The Immortality Game

“No, I’ve never been here,” he murmured.

“Don’t like to gamble, huh?” Oskar said.

Tyoma glanced sideways at the gangster. “You chat like this with all your kidnap victims?”

Oskar pulled the sim-cig from his mouth and laughed. “I like you, old man. Most people we bring in to see Viktor blubber like babies, weeping and begging and making me sick.” He held a hand up and clenched it. “I just wanna punch them bloody. Come on! Be funny some more.”

Tyoma scowled and clenched his jaw. The air car skimmed silently through the entrance to the parking garage and settled into an empty spot in a row of similar cars.

The big mobster, Alexei, was the first to leap out as the doors slid upward. He glared at Tyoma and jerked a thumb toward a nearby doorway. “Come on. Out!”

Tyoma sidled out of the door, but his foot caught on the edge and he would have sprawled onto the concrete if Alexei hadn’t grabbed him and yanked him up by his jacket.

“You’re clumsy, grandpa,” Alexei said. “Now go on, walk.” He propelled Tyoma toward the doorway with a shove, and Tyoma had to catch himself on the wall to keep from falling.

“You ever heard of treating your elders with respect, young man?” Tyoma said.

Alexei grabbed Tyoma again and guided him through the doorway. “I’d respect you right off the edge of the building if I didn’t think Viktor might like to see you.”

The smaller mobster chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first person he’s tossed off a building today.”

The corridor was dimly lit and the stench of stale alcohol wafted up from the green shag carpet. To the right Tyoma heard the sounds of the casino—tinkling, ringing, buzzing, laughter, and shouts of dismay or glee. Alexei snatched his arm and tugged him in the opposite direction, toward a tube lift. The big man waved Oskar in first and then sandwiched Tyoma into the middle before saying to the wall speaker: “All the way up.”

Tyoma barely felt movement as the lift began to glide upward. “Why do you need me? You have what you were after. I can’t do anything more for you.”

“Have to guarantee you gave us the right merchandise,” Oskar said. “I kind of hope you didn’t; I love watching Viktor when he goes to work on someone.”

It was stifling in the small lift with the two goons pressed up against Tyoma. He nudged Alexei in the back to try to gain some space. “Have you ever considered taking an interest in something other than threatening or intimidating people? Take up body surfing in Thailand perhaps?”

Oskar grunted. “You behind the times, grandpa? Don’t need to leave your couch to do things like that.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Tyoma said. “Reality is passé.”

“We get plenty of reality every day,” Alexei said. “And then we can go home and create an even better one.”

“What are young fellows like you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off fighting in the war?”

“You really are an idiot. What’s that word?” Oskar snapped his fingers several times. “Naive! That’s it. Only the powerless waste their lives doing stupid shit like that.”

The lift stopped and the big gangster stepped out into a small tiled vestibule with two leather benches lining the walls to either side of a single steel doorway. Oskar propelled Tyoma onto one of the benches, while Alexei stood in front of the door and spread his arms wide. Tyoma couldn’t see what scanned him, but a few moments later Alexei stepped aside and waved Oskar forward to receive the same scan. Then it was Tyoma’s turn. He wanted to get all of this over with, whatever was coming, so he jumped up and mimicked the stances he’d seen the two goons use. He felt a pulse of warmth pass through his body and his spine tingled. The door in front of them slid upward, revealing an oddly-angled but richly appointed room. One wall sloped inwards to the ceiling. Another was set as a full-length window to watch the approaching sunset through the towering thicket of skyscrapers that made up the city center. The breathtaking view showed Tyoma that the room must be at, or at least near, the apex of the pyramid.

A cough from Oskar snapped Tyoma’s attention back to the room. The two gangsters stood at loose attention, facing a long scarlet and gold divan on which sat a horrifying man, if indeed he was a man at all. The figure wore an expensive dark suit over his slender but muscle-corded body, but his face…‌his face looked like something out of an ancient sci-fi horror vid. From chin to forehead it seemed to be titanium or some similar metal. The teeth were sharp and grinned like a bare skull, and the eyes were tiny disks that flashed vivid blue-white light as they moved.

“We got it, boss,” Alexei said.

The monstrous man rose smoothly and held out a hand to take the card from the gangster. Tyoma was surprised at how normal and mellow—almost kind—the voice sounded from the robotic death mask that was the man’s face.

“At last. The general will be pleased.” The man turned his frightening eyes on Tyoma. “I am Viktor. Please sit.” His arm indicated a comfortable-looking armchair to the left of the divan.