Almost a year later

It's been almost a year since I last posted.  I've been wondering whether I should take this blog down, leave it up with no posts or to start using it for something more interesting or useful.
I'm honestly not sure, but its something I'm thinking about. In the meantime It's been a very long time since I posted anything about writing.
Insanely the last time I posted an exerpt of anything was 5 years ago. I've written 2 whole books since then.
2 books I'm excited about. they're fantasy wild west books in a series I call Wild card.
The First book is called 'Gentleman' and here are the first couple of chapters:

Prologue

"Do you believe in magic?" The old card shark asked, shuffling the deck of cards in front of him. He split the deck and dropped it a piece at a time back into his hands. He wore a deep purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up to make sure that nobody thought that he was slipping cards up his sleeve - which was fine, that wasn't how he cheated anyway. He paired the shirt with a black waistcoat, black suit trousers and Oxfords.
"Time was; magic was real." He continued, splitting the deck in two and riffling the two halves together so that each card was only sandwiched by two others, a perfect shuffle. He pushed them together and then began dealing around the table. Two per person.
"And I'm not talking about simple sleight of hand. Card tricks or something." He punctuated the statement, as he finished dealing the cards, by making a popping motion with the deck and having a pair of cards leap out from two different spots in the middle of the deck. He caught them with two deft fingers and flashed the grinning jesters at the other players around the table. "New deck." He said "forgot to take the jokers out." He smiled to himself, pretending not to notice their expressions of childish wonder. The same expression that let him know that they had completely overlooked the fact that he had full control of the deck and what would be dealt from it.
"Sorry, where was I? Ah yes. Real magic. Not just card tricks." He paused, cocking his head to the side as he leaned forward to place the deck down on the table. "Though there was one card magician of note... but his were no simple tricks." He set down the deck, picked up his cards and sat back in his chair, a small smile on his face. "Let me tell you fellows about Eighteen-seventy-Eight's Wyrd west outlaw, Benjamin Wexley."

CHAPTER ONE

Passengers

Benjamin Wexley, also known as 'the Gentleman' sat in a window seat on the 11 am East bound train across the state of New Victoria going from the city of San Rojo in the west, through the countryside, stopping at several towns and eventually rounding down towards New Biggleswade, where the train would unload it's cargo before, finally heading on to Texas.
Or at least that was the plan.
Benjamin, Ben, had a feeling that things were going to go differently.
Ben was a tall man with light brown hair, cut to ear length and brushed into a side parting where his hair swept back behind his ears. He wasn't as rugged as some of the others he knew, for one thing he kept himself well shaved, but unlike many of the others he was handsome. He wouldn't be able to do what he did if he wasn't. He had grayish blue eyes that he'd often been told ‘sparkled mischievously’ and slim features with very little fat on them, though he wasn't large and muscular, simply toned and wiry.
He sat with his feet up on the opposite chair, absently shuffling a deck of cards and occasionally spinning a card around and letting it drop from the deck into his lap. He watched out the window as the countryside flew by, enjoying the sights, the smells and the sounds. He loved New Victoria, his home state. It was a little known state, nestled to the north west of Texas, east of New Mexico and south west of Oklahoma.
It was a simple land that prospered thanks in great part to the fertile earth, the gorgeous scenery and the black mountain at its center, looming over the town of Blackrock, with its treasure trove of obsidian.
There were a great many sources of magic throughout the world, but only a few sources of great magic, and the black mountain was one of them. Nobody understood it, many people feared it, but everyone could feel it.
When you stood near Blackrock you could feel the magic in the air. When you held the Obsidian birthed in the depths of the mountain you could feel it's potent power, but none had ever figured out how to access it.
People had learned to access different types of power, however. By Ben's estimation there were two major groups of magical power. External and internal.
Of the external magics there were four sub-types; ritual magic which used magic from the earth to perform a magical feat. Spiritual magic, which asked the spirits of the earth to perform the magic. Some argued that Spiritual and Ritual magics were the same, but with different levels of politeness, but Ben had never seen spiritual magic, so he had no basis for comparison.
There were also the sources of great magic, like Blackrock which felt like they should be able to be harnessed, but none knew how. Even Ben carried a piece of Blackrock's obsidian in case anyone ever figured it out. Lastly there was demonic magic, which allowed a person to do great and powerful magics with the help of a demon, but at terrible costs.
Of the Internal magics there was only two types; Spells, where a practitioner used words of power to craft their will into reality, using magic from within oneself as fuel. Spells had their advantages over the external types, most notably speed compared to rituals and the continued sanctity of your soul compared to demonic, but they certainly also had their disadvantages. When powering a spell from within your resources become limited. Comparing what you can do with a spell to a ritual is like comparing a match to a bonfire. There are some cases where the match has all the light and heat you need, and if you use it well it can be very versatile, but a bonfires always going to do everything a match can do, but longer and better.
Finally there’s Wild magic. Wild magic was special and unique to each person using it. Not everyone could use wild magic, it was something you were born with, not something you learned.
Ben had wild magic, and he had known a half dozen other people in his life who also held such powers. Each power was incredibly unique, incredibly personal. He, himself had never fully shared with anyone the extent of his power, and he was certain that none of the people he had met had ever let him in completely on what theirs could do.
Part of that was because it was personal. But a much bigger part was that nobody knowing gave you an edge.
One person that Ben had known had been born with the ability to transform any open liquid within ten feet of them into any other liquid. Blood, saliva, things like that she couldn't effect, but if you had her tied up and you went for a glass of whisky in front of her you can bet your ass it would be poison by the time it met your lips. Ben himself had once made a joke at her expense while they had been out drinking and his whisky hadn’t made it to his lips without transforming into water for the rest of the night.
Ben had a deck of magic playing cards. How magic was the deck? Well that would spoil the illusion now wouldn't it?
"West Camden station, coming up." Came the loud voice of the train conductor as he wandered up the train past Ben, towards the front.
West Camden was where Ben's associate and long time friend, Jay Clavijo would be getting on. Ben sat up and straightened himself out, lifting the cards off his lap - from the bottom up, the four aces, the four kings, the four queens and two of the jacks, in the same suit pattern of spades, diamonds, clubs, hearts. They were strange, Ben's cards. None of the face cards had anything on them, except for the letters and suit images in the corners. Save for the King of clubs which had the image of a large man, thick around the waist and arms, holding a pair of meat cleavers. Ben swept that card quickly into the stack and shuffled them all back into the deck, storing it away in the inside pocket of his jacket.
He flattened his shirt and jacket down, then did the same to his trousers and boots before reaching for his Stetson hat on the seat next to him and slipping it carefully up onto his head.
The hat was also special, not quite as special as his deck of cards, there was no wild magic in it, but it did have a number of ritual magic circles and runes and the like sewn into the inside. The thread used was black on the black hat, so it was hard to see, but if you tried to attack ben with any sort of mind altering magic it became very obvious as the runes, the symbols and the circle lit up a bright white.
Ben sat back in the chair and watched out the window as Camden Town rolled into view and the west Camden station slid up beside them. He watched Jay slide by as the train slowed, but didn't pay him much attention. Ben had already told him which carriage he'd be getting onto and where he'd likely sit. There was no need to signal Jay. It was better that nobody paid him any attention when all of this was said and done.
The train came to a hold and a few people got up to leave. Once they'd disembarked, Jay and about three others got on the train and found seats. Jay came over and sat down in the seat behind Ben's, close enough that they could chat, but not so close as to lead people to the correct conclusion that they knew each other, or that they were friends.
"G'mornin, Ben." He said quietly after a moment of sitting down. "Got about ten minutes before the train starts again if you want t' stretch yer legs or something."
Ben smiled and shook his head. "I'm fine, Spanish." He responded, omitting Jay's real name as they had agreed when in the planning stages. Ben's name was fine to be said allowed. His fame, his infamy was a big part of why people liked to bring him in on jobs, it masked everyone else. Put Benjamin 'The Gentleman' Wexley in the mix and people think it's a gentleman caper, when nine times out of ten he's just there as a favour to someone else.
This job, however was his. He'd brought Jay and his crew in on it to help out, but he would still be taking the heat from the sheriffs and the marshalls.
So Ben's name needed to be heard. People listened to his name, and like a conductor with his baton, he led them with it.
"Is everything else set up?" Ben asked.
Jay nodded, Ben caught only a fraction of movement in his periphery. "Yup." He added a moment later. "Bands all ready to play at breaker rock."
"Good."
"S'gonna be tight though." He said. "Not a lot of track between Breaker Rock and New Biggleswade. We miss the opportunity; we'll be in the middle of town surrounded by law and a train full of people who know we're there."
"Let's not miss the opportunity, then." Ben suggested.
Jay smiled to himself, "well when you put it like that..."
Ben smiled as well and added, "just make sure you're back at the cargo cabin when your guys arrive. You know your part, I'll do mine."
Jay nodded. "I hope so, Ben. I'm not really in the mood to spend the night in lock up and the morning in a noose."
"Don't worry so much, Spanish. We're all professionals here." Ben stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Besides, even if you and your boys do take too long the law won't have any idea what you're doing, they'll be too focused on me. That's the point, is it not?"
"True, but I don't exactly want to see you swinging either." Jay retorted.
Ben made a ‘psh’ sound, a dismissal. "Won't happen. The New Victoria Journal wouldn't stand for it. I sell that paper for them five days of the week with that awful Serial they write." He said. "I die, they lose their star. Who'd they replace me with? Graeme Lexington? 'The bladesmith'? What does that name even mean? It's nonsense. Does he make blades? Why not call it a blacksmith then?"
Jay let out a short snort of laughter and shook his head. "Alright. I think we're about to get moving. Any last notes for the plan?"
"You remember the meet location?" Ben asked, turning his head a little.
Jay nodded. "Raven's peak. Meet there, camp for the night and head away from each other to fence the goods in smaller portions."
"Then we're all set." Ben stated as the train began to move again, chugging out for the final stretch of the journey before New Biggleswade.
Jay and Ben stopped talking and both gave their attention back to the window. The next leg of the journey was a couple of hours. The first hour would be through farmland and fairly well ranged countryside, and then they would spend thirty minutes going through desert, and that was where Jay's gang would hit the cargo carriage.
Adrenaline pumped through Ben as he sat there in anticipation. He breathed slowly to try to calm his racing heart but it didn't help. He looked around the carriage at the other occupants.
Besides Jay and himself, Ben saw three couples, an older man and a woman that he guessed was in her thirties. The older man was a little round and held himself like a city banker. He looked out the window almost with disgust, as if he couldn't believe he had to be there.
The woman had long curly red hair tied up in a bun. She had just the right amount of curves and a youthful quality to her features. She was reading a pocket book while fanning herself. Ben smiled to himself, it was a cool and breezy seventy-seven degrees in Camden when they'd left. If she was too hot and requiring fanning now then she wasn't going to enjoy her summers in the state. Ben could recall a few times when he'd been a child when it had gotten up to one-ten, though it was more likely to hit closer to ninety. At least that’s what the papers said. Ben had never even seen a thermo-thing.
Ben moved his gaze to the first couple that caught his eye. They were actually the middle couple. Young, looked like they were in their early twenties. They had suitcases and were talking animatedly. They didn't look particularly wealthy, but their clothes, typical rancher outfits, looked crisp and new. Newly weds, Ben thought, off to try their luck building a ranch or a farm in south New Victoria where there had been calls to settle.
Next was a burly gentleman with a mousy looking young woman. Ben frowned looking at her, she cowed from the man, nodding and agreeing with whatever he said. Likely married, Ben knew it was none of his business, but he didn't think that they suited each other. He would be overbearing, she would spend the rest of her life afraid. Ben didn't like the idea of anyone spending their lives in fear, even less when that person was an innocent looking woman, like the one before him.
On the plus side, of the people in the carriage, this brute was the most likely to cause him trouble. He might get the opportunity to do the woman a favor.
Or the man might get the drop on him, knock him out and send him packing. You could never tell with things like this.
The last couple were wealthy sorts, a man and a woman that wore all the fanciest of clothes, carried very little, only a purse on her and a wallet on him. She was skin and bones, as if she had chosen to go on a hunger strike for women's suffrage, though he doubted that was the reason why she looked that way. The really rich ones always seemed to. Almost as if the more food you could afford the less you ate. It was a paradox.
He considered the couple for a long moment. He would need to take a moment to figure out what they did for a living. Some rich people worked honest jobs. Others lived off the backs of others. Ben didn't like robbing innocents that needed the money, but slave owners and the bastards who ran the San Rojo child labor factories could rot for all Ben cared, and he'd take their money while they did so.
Ben yawned and stretched, realizing that people watching had calmed his nerves significantly. He looked out the window and tried to pick up on some landmarks in the desert wilderness, eventually noticing a huge obsidian rock that arched over the track creating an improvised bridge for people to cross when there were trains passing.
Or people could have if there was anyone about. "We'll be hitting the rendezvous soon." Ben muttered.
He felt Jay nod. "I'll see you up at the cargo carriage when you're done playing with your fans."

CHAPTER TWO

Train Job

Jay stood up and left as the quiet sound of hooves on dirt grew louder outside the train. Ben watched and waited. First, for Jay to leave and make his way through the train to the front where the cargo carriage would be. Next, for the members of Jay's crew on horseback to come into view and then pass on by the carriage, going on up to meet him.
Then finally he needed to wait for people in his carriage to notice the horses and begin to make a fuss.
It was at this time, and this time only that Ben felt it was time for him to make himself known.
As the people on his carriage spoke animatedly and worriedly about what might be happening at the front of the train, Ben stood up and drew one of his revolvers from his inside jacket pocket, aimed it out of one of the trains windows and fired. The crack of the bullet firing drew everyone's attention and he smiled at his fellow passengers. "May I have your attention please!" He called out from the very back of the train.
All of the people in the carriage turned to look at him, fear and shock on their faces.
"Now, now, no need to be so scared. My name is Benjamin Wexley." The look of recognition on people's faces told Ben everything that he needed to know. "I see you've heard of me. Then I'm sure you know that you're in no danger, so long as you don't present a problem." He looked around at them and brought his gun back in to point up at the ceiling. Nobody responded. "I'm glad we can come together on this." He said walking forward. As he reached the rich couple he stopped and eyed them. "Mr and Mrs..."
The man, looking grumpy and inconvenienced, eyed Ben before letting out a sigh of exasperation. "I suppose you heard we'd be on the train from somewhere?" he asked, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "I'll certainly be whipping that boy when I get back, for letting our plans get into the hands of felons. How much are you being paid? I'll give you double to leave now."
Ben smiled warmly. "I'm sorry, sir but I have no idea who you are. I'll take the wallet, but I'm not so interested in anyone being whipped for poor luck. Might I inquire as to who exactly I have the pleasure of talking to?"
The man stared up at Ben. "I... I am Jack Caldwell." He said, clearly expecting a reaction from the name as he offered the wallet, but Ben didn't give him one. "Boy I own this railroad you're thieving on."
Ben nodded, raising his brows, impressed as he took the man's wallet. This particular railroad had been built on the backs of slaves, white men and black, tricked and bullied into their servitude. Ben had no compunctions about taking this man's money. He only wished he could take more, but he was not a killer, not unless he had to be.
He emptied the wallet and smiled at the man, handing it back. "In that case I thank you for this generous opportunity." He said, bowing low in mock respect before standing tall again. "And I assure you that your money is going to a good cause." He turned from the couple and continued up the carriage to the newlyweds, who had pulled a small handful of notes out from their belongings and were holding them towards Ben as he came close.
Ben smiled warmly at the pair of them and got down on one knee, close to them. He placed a hand over their wad of money and slipped one of Caldwell's ten dollar notes into their stack as he closed his hand around it, enclosing their hands as well and pushing the whole lot back towards them. "No, my friends. You'll need all of this for your new life down south." He said. They looked up at him in shock to which Ben simply smiled warmly. "Congratulations on your marriage. Are you looking to ranch or farm?"
"I-" the man stuttered. "Ranching, sir."
"Call me Ben." He told them. "Ranching's good work."
"Yessir- er, yes Ben. I worked on a ranch back up in Montopan."
"Well, mister..." Ben trailed off, offering the man an opportunity to give over his name.
"William, sir. William Stocks. Bill to my friends. And this is Abbey." The still somewhat terrified man said.
"Well, Bill and Abbey I wish you a great deal of luck. Ranching is good work but it's tough. You'll need people looking out for you." He told them, standing back up. "Try and get land near a man named Marcus Barrenden. He's good people. Tell him I sent you, he'll see you right. And a little tip from someone whose been all over New Victoria; if the cattle, or whatever livestock you go for; if it's got a fresh brand don't pay full price. If its an adult it's been rustled, if its a calf the rancher needs to get rid quickly and can't spend time haggling."
"Yes sir, thank you sir." Bill said. Ben wasn't sure the newlywed had taken in anything that Ben had said, but he was a nice guy all the same. If he was ever down south again he might check in on the boy. Either way he wouldn't be stealing from the couple today.
"Have a fine day, the pair of you." Ben said, tipping his hat and continuing past them to the lone woman.
She looked up at him with rosy cheeks and awe in her expression. Ben smiled at her and held out a hand. She tentatively placed her hand in his and he bent low, bowing to her and brushing his lips across the knuckles of her silk gloves. "Good day, miss." He said. "How are you doing today?"
"I-I-I'm well, sir. Mister Wexley." She responded.
"That's good." He offered. "On a trip to New Biggleswade or are you heading further?"
"New Biggleswade, Mister Wexley." She said. "I... Mister Wexley, I must tell you; this is truly an honor to meet you. My name is Mary Elizabeth-"
A memory sparked in Ben’s mind at the name and he cocked his head to the side. "Now, if you don't mind my asking; why does your name seem familiar to me, Miss Elizabeth."
"I-" She stuttered, blushing an even deeper shade of red. She looked away and mumbled something.
"Uh, Excuse me, miss Elizabeth?" He asked.
She let out a long breath, sighed and looked up at him, determination in her eyes and cheeks as bright as any Ben had ever seen. "I write the Gentleman Serials in the New Victoria Journal." She admitted.
Ben's brows shot up, remembering seeing her name across all of the articles he'd ever read about himself. "Well I'll be..." he said, looking her over more thoroughly, burning her into his memory as someone to know. "And here I thought I was the only Celebrity on this train." He smiled warmly at the woman and she appeared to calm a little. "I appreciate all of the positive fame you've given me over the years, Miss Elizabeth. If there's anything I can ever do for you do let me know."
"Oh! Um, actually, there is one thing, Mister Wexley." She said, hopping up onto her feet.
"Name it. And call me Ben. I reckon you know more about me than my own momma - God rest her soul. I should think you could call me by my name."
"Yes, Ben. And please call me Mary." She responded.
"Right you are, Mary. Now what is it that I can do for you."
She blushed again as she spoke her plea; "might I impose on you, Ben, once in a while to send me a letter about your adventures and what you've been up to. Or if there's anything you'd like me to talk about in your serial."
Ben grinned at her. "I think I can manage that."
"Thank you, sir." She grinned, her cheeks growing a deep red as she took his hand in hers and squeezing tight. "Send it to the newspaper, To Mary Elizabeth Care of the New Victoria Journal. That'll get it to me."
Ben nodded and reached into his inside pocket. He drew out a perfect and completely whole Fire Lily, clipped 4 inches down the stem. He handed to her, enjoying the look of wonder in her eyes. "I'll see you soon, Mary." He added. She sat back down, mumbling something through her shyness and sniffing in the flower.
He chuckled and moved on through the carriage to the older gentleman. "Good day Sir!" He said, lowering his gun to his side. "Might I ask what your business is, this side of New Victoria?"
The man huffed and ignored Ben, turning to look out the window.
Ben sighed, "Sir this'll be a lot easier if you just answer the question." He said, but again he didn't. Ben raised the gun back up to the main, pulling back the hammer. "You sure it's worth your life sir?"
At the click of the hammer the man jumped and looked around at Ben "You- you ruffian! You wouldn't dare! You barely touched the rest of them!" it was a New York accent. Out of towner, probably a lawyer, had business with someone nearby. He'd probably never been out to the Wyrd West before.
"Sir, so far you're the only one to give me any trouble." Ben said, deciding to rob the man only in that moment. "There was a chance that I wasn't going to rob you, sir. Not everyone deserves it, but I'm fairly certain that chance has gone."
"I won't give you anything." He said, "I have friends you know. Law men who will make you swing if you hurt me."
"Perhaps you do. Perhaps your friends will hunt me to the ends of the earth, catch me, kill me and prop my up for everyone to see, so they know what happens when people hurt their friends. Perhaps you’ll be thoroughly avenged; but you'll still be dead. Don't much help you for me to be caught later." Ben pointed out, leaning back against one of the seat backs to talk to the man. "I can assure you, Yankee, I don't want to shoot you, but I will. Then I'll get whatever money you have anyway. So just hand it over."
The man seemed to consider it for a long moment and then deflated only marginally. He'd given in, but didn't want to lose face. "Fine!" He grumbled. "Take my wallet, if only to make sure you don't do anything stupid and hurt one of the other passengers!" He pulled his wallet out and offered it up to Ben.
There was a slight smile to the man's expression as he handed it over and Ben could see why. Like Ben's hat it was covered in small patterns of letters symbols and runes, likely trapped against theft. Ben couldn't see all of the runes as they were covered by the man's fingers, but he could see enough to know that he'd be stunned if he touched the wallet. However he couldn't back down now.
Ben reached out and whispered "Veni hic." The paper money from the man's wallet flapped for a moment and then as if propelled by a great wind that only affected them, shot away from the man and into Ben's outstretched hand. His face fell in shock.
"Thank y' sir." Ben said, putting the money away in his inside pocket and tipping his hat to the man, moving onto the last couple, the burly man and the mousy woman.
"We ain't got nuffin'." The man said before Ben could say a word.
"I'm sure that's not true." Ben said. "While I'm certain you've not got manners, I'm sure there's something that you have. Each other for instance. Is that not so, miss..."
"Don't answer him, Beryl." The man said.
"No smarts either I see." Ben added quickly. "Miss Beryl. A lovely name." He sat against the back of the opposite seat, leaning his elbow against the top and resting his gun hand on top of his opposing forearm to aim it at the man. "Is this your husband, Beryl?"
"I said don't-" the man started again.
"I'm not talking to you, sir." Ben interrupted sharply. "The lady can speak all she wants. Now miss, is this your husband?"
She shook her head. "My brother, sir."
Ben raised his brows in surprise. "Your brother?"
"Yes, sir. Please don't take offense at his antics, sir, he's just protective." She said. This time the man didn't tell her to stop.
Ben frowned. It wasn't often that he misjudged a person. He was good at reading people, but perhaps this time... "very well." He said, lowering the gun. "Where are you two off to?"
"I'm off to meet my future husband, sir, and my brothers along to help me should I need it." She explained.
Ben nodded. "Well then I wish you both well." He said, standing up and stepping up to the door out of the carriage. He turned to look at the passengers and pulled a gun belt from his inside pocket before wrapping it around his waist and depositing the gun in it.
"It's been a pleasure, all of you. I will now be stepping out of the carriage and disconnecting your train car from the rest. You'll slow to a stop and be collected in a few hours. Worry not; we're close to town now. I apologize for the inconvenience but I can't have you following me." He smiled at them and bowed low. "Good day!" He called to them before stepping back out of the carriage and hopping over to the next one. As soon as he landed he spun, knelt down and pulled the pin out from the train and the previous carriage instantly began to drift away.
He turned and continued on into the next carriage. The train wasn't huge, three passenger cars, a luggage car, two cargo cars the coal car and then the locomotive at the front. Ben had started in the back passenger car to try and keep everyone's attention towards him rather than at the front where Jay and his gang were working.
He stepped onto the middle cart and nodded to the passengers as they looked back at him, eyes wide with fear. "Good day, all. My name is Benjamin Wexley." He called out and began his way down the carriage as he had in the previous one, chatting to everyone, stealing from those who deserved it and helping - or at least not assailing - those who were innocent. Each time he took something he put it into his inside jacket pocket, but at no point did it ever seem to get full. He even managed to spirit away several things that didn't seem like they ought to fit in the pocket, like his gun belt or the Remington Model 1875 6 shot revolver that now rested in it.
The middle carriage was a little busier so it took him a little more time than the first, but he got through it and gave them the same speech at the end about unhitching them from the train before disappearing into the final carriage.
The final passenger car only had three groups, another young couple, a small group of men that looked like priests and a lone blonde man sat at the back of the carriage, staring out the window. None of them were paying him any attention, so Ben assumed that they hadn't heard the commotion of the previous carriages, or they'd ignored it. The gun shot was a while earlier after all.
Ben reached into his jacket's outer pocket and withdrew a small pocket watch to check the time. Jay should have finished up with breaking into the cargo cars and would already be in the process of emptying them. He had to make this last carriage quick or he’d miss his opportunity to ride off with the others.
He drew the revolver, aimed it out the window and fired. "Good Day, sirs, madam. My name is Benjamin Wexley." He watched as their expressions went from shock and fear to curiosity. Except for the blond man. He barely flinched and he didn't look around. Ben frowned slightly, eyeing the man and made the decision to keep an eye on him, be aware of what he was doing at all times.
Ben continued into the carriage moving first to the young couple to sit down opposite them. He rested the gun on his knee, not threateningly, but pointed at them so they were aware that doing something other than what he wanted would be foolish. "Good day, sir, ma'am. On your way into New Biggleswade?" He asked.
"Yes, Mr. Wexley. My wife and I have been visiting family in San Rojo. We're on our way home." The man said, nervously.
"Had a good time, I hope?" Ben asked.
"No, sir." The young lady piped up. "My sister was very sick. We were visiting her for the last time."
Ben nodded. "I see." He said. "I'm sorry for your loss."
The couple bowed their heads respectfully and Ben stood up. "Enjoy the rest of your journey." He said, walking further down the carriage to the three priests. Ben reached into his inside pocket, ignoring the priests as they cringed away, and drew out a silver dollar. He flipped it to one of the priests. "For your donation box."
"But- you're not going to rob us?" the one who had caught the coin asked.
"Not on principal. Never rob a priest or a child. Unless the priests like one of them that don't obey their own rules, uses an' abuses folk. But at that point I'm not sure we can still call them priests, can we now?"
"I... I suppose not, Mr. Wexley." The priest responded, looking down at the coin. He looked back up. "Sir, might I offer you some advice?"
"Always appreciate tips and tricks from a man of the cloth, sir. Go right ahead."
"Stop this, now. Leave this life behind. Be a good man. Stop stealing and lead a good and decent life."
"Ah, padre. If only it were that simple." Ben smiled, "Now have a good day."
He stepped away from the priests and continued down the carriage to the last man. The blond man. He was very thin, but muscular, with heavy bags under his eyes and an almost dead expression. He wore black jeans and a black shirt with heavy boots, but no gun belt.
"How you doing today, mister..."
The man didn't look to him, he continued to stare out the window, but he did speak. "The light of this land has gone out." He spoke with a Welsh accent, continuing to stare out at the land.
Ben eyed him. What he'd said... it was strange. The sort of thing you hear from soothsayers and false psychics. Metaphors wrapped in similes. It made Ben uncomfortable just looking at him.
"Okay..." He said. "I'm just going to leave you be, here." He stepped away from the man, brow furrowed as he puzzled the words together. It didn't matter of course, and it didn't matter that he hadn't robbed the man; that wasn't the point of all this after all. It was to get noticed and draw the attention away from the front car as he unhooked all of the passenger carriages, and he'd done that.
He stepped up to the exit of the last carriage and opened the doors. The blond man's words had annoyed him so much that he'd lost his train of thought and didn't even explain to the passengers what he was doing. He jumped across to the luggage car and pulled the pin from between the two carriages, watching as the passenger carriage began to slow and fade away behind them.
He let out a tired sigh but smiled. It was a job well done. Now all he had to do was get up to the cargo car with Jay and help unload the goods to the riders.
He frowned, realizing only now that he couldn't hear the horses. The thunder of hoof beats should have been almost deafening, ten men either side of the carriage and an extra pair of horses for Jay and Ben? But no, it was only the sound of the train.
Ben cursed and stepped out to the side, leaning out between the carriages. There were no horses riding alongside the train. He stepped back in and leaned out the other side. Still no horses. Had they left without him? "Those assholes!" Ben muttered, anger and shock registering within him. He pulled open the door to the luggage car and marched inside, crossing it and coming out onto the next car. He jumped over to the cargo car and kicked the door open, stepping inside.
Blood.
Limbs.
Heads.
Death.
The room had no cargo in it, but it was not empty. The walls were covered in runes and symbols painted in blood. The floor was an inch deep with blood and pieces of dismembered people, spread out and piled into specific locations with black, still burning candles stuck on top of them. The one closest to the right hand wall of the train car was not lit, and the pile in the centre didn’t have a candle on it at all.
Ben's eyes went wide, darting around the room to each of the features, to each of the piles of body parts, until his eyes settled on the one in the very centre; Jay.
Ben's legs went weak and he fell onto his knees, dropping into the blood and throwing up, emptying his stomach down to the bile into the cargo car. He panted, breathing deeply as he looked up at Jay's remains. A darkness emanated from the car, from the ritual. Whatever had happened here... it was dark magic. Black Magic.
As he stared at Jay's remains the door at the other end of the car opened. A woman stood there. She was of average height, but that was the extent of her averageness. She had the dark skin of the natives of America, long black hair and an athletic build. She wore the clothes of her people and carried many interesting looking things with her, including a bow with what looked like a small dog's mummified head hanging from it.
She looked in at him and then she made an exclamation that Ben could only assume was a curse. She turned on her heel and ran, slamming the door closed and disappearing from sight.
"No..." Ben growled. She had killed his friend. She would not get away with her evil magics! He leapt up and ran for the door, slowing momentarily as he passed Jay's remains to keep himself from retching and then he kicked his way out of the door. A rush of wind blew into the room and sent his hat flying off his head and back inside. He ignored it and moved to the sides of the car. He saw to the north a lone figure riding away on a horse. He cursed and kicked the railing on the side of the train, before looking up ahead of them.
New Biggleswade was quickly riding up towards them. He looked down at himself covered in blood. The blood of the gang. The blood of his friend... He retched again, spewing what remained of his bile up onto the car floor. He looked terrible. Like he'd done the killings. He had to get off the train before they got any closer. He looked up at the town again and then back to the cargo car. He shook his head one last time and then leapt from the train into a bush.

I do hope you enjoyed that. I wrote it in a month for Nanowrimo in 2018 and I've been editing it since. I have a second book written and a rough idea of the whole series up to book 6

Anyway,

Hope to be more up to date soon.

 - James

Drawtube

Experience

They say 'write what you know' and for the longest time I disagreed with that. As a person who writes fantasy and science fiction and occasionally crime novels (with the aforementioned fantasy and science fiction sprinkled in) it's always seemed strange to me that I shouldn't write what I don't know. I don't know how to create fire out of thin air using nothing but my mind and some unseen force, but I've written about it. I've never lead a military space ship and yet I have a fairly unsuccessful but well received short story on amazon kindle about just that thing.
In the past few years I've come to understand this phrase a little better. While there are elements of stories that may not be something that you know, there is always something that you can. Characters, conversations, relationships, whether you have space ships or pyromancers you still have simple humanity.
But thats not what I'm writing about today.
I've had an idea for a while and I've written pieces of it, but the more I write the more I wonder if I'm even able to. If I'm even suited to. The story I'm talking about is Game on, the murder mystery about a games designer. It's funny, because this is the closest to my life I've ever writen, and yet its probably the most difficult to write.
When I started work on it I decided to make the lead a woman, which instantly lent a significant amount of history and controversy to the book, which makes it so much harder to write. Theres a part of me that doesn't want to write it, but another part that REALLY wants to write it because I think it'll be good.
I'm not sure why I'm writing this, can you tell?
I guess it's just interesting that the closest I've come to writing what I know is also the furthest I've been from writing what I know.
I'm still struggling with writing in general at the moment, but I hope that one day this project gets the time it deserves. And when it does, I already know that I'll solve my worries about misrepresenting the women of the games industry by having the women in the industry that I know read it first.
Hopefully I wont offend them too much.

I did a thing

Recently I read Terry Pratchett's 'The Colour of Magic' for the first time, and then re-read Good Omens (the first and up until the Colour of Magic, only Pratchett I'd ever read) having bought the book for a friend who was also reading it and loved it.
Then I felt like writing, so I wrote a thing, and I think I like it, btu I dont have any idea what to do with it or where to go with it or... well anything else.
So I thought I'd share it with you lovely people (and the rest of you), so here it is. I'm not sure what it's called, currently it's just 'A thing I did'.

Contrary to popular belief it wasn't demons or the devil who ended the world. It wasn't even Angels or God who kicked off the big one. It was man. A man. More specifically Gene Madison of Wisconsin. In his defence, he didn't know he was going to do it, nor did he have any idea after it happened. He was not made aware of his mistake at any point up until about an hour after he died at the ripe old age of eighty-two, during a passing conversation with an angel named Atanta and a reaper named Madison - who found it extremely interesting if unimportant that they shared a name, as it had never happened to her before. Nor was anyone else for that matter, as his error was only the initiation of events, the full consequences would not be reached for a great many millions of years.

It is, of course, difficult to imagine a man ending the world and not having any knowledge of his actions. One would expect big flashing lights, or the heavenly trumpets, at least a funny feeling, but Mister Madison had none of that. He didn’t open a secret crypt or perform a ritual, or even make a pact with a celestial being. No, all mister Madison did was say one word, an ancient word in ancient Angelic - the language used by both Angels and Demons before the greatest of great rebellions. The word that was chosen to signal the beginning of the end.

To be fair to Mister Madison, he didn’t even really say it. He sneezed it. The word isn’t something that particularly lends itself to the category of ‘things a human can say’, at least not ‘things a human can say, intentionally’. It was simple happenstance that the noise Mister Madison made when he sneezed sounded identical to the signal.

It’s also worth noting that this was widely regarded, by the celestial and metaphysical communities to be most unfair.

But this isn’t a story about Gene Madison, for his role played out long ago. It isn't about the Angels or the demons who would fight for supremacy. It's not about God or Lucifer because, let's face it, those two drama queens get enough attention as it is. It's not even about humans and humanity.

No, this is a story about death. Not the abstract concept but the person, or people to be accurate. Death incorporated.

This is a story about the end of days and the work of a few members of a much larger whole.

“I don’t see why we have to be involved.” Said Kingsley, sitting on the third bench from the park York Bridge entrance to Regent’s Park, one of the ones in front of the duck pond that didn’t have ducks in it. “I mean, We’re not even management, why should we get involved?”

Fitch, Kingsley’s counterpart on the bench, the one throwing bits of bread out for the lack of ducks, shrugged and looked over at him. “It’s because we know how to do it. We’ve been doing it for the longest, except for the boys over in the middle east of course, but they’re overworked as it is.”

“But I like what I do. I don’t want to have to stop doing it to teach a new generation, do I?” Kingsley argued, sitting forward as a business man in his early forties started down the path towards them. Kingsley checked his watch quickly. “I think this is your boy.” He said.

“Hm?” Fitch responded, looking up from the ducklessness to the business man. “Oh, thank you. I’ll be right back.”

The business man walked up the path towards them and Fitch stood up. He walked forwards, as if getting closer to the pond and brushed past the man. The business man felt a momentary chill, then for a second he forgot precisely what he was doing. He paused and looked around as he tried to figure it out, but a moment later it all returned to him. He shook his head and continued on his way while Fitch returned to his seat.

“You get it?” Kingsley asked.

Fitch looked over at his friend and raised an eyebrow, holding up a small golden bottle containing the day’s soul collection. “I got it.”

At that point in the day - eight-thirty in the morning - he had collected a total of six souls from people who wouldn’t survive the night.

Kingsley nodded. “How do you think he’ll buy it?” he asked.

“I don’t like to speculate.” Fitch responded, secretly deciding that the man would walk into traffic while being self obsessed.

“Yes you do.” Kingsley responded, rolling his eyes. “I reckon he’ll get stabbed for his phone or something. Wealthy guy like that walking through a park like this one?”

In point of fact neither Kingsley nor Fitch were right. The business man, one Michael Marionette would later return to the park to feed the ducks, but finding that there were none he would lean over the pond to see what exactly Fitch was feeding only to fall in and discover that it was both deeper than it looked and easy to sink to the bottom.

“What were we talking about?” Fitch asked, picking up the bread crumbs again.

“Why we have to return to headquarters to train the new recruits.” Kingsley supplied. “Why do we even have new recruits?”

“You know why.” Fitch responded, ripping open the paper bag and throwing the rest of his bread crumbs onto the floor at his feet. “It’s kicked off, hasn’t it?”

“I thought we all agreed that it was just a sneeze and that wasn’t fair.” Kingsley responded.

“We did. So did the demi gods, the celestials and the Managing directors, but the Angels and the Demons are still counting it and we’re going to need more bodies to collect the souls when it all gets going.”

“And when will it all be kicking off?” Kingsley asked.

“It already has kicked off. When Gene Madison said-”

“You know what i mean. When will it all be kicking off properly, when will we be needed?” Kingsley interrupted.

“Who knows? Certainly not me. I’d guess not for a while, though.” Fitch responded.

“So I ask again, why do we have to go back? If it’s not for a while, surely they can find someone else to do it closer to the time.” Kingsley grumbled.

“I said ‘I’d guess not for a while’.” Fitch shot back. “Could be any time. So we need to head back to the Head office after lunch.”

“If it could be ‘any time’ we might already be too late anyway.” Kingsley argued. “Might aswell stay here and leave it.”

Fitch rolled his eyes. “If you want to be the one to explain it to the boss, be my guest.” Fitch offered. Kingsley paled a little, which brought a smile to Fitch’s lips. “I can see it now.” He continued, leaning back and stretching out. “‘Death, Sir, I refuse to return to HQ, I appreciate the promotion offer, but i enjoy my work too much.’ To which death will of course reply, ‘THAT ISN’T UP TO YOU, KINGSLEY.’ You know, in that way he does that sounds like the fist of eternity knocking on the end of your existence. Of course you’ll reply by politely and dramatically evacuating your bowels and doing as he says, but it’ll be a good effort none-the-less.”

Kingsley sighed his defeat and nodded, sinking back into the chair. “Yeah… you win.” He admitted.

“Shall we get going? I have a few more locations to reap before our one-o'clock appointment.”

“I still have one more here.” Kingsley responded.

Fitch nodded, getting up. “Yup, she’s over there, yelling at that gang of youths.”

Kingsley looked up and spotted her surrounded by a group of particularly unsavoury looking teens. “Stabbed do you reckon?” He asked.

“I don’t like to speculate.” Fitch responded, secretly guessing that she’d get shot by the gang.

In point of fact, both were wrong. While the little gang would try to kill her with both a knife and a gun she was a world class mixed martial artist and managed to beat all of them up. She would later choke on a piece of ice at a nightclub. People thought it was a strange dance but didn’t want to interrupt. A few even joined in.

Right up until she stopped moving.

So there's that.

Tubage
- James

Game On

First look at the Games Designer murder mystery, baring in mind that this project is hugely work in progress and the main characters first name hasn't even been decided yet, here are the first couple of chapters of Game On, by me;

Chapter 1

“That was the trailer for the newly released ‘Blood Ties’ detective game developed by Black Serenity games and published by Electronic Entertainment. I’m Kathy Peclin and we’re here with Nicki Game, Lead designer and spokeswoman for Black Serenity’s latest release.” The games journalist told the audience, holding the big foam mic a little closer to her lips than she probably needed to. Nicki imagined that the sound guys had a hell of a time fixing it so that the journalists voices weren’t distorted if they all held the mics like that.

She didn’t say anything though, she just smiled, waiting to be directed a question. Nicki was used to interviews at this point. Not just about the games she’d been working on, but from the twitter controversy over the last few years. Nicki had been one of the primary focuses of what people called ‘Gamergate’. She’d been interviewed by a lot of different people, from the games media, to big news companies, even Jonah Olivar on his satirical news comedy show back when it all happened. She’d never been interviewed by Kathy Peclin before though so she knew exactly how it would progress. They’d talk about the game a little and then shey’d ask about gamergate. Nicki would tell her a little about her experience, then they’d run out of time before she could say anything meaningful.

Games journalists all wanted to seem like they cared about women being verbally abused and physically threatened because they worked in the games industry, but they also didn’t want to lose the custom of the men who did the abusing. It was hypocrisy, but they were only doing their jobs. it wasn’t their fault that they were inept journalism majors who got stuck in the most marketing oriented end of the media, so she didn’t complain at them.

Of course before all of that, they would start with pointing out her name to her, as if she wasn’t aware of it.

Nicki’s eye moved from the journalist to one of the video feeds behind the camera and found that particular feed focussed on her. She was a skinny thing no more than five-foot-five with a lean muscular body, though you couldn’t see it through her clothes. Her clothes also covered a couple of tattoos as well. One on the front of her upper right leg, three black diamonds spaced out in the shape of a larger diamond with the fourth diamond missing from the left of the formation - just like on the DC Villain ‘Harley Quinn’s costume. The other was of six pixel heart outlines just below her right collarbone. Heart counters from ‘the legend of zelda’. One for each of the game titles she’d worked on as a designer.

She wore blue skinny jeans and black ankle boots with a silver buckle and two inch heels. A white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and the top two buttons undone, revealing a little of her modest cleavage, but not enough to be crude. She also wore a light grey waistcoat, buttoned once in the very centre and left otherwise undone. Hanging around her neck was an EE and Black Serenity lanyard with her E3 entrance badge and credentials hanging in the middle of her chest.

Her long hair was mostly brown today with purple highlights running through it. Most of it ran down her back, but some flowed over her shoulders, and onto her chest. She was quite pretty with porcelain pale skin, almond shaped blue eyes, a cute slightly upturned nose, high cheekbones and light, thin eyebrows. Very pretty, maybe, but she’d never be a model or anything. Maybe one of the ones from that Suicidegirls company. She wore heavy eye makeup but very little of everything else.

She had a small silver piercing through her eyebrow, two silver studs piercing each of her earlobes, and a very small stud with an aquamarine gem in it through the right side of her nose. She’d considered getting plugs in her earlobes, she liked the way they looked on others and thought that they might look good on her. She also knew, however, that having things like her piercings in for long periods of time irritated her so she’d often take them out, and she wouldn’t like the look of herself with empty stretched lobes.

For the most part she liked the way she looked. The ‘emo’ or ‘alternative’ look were styles that suited her and made her feel comfortable, even if she didn’t fully embody the stereotypes that went with them.

For a brief moment before the interviewer turned to her she wondered what colour she should dye her hair next, she could already see the blonde roots coming through, but then she was back with the cameras and bright lights, preparing to answer questions.

“So! Nicola Game?” Kathy said, turning to look over at Nicki, the microphone moving with her chin almost as if it were attached. “That name is a little on the nose, isn’t it?” She smiled, questioningly.

Nicki stifled a sigh and responded the same exact way that she had responded every other time. “I know, but it was a gift from my dad.” She said with her south london english accent contrasting heavily with Kathy’s new york inflections. “My mother says that I was born for this job, when she’s not complaining that I’m not married or in a more lucrative career of course.”

“Of course.” Kathy laughed back, before then continuing with the interview. “So Blood Ties is out now, and honestly,” she added, leaning in almost conspiratorially, “I’ve got to say that it is fantastic. I loved it! It’s got a ninety-five on metacritic, and from what I understand it’s broken the previous record for most first day sales ever and it’s not even been released worldwide yet.” She said it with a note of a question in her voice, but didn’t give Nicki time to respond before adding; “Not to mention that it’s had rave reviews even from the most unlikely sources, including but not limited to King of thriller, Mister Stephan Queen."

“Yes,” Nicki responded, and for a very brief moment she considered leaving it at that. “We’re doing great, sales are through the roof, Blood Ties has been really well received from the majority of our audience, and the games media. We’re all really excited and pleased, and looking forward to our next project. Not to mention the final releases of Blood Ties in England on friday and then the rest of the EU the following monday.”

“Next project? Kathy asked, latching onto the little bit of bait Nicki had dropped out for her. It was something that Black Serenity’s community manager, Rich Heart - who happened to be standing behind the cameras with the producer - had asked her to do, mention a future project but don’t speak about it.

Nicki liked Rich, they were friends. They’d both started in the industry together as QA testers about eight years earlier. They’d watched out for each other and put in good words ever since.

“Can we expect more from Detective Natalie Blood?”

“I can’t talk about that, I’m sorry.” Nicki smiled, apologetically. “I can tell you that every single member of the team who worked on Blood Ties has signed on to work on our next project, so you can expect the same high standards when we release in twenty-eighteen.”

“That’s great.” Kathy decided. “It’s not often you hear that an entire development team is sticking together through multiple projects.”

“It’s not, and that’s a shame, but with the length of development cycles it only stands to reason that people would leave and new people would come in.” Nicki explained, smiling politely.

“Very true.” Kathy said. Her eye flicked over to the producer behind the camera, who Nicki suspected had just said something to her ear piece. She nodded almost imperceptibly and turned to look at Nicki again. She picked up a branded iPad from the sofa next to her and flicked it open. “We’re getting a ton of questions through on our twitter feed from our audience. Do you mind answering some?”

“Sure, no problem.” Nicki smiled, uncrossing her legs and crossing them back the other way as she sat up a little.

“Great. Okay; first question is from @Quantum224, they ask ‘Are there any plans for DLC for Blood Ties?’”

ana smiled and nodded. “Yes, and you can already order the season pass if you wish to. Already in development and due to be released once every three months are four episodic DLCs following Natalie Blood’s father, as he worked his last case. We’re very excited for this one. The full four episodes of the DLC will be roughly the same length as the original game.”

“That’s great, when can we expect the first part?”

“December.” Nicki smiled.

Kathy grinned. “Looking forward to it!” She looked down at her iPad again. “Next question comes from @KittyKatapiller, they want to know ‘Is Natalie Blood in any way based on yourself?’ Interesting question, Nicki?”

Nicki shook her head letting out a very short breath. “The short answer? ‘no’ the long answer ‘My word, no. I am nowhere near as cool as Natalie. At best you could argue that I wish I was like Natalie, and so she’s a representation of my ideal me, but really? No. Natalie is not based on me.’ She’s a great character and I loved working on her, but she’s as amazing as she is tragic and I just can’t pull that off.”

“@Stitch364 wants to know if ‘a sequel Blood Ties game would have multiplayer?’”

Nicki considered her words for a sec, raising her brows and squinting her lips to one side before saying. “It’s possible. If we were to make another game. This time we looked at a lot of different ways to make a multiplayer but could never settle on a style. We didn’t want it to just be a shoot-em-up because, while the game does feature some shooting gameplay it is never a main part of the experience. The game is all about solving mysteries and discovering the killer and in the time we had we couldn’t find a way to create a truly balanced multiplayer system about solving mysteries. Maybe co-op gameplay in the future, btu a versus mode, not so sure. It depends how well the game sells overall and whether we get a lot of leeway in the decisionmaking in the future.”

Another note from the producer passed to Kathy over the ear piece and she put the ipad down. “Speaking of the sales, you mentioned that most of the fanbase is happy and excited about Blood Ties? the ones that aren’t, you were referring to the threats?”

Nicki sighed. This was what she’d been expecting. At least the interview would be over soon, she reasoned, shrugging. She gave Kathy a tired sigh of disappointment more than anger and told her, “well, yeah.” This time Nicki wanted to just leave it at that. Why bother going into it if they were just going to cut her off, right? However Kathy simply sat there, waiting patiently for an answer.She sighed, audibly and continued. “As you and your audience know, a few years ago there were threats made to myself as well as a handful of other women in the games industry. Journalists, bloggers, and developers alike. Sexist… not-nice-people who disagreed with the idea that women are people too and that they have the right to not be verbally abused and threatened over social media.”

“Gamergate.” Kathy responded, nodding gravely.

“Yes. Well, towards the end of the development cycle for Blood Ties word got out that at the beginning of development Detective Natalie Blood was Detective Nathaniel Blood.” Nicki explained. “The people who threatened me for speaking out against them threatening people decided that I was the sole drive behind this move, and that I was forcing feminism onto people. As with all people whose I.Q. doesn’t hit double digits, they resorted to threats and intimidation. I’m guessing that they didn’t get the game when it came out, but we still got record sales so it can’t have been that bad a move.”

Another note passed between the producer and Kathy. “So you weren’t the reason behind Nathan Bloods sex change?” She asked, raising her eyebrows as if surprised.

Nicki’s own brow furrowed as she looked across at the producer behind the camera. “You’re right, that is the most important point to make sure we get across here.” She said, annoyed by the question. She looked back to Kathy whose lips were fighting not to smile at Nicki’s sarcasm. “No, I liked Nathan just as much as Natalie. I won’t lie; it made it easier for me to relate to Natalie, but I’ve written for male characters in the past and it’s never been a problem. But no, I didn’t make Nathan a girl, ultimately that was my boss, Creative Director Matthew Warden’s call.”

Kathy sat up a little straighter, nodding as the annoyed producer passed more notes across to her. Nicki took it that he hadn’t appreciated her sarcasm. “But you did write a lot of the game?” Kathy asked.

“I’m a Lead Designer. I did a lot of work on a lot of the design, but I work with a lot of very talented people, all of whom did an incredible job, and none of this would be happening without them. Blood Ties was a group effort, and we all worked very hard.”

“That’s great.” Kathy said, looking over at the camera as the producer gave her the queue to wrap up. “Now we touched on Gamergate and your experiences with it a moment ago. I’m sure our viewers are wondering how you’re coping since?”

Nicki shrugged again, and sighed once more. “Honestly I’m fine. I don’t have a family to worry about, so the threats didn’t hit me quite as hard as it did others. Don’t get me wrong I’m not saying I’m stronger than them or that they are weaker than me, I’m just saying that I made a decision and when I did it was a decision I was making just for me, not for anyone else around me. I decided that the people online aren’t scary. They’re awful awful people and I report every single one of them, because they shouldn’t feel like they are allowed to tell me, for example, that ‘I’m an evil whore who slept her way to where I am, and that they will come find me and cut me to pieces if I don’t kill myself first’.”

“That’s awful.” Kathy said, more shocked than Nicki had expected her to be. “They really said that?”

“I was paraphrasing, but pretty much. The worst one i had though was a private message with my address and a picture of a gun.” She continued. “I called the police for that and spent a few days at a friends house. Nothing ever came of it. Point is, I live my life how I want to. I can’t worry about these idiots on the internet, I can’t let them control my life or else they’ve won.”

Kathy nodded sagely and then sighed. “Thank you, Nicki. That’s all we’ve got time for right now, though.” She turned to the camera. “We’ll be back in a few minutes for more live E3 coverage!”

The cameras turned off and everyone relaxed. the producer all but stormed off but Kathy stuck around for a moment. Nicki stood up and Kathy stood with her. “Thanks for that.” she said. “And thanks for poking the bear about priorities.”

“Not a problem.” Nicki smiled.

“I wanted to do a piece on the whole thing, try and get all of the games media involved back when Gamergate really kicked off, but the producers and editors didn’t care. they just wanted ad revenue.” She sighed and shook her head, disappointed. “Are you off back to england this evening?”

“No, we’re going to be here for EE’s presentation this afternoon to promote Blood Ties, then head back tomorrow morning.” Nicki responded, taking her bag from Rich as he stepped out from behind the cameras.

“Oh, okay, cool.” Kathy said. “Are you free for dinner this evening?”

Nicki raised her eyes in surprise. ”Oh.” She paused for a moment to appraise the journalist she’d practically been battling with a moment ago. She was pretty. Shorter than Nicki with long brown hair, tied back into a tail. She wore a fitted blue t-shirt with old sci-fi references cropped into the shape of a star in the centre. “Sure.” She decided. “I finish up at about eight, meet me in the back?”

Kathy’s eyes lit up as she grinned. It was a smiled that Nicki hadn’t seen throughout the interview, genuine excitement. It really lit her up, made her even prettier. “Great.” She said, nodding. “I’ll see you there.”

Nicki smiled and nodded back, turning to Rich and walking out past the cameras to the exit. “How is it that every time we come to an event you get hit on and I don’t?” Rich asked.

“It’s my accent. American girls love the english accent.” She looked over at him, smiling wolfishly, then appraisingly. He was tall, maybe six-two but skinny, not much muscle - Nicki was fairly sure she’d be able to overpower him if she tried - but he was cute. Attractive in a nerdy way. “You’re not unattractive, I’m sure you could get some if you tried. But your american accent doesn’t work as well as my english. At least not in america.”

”Fair point.” Rich sighed, opening the door for her Nicki and following her out. “Remember that our flight's at ten tomorrow morning though. try not to be late.”

“Oh Rich, it’s a first date, just dinner. Nothing’s going to happen. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Right.” Rich sighed, rolling his eyes. “You got plans for lunch?”

“You’re hitting on me now?”

“No. I’m trying to decide if i want mexican or italian. You got a preference?” He asked as they stepped down onto the main floor and then turned towards the exit.

“By mexican or italian do you mean Pizza Hut or Taco Bell?” Nicki asked, raising an eyebrow in mocking inquisitiveness. He shrugged. “I could go for some Pizza.”

Rich nodded and dodged around a particularly aggressive booth worker who wanted him to play the latest from their studio. They made their way through the crowd to the main exit and pushed through the doors. Nicki nodded to the nearest security guard as she walked through and moved to lift up her E3 badge, but the security guy waved her through before she could show it.

“Do you know where the Pizza Hut is?” She asked, sucking in a breath of hot california summer air, pulling out her sunglasses and putting them on as she paused in front of the LA convention centre.

“Yeah, it’s just down west Pico Boulevard.” Nicki raised her brows at Rich, to which he rolled his eyes and started walking. “This way.”

“That way!” She announced in response, pointing and starting to walk with Rich.

The Pizza hut was pretty close, less than ten minutes away, but it was busy. They were sat waiting for a good thirty, maybe forty-five minutes before anyone showed them to a seat.

They ate their meal leisurely, chatting about nothing important. Rich had lived nearby when he was younger and he spent some time talking about the area. It was actually interesting how much the place had changed in only a decade.

It was a pleasant meal, but something bothered her throughout. Rich was fine, but she felt like she’d been getting looks from people. Felt like someone had been watching her. She looked around, every so often, but never found anyone looking. There were all sorts of people, business men, workers from the convention, families, a couple of groups of guys that looked like they could have been gamers who had tried to get into E3, but lucked out.

It was in one of these groups, as they were finishing up the meal that Nicki noticed one of them looking at her, and not idly. There was anger in his eyes, not obvious perhaps, but she could very clearly see it there.  She frowned and looked back at Rich. “You ready to go?” She asked.

He looked up from his drink and frowned. “Sure, let me just pay.”

“You want some money?”

Rich shook his head. “It’ll be easier to expense as 1 charge on my card than if we had to split it and share the receipt.”

Nicki nodded and got up. “Okay. I’ll meet you outside. I need a little air.”

She grabbed her bag and swung the strap over her shoulder, pushing her chair back in under the table and walking out.

She wondered as she got outside if, perhaps, she was being paranoid. Maybe the young man just always looked like that and he hadn’t been focussing his anger towards her. Maybe she wasn’t as confident in her ability to ignore the Gamergate stuff as she’d thought and it had gotten to her.

She stepped over to the side of the car park's paving and waited for Rich to get outside.

“Hey! Your that Nicki Game, bitch, right?!” came the voice of aggression that proved her paranoia right.

Nicki’s heart began to race as she turned her head to look at the guy. He was Rich’s height, almost two heads taller than her, with short, crew cut blonde hair, an american football jersey and past knee length shorts.

He looked like he worked out, at least more than Rich did.

Nicki took a breath and turned away from him, but made sure to keep him in sight via reflections in car windows. She’d dealt with idiot twitter posters in real life before. Most of them just want to shout abuse, not many had the balls to actually do anything. Usually if you ignored them they actually did go away.

This guy, though… she wasn’t sure. So she kept him in sight.

“I hear you don’t find the people online scary. That you don’t worry about them?” He said, taking a step forward. She saw him reach for something in the reflection of a window and then light glinted off of it as he moved towards her.

Her eyes widened and she cursed, turning to face him and swinging her bag around and up and in the way of the attackers weapon. There was a loud thunk as his hand slammed down into her bag, and the blade he was wielding buried to the hilt in the canvas and leather. She twisted her bag and pulled, tearing the weapon free of the guy’s grip in his surprise.

She stepped back and grabbed the blade, pulling it free from her bag and pointing it towards him in what looked like - though she very much doubted was - a legitimate knife fighter’s stance.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She shouted, backing up a step. Her hand shook and her heart hammered in her throat. She’d been working out, training in a martial arts studio, sparring with her sensei for years, ever since the threat to her life during Gamergate, and yet when it came down to it her hands still shook, her heart still pounded.

“What you gonna do? stab me?” The guy asked. “You ain’t got the balls.” He grinned, emphasizing the last word. He moved forwards and then stopped, hesitating. He looked past Nicki and then forced himself to step back. He spat and eyed her. “You got lucky this time, bitch.”

He turned, eying the knife for a moment as if he wanted to take it back before fleeing. He seemed to think better of it then walked off the opposite way, forcing himself to let it go.

Nicki slid down to her knees, knife still out in front of her. Her heart racing, her eyes glazing over ever so slightly. As the knife grew heavy in her hands she released it and it fell from her fingers, dropping on the floor, clattering on the concrete.

The blade touched the floor and she threw up.

Chapter 2

“Hey, I just met you, And this is crazy, But here's my number, So call me-” Blared noisily around the hotel room, the music was almost louder than the lyrics the way that Nicki’s phone audio had been set up. The alarm seemed to be coming from everywhere in the room at once, it even felt as if it were changing location every time she turned, trying frantically to find it before it woke Kathy up next to her. She found the phone in the sheets and swiped the alarm off, silencing it, hopefully before waking the cute brunet up.

“Call me maybe?” She asked, groggily. “Really?”

“What?” Nicki asked, defensively. “I like it.” She shrugged, leaning over, “You should go back to sleep.” and kissing the journalist on the forehead. Kathy let out a soft murmur of pleasure and closed her eyes. “I’ve got to catch my flight.” Nicki added. Kathy squirmed a little at that, reached up awkwardly and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her down. “No.” She mumbled, leaning up to kiss Nicki again.

Nicki let out a quiet laugh and kissed Kathy again, deeply. “I have to.”

She groaned, inaudibly, but relented, releasing Nicki and letting her get out of bed. She dressed quickly, pausing briefly to ask if Kathy knew where her bra was, which she had pointed out after a moment of inaudible grunting.

Soon Nicki was re-dressed in her skinny jeans, blouse and waistcoat. She buckled up her boots and made her way back to the bed. She leaned down, running a hand over the skin of Kathy’s shoulder as she kissed her again. “I had a great time.” She whispered, pulling a business card from her pocket and sliding it into Kathy’s hand as she said, “If you’re ever in london give me a call.”

Kathy clutched the card tight and murmured her assent, falling back to sleep.

Nicki smiled wide and got up to leave, heading straight to the door and grabbing her back from the floor next to it. She paused as she picked it up, eying the knife wound in the side.

Her heart still raced when she thought about it. That was one of the reasons she’d gone back to Kathy’s hotel. She’d liked the journalist, but she hadn’t intended to go back to her room when she’d asked her out but after her ordeal with the knife… she needed to take her mind off it and Kathy was a good distraction. A very good distraction.

It had been a pair of cops that had startled the guy and run him off. They’d taken her details and the knife as evidence, but otherwise there hadn’t really been anything she could do. Rich had taken Nicki’s place in the EE presentation and Nicki had gone back to her room, but every little sound had startled her so she went to find Kathy and they had dinner. Nicki hadn’t felt like leaving the safety of the hotel or the convention centre so they’d ordered room service.

One thing led to another and here she was, staring at her wounded bag. She hadn’t even checked to see if anything important had been stabbed.

Nicki took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. She doubted that she’d ever hear from Kathy again, but if she did she wouldn’t mind.

She sighed, leaning back against the door and looked down at the bag again, opening it and looking through for damage. Mostly it was fine, the book she was reading had a cut across the spine and her phone had a scratch on the cover but mostly it was just the bag that had been assaulted. There was one thing that looked like it had taken the brunt of the attack however, She drew out a folder and looked at the solid knife wound straight through the centre. She sighed and opened it to eye the Blood Ties promotional materials. Every single flier, every folded poster, every note, every page had a knife wound through the middle, and every one with the image of Detective Natalie Blood had a stab wound right through her face.

If Nicki wasn’t still struggling with the fact that it might have been her being stabbed she might have found some morbid amusement in the fact that this was as close as the Gamergate morons would ever get to stopping the influx of strong female characters in lead roles.

Instead she dropped the folder back into her bag, took a deep breath and headed back to her hotel room to grab her things.

Thankfully Kathy and Nicki had been staying in the same hotel, so she didn’t have far to go. She made her way to the lift and pressed the button for the thirteenth floor before stepping back against the opposite wall and leaning back, closing her eyes and letting out a long exhalation.

She loved E3, and the gaming events that she had to do. It was great to see people's excitement at the work she’d been doing, and it was fun to see what other studios were bringing out, but it was exhausting. Even without the life threatening knife attack these events were exhausting.

The lift dinged and the doors slid open. Nicki eyed the number display, but they were still up on the fifteenth floor. A couple of people still wearing their E3 badges around their necks stepped inside and hit the ground floor button. They eyed her for a moment, Nicki’s heart began to race at the possibilities of their gaze, but then they turned their backs to her and she realised that it was more a comment on her appearance than on their desire to do her harm. She took a breath and went back to her quiet contemplation as the lift travelled down the last couple of floors to the thirteenth where she disembarked and walked down the corridor to her room.

The swipe card let her in without any fuss and she stepped inside, dropping her bag on the table next to the door, closing the room up tight behind her. She sighed, looking around at her practically pristine room and proceeded to clean up her scattered clothes, packing them silently into her suitcase, which had been left to one side of the room. She packed the bag with the efficiency of a toddler, stuffing clothes - clean and dirty alike - into the case before putting the gifts she'd bought for her family, friends and for the guys at the office who couldn't come with her on top.

She checked the clock, it was still pretty early. She had an hour before she needed to meet up with Rich and the others so she decided to have a shower. Nicki grabbed a small jewellery case from her suitcase and crossed the room to the bathroom. She stepped inside, turning on the light and closing the door behind her. Nicki set the jewellery case down on the countertop and opened it. The case had several different compartments, each one holding something different. One for nose rings, one for eyebrow rings, one for earrings and one that held a single simple silver chain with a gold ring hanging from it. The ring was thin and engraved to have vines weaving around the wearers finger, leading up to a golden flower with a small sapphire in the centre, which was the centrepiece of the ring. She sighed for a moment as she lifted it up to look at it. A rush of sadness, fear, and the unimaginable emptiness that only those who have truly known the loss of love can comprehend welled up inside Nicki. She didn't fight it. She never fought it. She lifted the ring up to her lips and kissed the sapphire before returning it carefully, lovingly to the case.

She started taking off her piercings and placing them into case with the others. Both ears, her nose, her brow. She didn't need to remove them to have a shower but it made things ever so slightly easier for her so she did it. She turned the shower on and waited for it to heat up to the point that it's heat could cauterise a wound, and stripped out of her clothes, dumping them onto the closed toilet and hopping into the hot cleansing waters.

She stood there naked in the shower for an age, replaying the events of the previous day over and over in her mind, imagining what she could have done differently.

What she should have done differently.

Events played out through her mind, different every time. One version where she grabbed the guys wrist and flipped him over her shoulder. One version where she took the knife and fought back. One version where she hadn’t been quick enough with her bag and she’d been stabbed. Many versions. Many more.

She stood there in the heat, just letting it wash over her, cleaning the makeup from her face, washing her tears away as no matter what nothing she thought up made her feel better. Inside, deep down she knew that she’d done the right thing, even that she’d done incredibly well do block the knife and get it away from him.

Really; who sees a knife coming and gets the knife away from someone twice their body mass? She was pretty incredible, really and after only two years of martial arts training.

But she couldn’t shake that feeling. That fear and dread. That helplessness she’d felt when she’d got the knife from him and he hadn’t cared. He’d been right, she wouldn’t have been able to use it. But that didn’t make her bad. it made her a better person. Right?

She shook her head. If those cops hadn’t turned up when they did she’d have been a better dead person most likely. Still; she’d done everything she could. It was a scary moment, but it worked out okay. She took a deep breath of steam through the nose and started to apply complimentary soap to herself, scrubbing with a sponge she’d brought from home.

When Nicki finally climbed out of the shower forty-five minutes had gone by and she was beginning to get pruny. She dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around her, then wrapped her hair up in a second towel and tied it atop her head like only women can.

She left the bathroom and retrieved what she thought might still be clean clothes from her suitcase, pulling the underwear - a pair of black panties and a plain red bra if you really, really, really needed to know - on under the towel to protect her modesty from the people who weren’t there. She let the towel drop from around her and within a couple of seconds pulled on a combination of black tights and denim shorts. You could just about see her Harley Quinn tattoo through the tights, but she was perfectly okay with that.

Nicki picked out a black t-shirt with a picture of one of her favorite mystery novel characters riding a dinosaur on it and pulled it on over her head. Nicki went to close the suitcase up, but remembered the clothes and jewellery case in the bathroom. Then remembered her makeup and sighed. She only have ten minutes left, she’d have to forgo the makeup, which she was most certainly displeased about.

She went back into the bathroom, grabbing the towel from the floor and throwing it into the bathtub - as per the hotels instructions - as she reached the jewellery. Nicki reapplied her rings, swapping out a stud on each ear for a pair of little silver rings. She also swapped the a aquamarine nose ring out for a ruby one - well, not really ruby, it was simply too inexpensive to have actual ruby in, but it still looked nice.

She snapped the jewellery case closed then looked up at her towel covered head in the mirror. She reached up and pulled the towel off, then spent a few moments rubbing it dry with her towel. It didn’t get all the way there and she had to just live with it, flicking her hair back over her head to rest damply down her back. She threw the towel in the bath with the other one and grabbed her clothes from on top of the toilet.

Nicki left the bathroom and dumped the rest of her clothes and her jewellery case into the suitcase. She had to sit on it to get it all to fit, but she did manage to close it with a whole minute left to check the room over again to appease her paranoia, get out, close the room up, carry all her things down to the lobby, check out and meet up with the others from Black Serenity.

She sighed and gave the room a quick glance, grabbed her bag and keycard from the table by the door, hefted her suitcase from the bed and left the room.

As she closed the room up she eyed her bag and it’s knife wound again, sighing. She liked the bag. It had been a Sword Art Online canvas and leather satchel that she’d been given for christmas by her mother. Now it was pretty much ruined.

She could stitch it up and make it usable - hell it was still usable with the knife wound in - but she’d never be able to forget about the knife attack while it was still in her life. If she’d had time, since calming down, to go and get a new bag she would have.

As Nicki walked down the corridor to the lift her burner phone - she liked to call it that, it was just one of the prepaid mobile phones that Black Serenity had bought for everyone on the trip when they’d arrived, but she spent a lot of time watching american television, so it was a burner phone to her - started to ring. She reached into her back and pulled it out, flipping it open - yes, it was a flip phone, how freaking cool is that? - as she did so. Rich’s burner phone was calling hers. She answered with one hand and released her suitcase to press the lift call button with the other. “Hey, I’m on my way down now.”

“Alright. We’re in the lobby,” Rich said, he hesitated for a moment then said; “you should know that it got out that you were attacked yesterday so there are some gamergate reporters outside.”

Nicki groaned. “Really? For fuck’s sake...” She sighed, staring up at the ceiling in annoyance. She let out a breath as the elevator opened and looked into it. It was empty. She rolled her suitcase in. “Alright. I’ll meet you down there. Bye.” She turned off the phone as Rich said bye and hit the ground floor’s button with her phone’s arial.

The doors closed and descended quickly down to the lobby. Nobody got in and there was nobody waiting at the bottom, so she walked out and made her way quickly to the check-out desk. The clerk on duty painlessly helped Nicki to check out of the hotel and she went to meet with her coworkers. Other than Rich there were three others, two guys from QA - John and Dave - and the senior producer - Melina. The three of them were waiting for her but Rich was unaccounted for.

"Hey." Nicki said as she reached them.

“Hey,” Dave and John said together. Dave was tall, about six four, even taller than Rich and a giant compared to Nicki. He had light chocolate coloured skin, closely cut her and a very short goatee. Very attractive and he clearly worked out.

John had a mild tan and was still tall and well toned from sports, but at only six foot he was nothing compared to Dave, though he still towered over Nicki. He had mid length brown hair - or what was considered mid length for a guy - and a scruffy but attractive beard. He was also attractive, they both ruined the lazy, fatty QA tester stereotype, it was quite refreshing.

"Hey, you check out alright?" Melina asked, hiking her bag up a little higher on her shoulder. Even Melina was taller than Nicki by about three inches. She had curly black hair and slightly hispanic features. She wasn’t nearly as pretty as the guys, and she’d gained a substantial amount of weight since the beginning of the project - that’s what happens when the company buys take out every time you do overtime - but in the right light, maybe? Nicki didn’t really think about it. She’d had relationships with coworkers before and they never ended well, so now she kept it strictly business and friendship.

Also Melina wasn’t gay, so that was a pretty good reason not to enter into a relationship with her.

Nicki nodded. "Good, we'll get out of here as soon as Rich gets back."

"Where is he?" Nicki asked, settling her suitcase and crossing her arms to wait.

Melina shrugged.

"He said something about getting you a disguise." Dave responded. "How you doing?"

Nicki shrugged this time and stared out the front of the hotel, there were only about 3 people that she could actively pick out as reporters, but that was 4 more than she wanted to deal with. "I'm fine." She told him.

"Sure you are." Rich agreed, appearing behind them. He held a plastic bag with the hotel gift shops logo on. "Here," he offered Nicki the bag as he reacher her.

She frowned questioningly but took the bag, looking inside. She reached in and pulled out the large cotton thing that was inside. she screwed up the bag and pocketed it as she unfurled what was apparently a large grey hoodie with the hotel logo and name on the front. Very much not her style.

She let out a short breath of laughter and looked up at Rich. “Thanks,” she said, pulling it on. It came down to just above her knees, and the sleeves extended past her hands. She reached up and pulled the hood on, it all but engulfed her head. She looked up at Rich and eyed him, raising a brow daring him to laugh. She didn’t bother turning the look on Dave or John, if they were going to laugh there was nothing she could do to stop it. “I look ridiculous don’t I?”

Rich grinned. “A little like a ten year old wearing her dad’s hoodie, but it’ll get you past the journalists and to the car, come on.”

Nicki sighed and followed the others out, sticking close to Dave and John, subconsciously thinking of them as her muscle in case any of the journalists saw through Rich’s cunning ploy.

Sarcasm aside, the plan worked and they got into their cab without a fuss. She left Rich to sort out her bag and slipped into the back of the cab. Soon they were all piled in and heading back to the airport.

They got through customs without any hassle, though Dave had been forced to give up a snow globe he’d bought and placed in his hand luggage. Aparently a lot of people forget that there’s more than 20 millileters  of water in a snow globe and they get confiscated a lot. Aparently there’s a collection in the airport staff room, and Dave’s one was one of the nicer ones.

Dave didn’t stop complaining about it all the way onto the flight. Thankfully he was sat at the other end of the row of seats and Melina was the only one who had to listen to the tirade, at least when it was quiet.

“It’ll be good to get back and relax.” Nicki said after the flight finally took off.

“Relax?” John scoffed from one side of her. “you get to relax when the game comes out? we still have day one updates and bug fix updates to test and get out there.”

“I have to take control of the forums and the social pushes.” Rich agreed. “You’re the only one who gets to relax. Artists have art bugs, coders have code bugs, QA have all bugs, Community has a community to manage and bugs to pass along and Melina has to run it all and liaise with Marketing. You hear what they’re doing to advertise the game?” He added, looking over to Nicki and John.

“No,” John replied, frowning. “Not just the usual adverts, billboards, social pushes...?”

Rich shook his head. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, but they got all excited and told community so we could get hype going.” He explained. He smiled and then laid hsi head back, not sayign anything else.

“Oh come on,” Nicki said, rolling her eyes and hitting him in the arm. “what is it?”

Rich raised his eyebrows and looked to Nicki. “Hm? Oh right. Well they realised that we had a unique oportunity, since the game is set in London and the majority of the murder victims are found staged in well known places they’re planning to put up advertising in those places, but not just any adverts, statues.” John raised an eyebrow, as if he needed more information but Nicki was starting to get it. “So on Tuesday they’re putting them up, just in the first three murder locations in the game. Kings cross station, London Victoria and trafalgar square. On tuesday they will be surrounded by police tape and police privacy barriers to obscure them. Then on wednesday they’re going to be taking down the privacy barriers to reveal a model of the victim from that location. Then thursday they’ll add in life size models of Natalie Blood investigating the scene.”

“That sounds pretty cool.” John admitted. “But, the victims look pretty gruesome when they’re found in the game, won't they be too… eighteen certificate for a place like that? so many people of all ages coming in and out.”

Rich nodded. “They’ve toned it down a lot for the statues. its not really about the victims anyway. It’s about Detective Natalie Blood. She’ll look right.”

Nicki nodded. “So they’re all made already? can I see them?” She asked.

“Sure.” Rich responded. “Go to Kings Cross, London Victoria or Trafalgar square Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.”

Nicki rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She said. “But you suck.”

“Agreed.” John said, turning away and resting back in his chair.

Rich grinned, impishly. “Duly noted.”

 And thats the first two chapters. It gets more interesting I promise. I'm currently only on chapter 4, but I like the idea so far and I'm having fun with the characters.

Cards against Tubage
- James