“God damn it, Carl,” Jacob’s voice exclaimed from the hallway outside my door.

I opened the door to my room and looked at Jacob, a septuagenarian with a sour disposition and even worse body odor. He was leaning on his walker as he glared at me challenging.

“I know you were the one who stole my pudding,” Carl accused, pointing his bony finger in my face. “You know that butterscotch is the only flavor I like.“

“Why would I steal your pudding?” I responded with a roll of my eyes. “I don’t even like butterscotch.“

Jacob blinked at that. “Because… Because you’re jealous of my hair.“

That made me burst out laughing, though I had to resist reaching up to touch my hair, or lack thereof. Most of my hair had fled more than two decades ago, leaving me with a silver Caesar ring around the sides. I’d long since stopped caring much about such a minor thing

“Oh yes, I’m jealous of your hair,” I responded with a chuckle. “Now, I think you’d better go get yourself checked out because your dementia is getting worse.”

Jacob glared at me even harder. “You… You…” He took a deep breath before hissing, “You’ll pay for this. Once I have enough evidence for the lawsuit…”

I just remained where I was, not bothering to say anything at first. As unfortunate as it was, Jacob actually did have a bit of dementia. Once upon a time, at least according to him, he’d been a pretty sharp lawyer. These days, his only legal skills seemed to be in threatening to sue anyone who annoyed him.

“Can we hurry this up?” I asked Jacob patiently. “I have a big date to get to, and I don’t want to be late.“

“Just you wait,” Jacob told me before he turned and shuffled off down the hallway of the nursing home.

Once Jacob was gone, I stepped out into the hallway myself, using my cane to keep my balance. The nurses kept telling me that I needed a walker, but I wasn’t that bad yet. Needing a cane was bad enough.

I slowly made my way down the hallway to the cafeteria, silently cursing just how long it took me to travel such a short distance. Getting old really sucked, but it was still better than the alternative. But eventually, I arrived at my destination, the corner table that I’d reserved for the occasion. My date was already at our usual table, waiting in her wheelchair.

Margaret was a white-haired octogenarian, who must have been quite a beauty back in her younger days, because she still managed to hold onto a great deal of charm. She was a widow with three kids, seven grandchildren, and two great grandchildren. None of whom ever bothered to come visit her.

My lovely date and I were both bored and lonely, having very little to do in this place. That was why we’d begun doing our weekly date nights. They were less about romance and more about companionship and giving us something to look forward to.

“Maggie,” I greeted her with a pleasant smile.

“Don’t Maggie me,” Margaret responded with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “You know I prefer my full name.”

“I’m sorry,” I lied as I took my seat. “I forgot.”. Then I joked, “They say that memory is the first thing to go.”

“And what is the second?” she asked.

I gave her a deadpan look as I answered, “I forget.”

Margaret was dressed up for our date, as usual. She loved the excuse to put on her good clothes and jewelry, and I was more than happy to provide it. Tonight, she’d even gone all out and was wearing one of the gaudiest pieces of jewelry that I’d ever seen. It was a large gold amulet with a golf ball sized red gem right in the center.

I gave Margaret’s necklace a quick look, though I made sure not to look too closely. Most people would assume that thing was a piece of costume jewelry, but I knew better. I considered saying something about the item, then decided that it would probably be better to just not bring any attention to it.

“You’re looking lovely as usual,” I told my date.

“Oh, you charmer,” Margaret responded with a wink, clearly enjoying the attention.

It was around this time that someone brought food over to our table for us. The nurses and other staff seemed to find our date nights amusing, so they played along and made things a bit nicer.

About halfway through the meal, Margaret asked, “So, Carl, what did you do before you retired?”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” I told her with a chuckle. “I was with animal control. You know, rounding up stray animals that make a nuisance of themselves and the like.”

“That does sound interesting,” Margaret responded with an interesting look and a faint smirk. “But I seem to remember you telling me once that you used to be an accountant.”

“Being an accountant was boring,” I explained, “so I changed careers.”

“I see,” my date responded pleasantly. “And I just happened to remember that you once said you were a garbage man…”

“Sanitation engineer,” I corrected her pleasantly. “I quit that one to become an accountant. I thought it would be less smelly.”

“Smelly, hmmm?” Margaret mused, watching me with sharp eyes that reminded me of a predator about to strike. “I think that I might be smelling a little something myself. I think it might be BS.”

“I’ve gone through a few careers,” I said with a wink and a smile. There was clearly nothing wrong with Margaret’s memory, because she was still just as sharp as anyone I’d ever met. “And were you, by any chance, a reporter?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Margaret responded with a pleasant laugh. “Just a mother whose children loved to take liberties with the facts.”

“Well, maybe you should have been,” I told her. “You just might have missed your calling.”

We both laughed at that and continued with our dinner. Once we were done eating, I announced, “Now, I think it’s time for dessert…” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pudding cup and set it on the table in front of her. “I got you your favorite. Butterscotch.”

Margaret accepted the dessert and laughed again as she reached for her spoon. “You really are a charmer.”

Just then, a loud scream suddenly filled the air. I snapped around and looked at the door to the cafeteria, realizing that the scream had come from the other side. Before I could even take three breaths, four figures burst into the room.

The figure in front was a slender woman, one of the employees of the nursing home. From the look of terror on her face and the blood that was splattered across her front, I immediately suspected that she was the source of the scream.

Three men stepped into the room behind her, with one of them having a hand on her shoulder from where he was pushing her forward. He was tall and muscular, with well-tanned skin and dark red hair that was brushed back. His clothes immediately stood out as he wore a pair of black leather pants and a top that seemed to be scale armor. A large, double-bladed axe hung from his other hand.

The second man was lean and wiry, with light brown skin and dark hair. His clothing choices were just as unusual as the first man, comprising of leather armor over most of his body, with at least half a dozen knives and daggers strapped to him in various places.

And then there was the third man, who was wide and stocky, wearing a black leather biker’s jacket with lots of buckles and studs. Of the three, he looked the most normal, except for the fact that he held a golden scepter with red gem set into the head.

None of these men belonged in the home, and I seriously doubted that they were there as visitors. My eyes went from the blood on the woman’s clothing to the matching blood that dripped from the axe the first man held.

“Where is she?” the large man demanded of the scared employee. When the woman didn’t answer fast enough, he raised the axe and held it in front of her. “I won’t ask again.”

Before the terrified woman could answer, the wiry man abruptly exclaimed, “There…” He was pointing right at me and Margaret. “She’s right there…”

“What the hell?” the stocky man blurted out. “She’s wearing the damn thing. Right out in the open.”

“Makes it easier on us,” the large muscular one said.

My eyes widened and I looked at Margaret, specifically, at the amulet she was wearing. Now I regretted not saying something about it earlier.

“What’s going on?” Margaret asked with a look of worry.

“Players,” I answered grimy, looking back to the three approaching men. They’d casually tossed the terrified employee to the side. “Rogue players.”

I stood up, grabbing my cane as I did so. I could feel the power radiating off the three men, power which clearly marked them as being more than normal humans. Most players radiated this power to some degree or another, whether they wanted to or not.

“Go,” I told Margaret, even though I knew it would do no good. It was already too late to escape these men. On second thought, I said, “Give them your necklace… That’s what they want.”

“But George gave this to me,” Margaret complained. “Before he passed…”

One of the male employees ran across the cafeteria, yelling, “GET OUT OF HERE. WE’VE ALREADY CALLED THE POLICE.”

Stocky man raised his scepter and suddenly fired a ball of energy out of the end. It flew across the room and hit the employee, who immediately collapsed to the ground with a gaping hole in his chest.

“Stupid NPCs,” the stocky man said with a dismissive sneer.

“Just grab it,” the large man ordered, gesturing towards Margaret.

The lean man ran towards our table, his eyes firmly locked on Margaret, who was frantically trying to roll her wheelchair away. I grimaced and swung my cane, keeping it low and using the handle to hook the player’s ankle. He lost his balance and flew face first into the ground.

“Smooth one,” the stocky man exclaimed with a laugh. “You just got taken down by an old man.”

“SHUT UP,” the wiry one snarled as he got back to his feet.

The wiry man reached for one of his daggers, only to wince as a dinner plate suddenly smacked into his face. Margaret was already grabbing a second plate from the table so she could throw that one too.

“You leave him alone,” Margaret commanded.

“SHUT UP,” the wiry man spat out, throwing a dagger and hitting Margaret in the chest. She flopped backwards with blood gushing out.

“MAGGIE!” I croaked in horror.

“Just grab the damn amulet,” the large man with the axe ordered.

A cold rage formed in my chest as Margaret died in front of me. She was…harmless. She hadn’t been any threat at all to these men, and they’d killed her simply for being inconvenient.

I swung my cane at the wiry man, though he casually tore it out of my hand and tossed it aside. I grabbed hold of the edge of the table to keep from falling over.

“Hey, Mike,” the wiry man called out to the stocky one. “Lend me your rod. I want to make an example of this one.”

The stocky man, Mike, casually tossed his scepter to the wiry one, who caught it with a malicious grin. He held the scepter out and fired a ball of energy out at the wall, apparently just trying it out to make sure it worked. Then he pointed it right at me.

“You’ve got guts, old man,” the wiry man admitted with a sneer. “You aren’t even flinching.”

I just glared at the man, saying, “It’s not the first time I’ve had a scepter pointed at my face.”

“Well, it’s going to be the last,” he responded before squeezing the shaft, clearly intending to fire the weapon. However, nothing happened, much to his obvious surprise…but not mine. “Why…?”

But unlike this player, I was expecting this and immediately took advantage of the opportunity. While he was distracted, I reached out and snatched the scepter from his hand. Normally, there was no way I should have been able to do that to a player, but he was overconfident and not paying enough attention.

“Let’s see how you like it,” I said as I pointed the scepter right at his face.

“You’ve got to be shitting,” he started to say as he reached out to take the scepter back.

I squeezed the shafter and concentrated on the weapon, which warmed in my hand and fired a pulse of energy at him. A moment later, the wiry man collapsed to the ground without a head.

“ZEKE!” Mike exclaimed.

“A scepter from an Obsidian Temple guard,” I commented casually, having recognized the design of that particular weapon. The red gem on the head and the specific filigree decorations were unmistakable. “Powerful but slow since it has a seventeen second cooldown between uses, and you have to take it back to the temple to recharge after every nine shots.”

There was a vague sense of satisfaction at having killed the man who’d murdered Margaret, but I was definitely not satisfied. One of the men responsible was gone, but two more remained. I glanced around the cafeteria and saw that everyone else had already run away, leaving me alone with the two remaining players.

“Useful in the labyrinth where firearms won’t work,” I continued talking about the scepter, mostly to buy enough time so that I could use it again. “But out in the real world…” I paused at that for emphasis. “It’s only really good for showing off.”

With that, I finished counting seventeen seconds and fired a second blast at the player with the axe. He stepped aside and avoided the attack with ease, then he rushed at me, crossing the room in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it, his hand was around my neck as he lifted me off the ground.

“You have some fight in you, old man,” the man said with a snarl.

I gurgled in response, unable to speak or even breathe. He was choking me with ease, and my life was literally within his hand. I knew my life was about to end and there was nothing I could do to save it. Not that I really wanted to. I didn’t have anything left to live for anyway, but that didn’t mean I was just going to roll and die over without fighting back. If there was any chance of taking this bastard with me, then that was damn well what I was going to do.

I’d dropped the scepter when the man had grabbed me, but I’d noticed a dagger on his belt. Without hesitating, I grabbed his snatched and drove it into his eye.

There was a loud CRACK sound and a sharp pain in my neck. An instant later, I lost all feeling and everything faded to darkness. It was finally over.

I was in a void. No body. No light. No sound. Nothing existed except for my consciousness, and even that was quickly fading away.

But then, glowing letters appeared in front of me. These were not visible letters as I no longer had physical eyes to see with, but I could still see them nonetheless. It was as though the message was being projected directly into my mind.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO RESPAWN?