The full-blooded NPC's face barely changed from his original nasty scowl as Kenneth reeled back from him. The pain in his face wasn't real, he knew that. There was no actual pain because the game couldn't hurt him. This was phantom pain. He felt his mother's knuckles sting his skin, leaving behind black bruises as he stumbled back and gasped raggedly. His chest clenched painfully, slowing him down as he sank down. 

"Kenneth, you need to run!" Byrd yelled faintly to the side. 

His eyes blurred a little and he fought down air. It's a game, it's a game. They can't hurt me. They can't hurt me...tears tried to well up in his eyes, the only signal of pain his avatar had. He pressed a hand to his throbbing cheek, shivering as he gripped the cold cobblestone ground with his free hand. Passing out felt like the best option. His lungs were already onboard with the plan. 

Someone grabbed the collar of his jacket and hauled him up, though. Recoiling, he curled in on himself, yelling. Cold flushed through his body and he squeezed his eyes shut on instinct.

"Kenneth, hit him and run!" Byrd grunted, sounding like she was fighting. Kenneth didn't have the energy to look her way. 

Trembling, he shook his head. He couldn't hit the man. He couldn't run. He could barely breathe. Everything hurt from his face to his chest as he pressed one hand to his heaving avatar's chest. It's a game, it's a game...the repeated mantra wasn't helping as the NPC laughed and dragged him back, throwing him to the wall. Kenneth hiccupped painfully and curled up. "Stop..." he whispered, panting. 

Someone growled and grunted beside him, another figure smacking the wall. He flinched but slowly looked over to see Byrd sink back with her chest heaving. She flashed a snarl at the NPC's, whom he realized now were all full-blooded humans and holding guns trained on them. The lack of grafter technology should've been obvious, but had escaped his first glance. Now he saw it plainly as he shrank away from their mocking glares. the NPC on the left, the one who'd hit him, spit out a toothpick onto the ground and pointed down the road. "Go get the truck. We're taking these two back with us."

"What's he talking about?" Byrd murmured, her hands curling into firm fists as she recovered and sat up. Her eyes were narrowed into slits as she glared right back at their assailants.

Keeping himself protectively against the wall, Kenneth shrugged and hunched his shoulders up to his ears. "I...I don't know..." he wheezed out. His chest hurt badly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. That was likely a bad sign since he shouldn't have been hyper-aware of his own vitals in-game. He gulped down a large breath in hopes of counteracting it. Passing out a third time while in-game would only freak out Byrd, again, and land him right back in the one place he needed to escape from. 

His eyes trailed after the two NPC's that broke off, though, watching them lumber into the shaded alleyway. Fear crawled over his skin and he pulled his knees to his chest. Is this really any kind of escape, though? he thought. His fingers trailed to his cheek, still faintly throbbing with pain from years past. He grit his teeth and swallowed. 

"Kenneth, you okay?" 

Turning, he saw Byrd staring at him. Her brow was furrowed deep in concern, her hands relaxed. He swallowed and waited for his ragged breathing to even out before he answered her.

"Shaken, that's all," he lied. 

Lips compressing, she nodded and leaned back again, shooting a dark look at the NPC guarding them. There weren't any others and Kenneth wondered why she wasn't running. He frowned a little and looked down, then blinked. Duh, this is the quest. We're supposed to sit this part out. If we were meant to take them down they'd have health bars. His eyes trailed back up. None of the NPCs had the telltale red line over their head showing health points. This was how they got to the quest. He rubbed his cheek. Maybe we need to seek out less violent quests next time. Maybe not go with the shady NPC's in the alleyway, he thought.

A truck roared down the alleyway, pulling to a halt a couple of feet away. A hiss issued from the tires as it stopped and Kenneth looked up at the NPC guarding them. The man waved his gun to the truck and shifted a step that way, his dead eyes squinting. "Get in the cab, both of you. Make a move and I'll take you both out."

Kenneth uncurled his sore body and tried not to wince as he stood up. It was all medical pain from outside the game, probably meaning he'd run himself ragged again with panic. Normally this place is just small transport quests and skill training. I know the main plot is a war, but when did I land in the warzone?

His eyes trailed back to Byrd, though. She dragged herself to her own feet, snarled at the NPC and stepped up behind Kenneth.

"Get in," the NPC repeated, waving again to the now open cab door. Kenneth let his eyes linger on Byrd's scowling face, though. The girl had nothing but courage and occasional annoyance. He wondered what it was like to not fear life. Maybe I could learn something from her, he thought and turned, clambering into the cab. He scooted to the far end where there was more space and again leaned forward, huddling up. He rubbed his fingers gently in a circle over his chest, though, taking slow deep breaths to ease up the pain. 

Byrd slid over beside him, leaving a little space. He looked up into her eyes and she gave him a silent, understanding nod. 

"Thank you," he murmured, his shoulders slumping in relief. 

Her lips curved into a tiny smile. "Anytime." She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, though. "I'll admit, definitely wasn't expecting this when we started the quest."

Kenneth ran a hand through hair and nodded. "Yeah...I was thinking more shady transport quests. Not...warzone."

She grimaced a little and then laughed. "Yup. Oops?"

He laughed too and shook his head. "I blame you. You keep getting us into trouble."

"What can I say?" She shrugged and flashed him a childish grin. "I'm trouble?" 

"Are you trouble? Seriously? You're the definition of trouble! I haven't had a second of peace since I met you."

She stroked at her chin and pursed her lips. "Hmmm, I'll accept it. You haven't run away yet." 

Shaking his head, he leaned back into the seat, his breathing easy again as he stopped rubbing at his chest. "I can't argue with that," he said. Chuckling under his breath, he looked out the window. The truck lurched forward, bumping over cobblestones. Kenneth gripped the side of the seat, quickly glancing around for a seatbelt. Finding none, his grip tightened and he just settled back as best he could, thinking back on Byrds words. He shook his head again to himself with an amused smile. Maybe she was trouble, and maybe she was getting him into a war zone. His eyes trailed back and watched her stare out the window, bouncing in her seat with each rock they rolled over. Her lips curved into that same contented smile as always, oblivious to his gaze. How she stood up to the world, he might never understand. 

Turning her head, she looked back and suddenly gripped the seat when they jounced. A smile curled her lips as they jounced, but Kenneth looked away to grip the seat in front of him. Then the truck lurched, and the bouncing stopped. A breath left Kenneth's lips and he leaned back, putting a hand to his sore chest again. 

"Where do you think they're gonna take us?" He asked after a moment, rolling his head to the side and looking up at Byrd.

She touched a finger to her lips, scanning the blank landscape outside the window. "I don't know," she flicked back a wire falling into her face, "They weren't very specific. I wonder what they want us for?"

Compressing his lips, Kenneth shimmied up in his seat and glanced out the back window at the settlement rapidly disappearing. Most settlements on this area of the map were peaceful, but these guys struck him as the militant type. Full-blooded humans in those settlements were either there because they wanted peace, refuge, or leverage. He swallowed hard and looked forward again. What if we're the leverage in this quest? 

"Not sure..." he said, but his lips tightened a little. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

Byrd nodded and slumped back, tapping her fingers against her arm as she stared out the window. Then she looked back at him. "You have an idea don't you."

He paused and stared at her. "Maybe..."

"What is it?"

His eyes trailed to the NPC's in the front. The driver and the other two who somehow had squashed themselves into the front seat together. Game mechanics weren't always perfect. They're NPC's, can they really hear us? Does it matter? They only have a set amount of responses anyway.

"I think we're leverage," he whispered, leaning over to her.

She narrowed her eyes and slouched over towards him, ducking her head down so she could hear. Nodding at his words, her fingers rose as she tapped at her upper lip. "Hmmm. Leverage for what, though?"

Kenneth sat up when she leaned in and shrugged. He wrapped his arms around himself and settled into the corner, putting his legs between himself and her on the seat. "Not sure," he said. "I mean, you know the game story, right?"

"A little bit. There's some sort of conflict between humans and grafters and in the game you can go on quests and choose resistance cells and such depending on what side of the conflict you're on. Then, of course, there are sympathizers," she said. "What more is there?"

Kenneth picked at the edge of his jacket. The threads couldn't actually come out, but it distracted him enough. "Well, there's a little more than that. That's the basis."

"What am I missing?" She leaned in, steepling her fingers in front of her face.

He glanced up at her, still twirling the thread around his fingers. "Okay...let me give you the short version. This game is about war. You can get as involved as you want until level fifty. You probably knew that. There are Grafters and Full-Blooded Humans like them," he jerked his thumb at the oblivious NPC's in the front, "who are locked in combat with each other through small rebellious moves--"

"--so that's the conflict, got it." She bobbed her head and brushed back her hair, shifting in the seat. The truck bounced a little and Kenneth let go of the thread to grip the seat again as he nodded.

"Yeah, that's the conflict. In the game all the quests, you do benefit one side or the other, though. None of us are entirely sure how the creators intended the story to work since it's all just random quests with the rare story event every few months, but we assume that everything is headed for one large conflict that will be dropped one day. That's the only downside to freeform games like this; you never know what could change."

"That's fair." She rubbed her fingers against the tip of her nose and sat up. "Hm, okay then. I mean, I knew all that, but I'm still now following how we fit into it. It's a war yeah, and we're now prisoners of war I suppose, but how are we leverage? They're NPC's."

Shrugging, Kenneth leaned back and rubbed through his hair. "I assume it's some sort of quest plotline where regardless of who initiates the quest they become POW's as leverage for something in the plotline. Or maybe we're just prisoners because that's the plot. Really, I can't say?" He laughed weakly. "It was just the first thought that came to mind."

"That's fair..." she nodded her head and leaned back as well, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes trailed up to the window as the rolling green hills and little dilapidated houses whizzed past them. "I guess we'll have to wait and find out."

Kenneth nodded and averted his gaze to the window. Only rocks and grey hills stood out from his half of the view, though. He let his hand fall to his lap and again pressed a couple of fingers to his chest below his collarbone. The pain had long faded, but he could still feel the faint stabbing from each labored breath he took outside the game. Like a set of rocks in his lungs. Cold crept up his skin and he shuddered, trying to shake out the thought. Turning his head, he glanced back at Byrd as she smiled at the houses outside her window. 

"Hey," he said. 

She glanced back. "Yeah?"

His voice faltered a moment, wondering if he should really be prying in this way. Swallowing back fear, though, he parted his lips. "What's your favorite color?"

"Favorite color?" She cocked her head, chewing at her lip.

He nodded, exhaling softly. "Yeah. What is it?"

Cocking her head, she pursed her lips, then nodded decisively. "Purple. Yours?"

He gazed past her at the sunlight filtering onto her brown skin, leaning his head back on the seat. No one had asked him that in a long time, and he couldn't remember the last person that had cared. He smiled. "Yellow."