is, said Britta, as they kneeled in front of the High Priest. He began chanting.

"Urgh, you kids today. The man was an action star par excellence. It was always a worry when Dad started speaking superlatives in a foreign language. It meant an even higher level of drivel than normal. He was known for two of the greatest roles in twentieth-century movie making. Cobra and, of course, Tango from Tango and Cash."

The High Priest touched them both on the forehead, and Britta felt a warmth go through her. She quickly checked her status screen. All her attributes had gone up by one, except for charisma. No great loss there. Her health was up to 65 HP, which wasn’t bad.

How many HP do you have now? she asked Dad.

Six, he said, looking pleased with himself. Why how many... actually, don’t tell me.

You may touch the altar, said the High Priest.

They both patted it like it was a friendly dog.

Checkpoint.

At least they could come back here if they died. They stood up and turned around. Now they just had to deal with the banshees.

A kobold came running in with a basket of mushrooms. They were orange with black stripes, and looked a bit slimy.

Sir, the mushrooms.

Ah, right, said Dad. I’ll take those. He grabbed ten mushrooms out of the basket and squeezed them into Britta’s backpack. That left her with no room for treasure. We’ll take care of this later. Don’t forget to remind me, he said to Britta.

Did they still need to bring the kobolds food to win them over? They had a contract and everything now. Then again, they could still use the mushrooms to complete the mushroom quest, whatever that was. Or she could just throw them away if they found something more valuable, assuming it was something small enough to fit.

Okay, said Dad, where’s the battle?

The kobold soldiers who had been guarding them now formed an escort to take them to the frontlines.

By the way, said Britta, the banshees are undead monsters, aren’t they?

Yes, but don’t worry, said Dad, we should be able to handle low-level mobs between us. And by us, I mean mainly you. He sniggered to himself. They won’t know what hit them.

Only, my spells don’t work against the undead. They don’t believe my illusions.

Oh, said Dad, not laughing anymore. Hey, guys, we might need to rethink this. Guys?

The kobolds ignored him and kept marching, driving the two mages ahead of them.

They were swiftly led through a number of tunnels, Dad and Britta forced to be in front. Dad kept complaining and trying to get the kobolds to stop for a second, but the momentum was on their side.

Then the sounds of explosions reached them. Long whistling shrieks followed by a boom that shook the walls of the tunnel. Dust and debris rained down. Dad stopped complaining and started running. He was eager to get out of the tunnels before they collapsed.

The sounds got louder and were now intermingled with shouts and screams. The kobold escort dropped their torches, and they were running in near darkness as they approached a faintly glowing opening up ahead.

They slowed as they reached the opening, the noise now deafening, the explosions strong enough to make it hard to stay upright.

There was a cavern ahead, with a bridge across it. Britta recognised it as the room before the vault. It looked different now. The bridge was permanent for a start, made of stone with railings along the side, and no pressure pads to retract it.

Rocks and rubble had fallen from the walls and roof of the cavern, and kobolds were hiding behind them on this side. The ones who weren’t lying dead, that is.

On the other side of the bridge, the large door was open. Hooded figures floated through it. They had long robes on and their heads were covered, so it wasn’t possible to see what they looked like.

Are they the banshees? asked Britta.

I guess so, said Dad.

There were six of them floating about on the other side, seemingly at random. Then one came forward, gliding across the bridge. It let out a piercing scream that made ripples in the air.

A large chunk of rock in the wall shattered, sending smaller rocks flying in all directions. Kobolds dived out of the way, but many were hit.

The hitbox on those sonic blasts is insane, said Dad in an awed voice.

Britta had no idea what he meant, but she assumed he was impressed by the banshee’s firepower.

Now! Throw! shouted a booming voice.

Small bottles were thrown by the kobolds. Many went sailing into the chasm either side of the bridge. A few hit the bridge and smashed, spraying liquid around.

The banshee who had let rip with its sonic blast retreated back to its own side.

The soldiers around Britta suddenly surged forward, taking her and Dad with them. Fortunately, they weren’t heading for the bridge. They veered right and stopped behind a large boulder.

There was a small camp here. Larger kobolds, more elites, were huddled around an even bigger kobold. The king.

Britta had encountered him before. He was wearing full armour and had a large sword that didn’t look like it had been made out of pots and pans.

The group turned as Britta and Dad were brought forward.

What is this? demanded the king. His elite guards sneered at the new arrivals.

One of their escorts stepped forward and whispered something. As he spoke, the king and his men occasionally looked up, their expressions varying between surprise and doubt. No hint of welcome or relief.

There was an explosion across the other side of the cavern.

Return fire! shouted the king.

Britta turned to peek past the side of the boulder. More glass bottles were being launched.

What’s in the bottles? she asked one of the kobolds beside her.

Holy water, he said.

If that was an effective weapon against the banshees it seemed like they should have a pretty big advantage. They just needed water and a priest. They seemed to have plenty of both.

Throwing it in little bottles didn’t seem such a great idea, though. Most missed and even when they smashed open, the splash radius wasn’t very big. There had to be a better way.

I don’t get why the banshees don’t just swarm across the bridge and blow everything to pieces, said Dad.

The kobolds all glared at him like they were afraid the banshees might hear him and realise they’d been using the wrong strategy.

They’re blind, said the king. And what exactly can you do to help us for the exorbitant fee we’re paying you?

Apparently, the king wasn’t too happy with the deal his subordinates had made to hire two less than impressive mercenaries.

Um, said Britta, trying to think which of her spells would be good in this situation. She was coming up blank.

Let me just try something, said Dad. He leaned out and aimed his finger at one of the aimlessly wandering banshees. A streak of blue light shot out and hit the banshee in the back.

The banshee reacted like someone had tapped it on the shoulder. It turned around, hovering in the air, and then came rushing forward with others following. They let loose screams in Dad’s direction.

Everyone squeezed behind the boulder, covering their heads with their arms as the walls cracked and splintered. Stones the size of footballs fell around them.

The kobolds gave Dad nasty looks. The contract Britta and Dad had signed said they weren’t allowed to attack any kobolds. She hoped the kobolds weren’t allowed to attack them, either.

Return fire! shouted the king.

More bottles went flying into the air.

Dad took aim at one, and shot it. His Magic Bullet spell didn’t do much damage, but enough to break glass. And it was accurate. The bottle exploded mid-air, raining holy water down on the banshees.

The banshees didn’t run away. They huddled together and made sad whining noises.

Pull! shouted Dad.

Another bottle sailed through the air. Dad zapped it, dropping the holy water onto the banshees, who squeezed together into an even more convenient target.

See? said Dad, like this had been his plan all along.

The king and his men were stunned for a second, and then they charged towards the cowering enemy.

Oh no, said Dad. They’re going to steal all my kills. He ran after them, shouting, My XP! My XP!

Britta found herself alone. Everyone else was so keen to press their unexpected advantage that they’d gone storming across the bridge, leaving her behind.

She didn’t mind. She wasn’t really in the mood to stab anyone. Dad had picked up an unbroken bottle of holy water and was dousing his dagger with the contents as he ran. He was in the mood.

Did I miss anything? asked the shade.

Britta didn’t even jump. Where have you been?

"Mapping the floor, like you ordered me to."

They both knew she couldn’t order the shade to do anything. She opened her map. The entire floor was now shown, apart from whatever was beyond the door on the other side of the bridge.

What about over there? she pointed across the bridge.

Can’t go through there, said the shade.

Because it’s blocked off? Maybe they needed to unlock that area by defeating the banshees.

No, said the shade. Because I’m scared.

Very wise, said N-28, appearing next to the shade.

This time Britta did jump. Why are you here?

He looked the same as the last time she’d seen him. Tall and blond, and wearing the same shirt (unbuttoned to the navel) and trousers she’d suggested. He looked like he’d just come from shooting an advert for Hugo Boss cologne.

It’s very exciting, he said, not sounding excited at all. A possible world’s first victory. No one’s got this close before.

Britta peeked out again. Dad and the kobolds were herding the banshees towards the door. At close range, the bottles of holy water were more effective. You didn’t even have to throw them, just take out the stopper and pour the liquid on the banshees.

Every time one of the banshees tried to turn around from their huddle to let rip one of their screams, they got a faceful of holy water, sending them back into the pack.

It was hard to get the banshees moving in the right direction, though. And little screams would make it out, blowing a kobold off his feet and slam him into the wall.

Dad was poking and prodding where he could, but there were no dead banshees yet. Then he stood still with a bottle of holy water in his hands, mumbling something.

Of course, you can’t be here for this.

What do you mean? said Britta.

World’s firsts get announced server-wide, said N-28. Your name would be known to everyone. We’d rather that not happen.

He had a point. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile. You want me to log out?

It’s a bit late for that, said N-28. You already have partial credit for whatever happens here.

Can’t you just remove my name from the records?

That’s not how we do things, said N-28, in the most pompous manner possible.

Then what are you suggesting? she said, starting to get annoyed with this super-smooth ass.

I’m not here to tell you what to do, he said, doubling down on the pompous. What you do outside of your obligated twelve minutes is up to you. But the banshees are going to be very hard for you to defeat. Very hard.

What he meant, Britta presumed, was that he would make sure the banshees would not lose here, meaning there’d be no world’s first, and no announcement with her name on it.

Everyone back, said Dad. He rolled the bottle he’d been holding, which was now blinking red, into the banshee scrimmage. And then he ran.

The kobolds saw the blinking light, and the man who made it running away, and decided it would be best to do likewise.

The bottle exploded. A proper explosion, like a bomb. Dad had used his Bomb spell, which normally took too long to prime to be useful in a fight, but with the enemy too busy to notice him — it probably helped that they were blind — he’d managed to set it up.

Rags floated down from above. There appeared to be nothing else of the banshees left.

Yes! shouted Dad. Level 2! Woo hoo!

Dad had killed them all, and he’d levelled up.

There was a pause, and then the kobolds all cheered. Followed by screams as more banshees came streaming out of the door.

The kobolds charged back across the bridge, along with Dad.

What if it’s just him? asked Britta. He can get his name on the scoreboard, right?

It would be better if he wasn’t alone. A solo player finishing first looks a bit... suspect. We don’t want him attracting the wrong kind of attention. Perhaps if he was in a party? It isn’t like there aren’t other players here he could team up with. N28 smiled, his teeth brilliant-white, and then he vanished like the Cheshire Cat.

Dad came lunging back to hide behind the boulder. Ho-ho, that was close. Now I’m Level 2, this shouldn’t be so hard. Let’s see what spells I can choose from.

I can’t be here, said Britta.

Mm, okay. He didn’t seem upset about losing her, but it wasn’t like she was a big asset in this fight. We’ve got the strat down, now. Shouldn’t be hard.

You won’t win.

That’s a bit pessimistic, said Dad, looking a bit hurt at her lack of faith in him.

They don’t want me mentioned when they announce a world’s first, and they don’t want you to do it solo. You have to find a party.

Oh, right, I see. But where am I going to find a... Oh, you mean the other guys. Okay, that can work. No problem. He straightened up and looked at the king. Your majesty, we need reinforcements. Hold the fort, I’ll be back in a bit.

The kobolds looked at him like he was crazy — they weren’t in a fort, for a start — but he had led them to a near-victory, so their faith in him had gone up, slightly.

Take two men with you, said the king.

No, it’ll be quicker if I go on my own. Don’t worry, I’ll be back. For some reason, he said it in a German accent. Britta didn’t ask why.

They scurried back to the tunnels, dodging between falling rocks.

I’m logging out, said Britta.

Okay, see you later. He went running off down the tunnel.

Britta woke up on her bed. Mum was sitting there, on her phone.

Anything happen? asked Britta. Any glowing?

No, said Mum. Feeling okay?

Fine. That was a relief. Maybe the whole glowing business was over. She sat up and wondered how Dad would do with the others. She didn’t have to wonder long. Once she’d left, he was able to start recording. The video went viral.

Chapter Three

Dad only emerged from his shed several hours after Britta had logged out. She had spent the time sorting out her school stuff and making sure she was up to date with everything, which hadn’t really been necessary. Next week was half-term, so she had the week to do this stuff but she found it relaxing to go through her files and tidy things up.

She also cleaned her hard drive and tossed the trash and temp files. Watching the available hard drive space go up was always a pleasing sight.

Dad was humming and grinning. The first hint of what he’d been up to was his refusal to say anything about what had happened once she’d left him. You’ll see, was all she could get out of him.

After eating and using the bathroom, he headed back to his shed. He reappeared a couple of hours later and was straight on the phone. He still wouldn’t tell her what was going on.

Only after several phone calls and some odd conversations where he agreed to lots of demands and gave numerous assurances, did he finally tell her about the video he had made.

Britta had more or less forgotten he could record gameplay. He couldn’t use it while he was playing with her, but as soon as she left, he could hit record, and he had. The delay had been in getting permission from APE to upload it.

They had