AlterWorld

Another teleport popped outside. A furious level 205 cleric girl stormed into the hall.

"Fuckyall! Very nice, fucking off in the middle of a fight!"

The warrior shot out his arm, calling for silence. He was all blissed out.

Having finished the cigarette in two deep drags, he stepped closer, hovering over me. "How many've you got? I'm taking 'em all."

The patrons grumbled, rising from their seats. The paladin swung round and growled at the angrier ones, with little effect. I heard the grating of unsheathing knives.

Fuckyall thought better of it. "Very well. Think you can sell me a couple packs? My whole soul's on fire. Have been smoking nothing but moss and straw for two years flat."

"I only have 'em loose," I warned him placing about fifty cigarettes on the bar. "Actually, it's been a promotion. I've been offering them for free, one apiece."

The paladin waved the idea away. One of the Russian cluster's most powerful warriors, he was too used to shaping the world after his own needs. No way was he going to adjust to any amount of senseless regulations created by some anonymous paper-pushers. "How much?"

"Two gold apiece," I quoted the price I'd already calculated.

Fuckyall slapped his pockets and grimaced. Pulling a massive bracelet off his wrist, he threw it onto the table. "Take it. You're worth it. Barman! Three bottles of brandy and the best room you can find in this rat hole. I need some rest."

In the meantime, more teleports started popping outside. The news of the cigarettes arrival was spreading fast in this world.

Chapter Twenty-Six

When I finally stopped distributing cigarettes to the eager, I didn't feel good. Honestly, I was scared by what I'd just seen. These weren't people wishing to cadge a smoke. These were addicts; this was cold turkey raising its ugly head. In the center of the city, right before my own eyes, decent citizens were prepared to kill each other over a fix, jumping at their biggest paladin hero's throat. Only now I started to understand what kind of genie I had just let out of the bottle. The terrible thing was, there was no way I could stuff him back in now.

Possessing this kind of recipe was like giving a fist-sized diamond to a hobo. The stone wouldn't make him rich; if anything, it would put an end to his life pretty soon. Then it would travel on, leaving a trail of blood wherever it went until it finally came to rest on a shelf in some billionaire's vault.

Potentially, this recipe meant millions: too much money and influence involved to allow a lone newcomer to make it. Whether I liked it or not, I had to become part of one of the more influential groups. It had probably been stupid of me to give myself away so openly. I should have tried to produce small batches and auction them for exorbitant prices. But then again, who would pay that kind of money for some obscure Emperor's Smoldering Delight, even if it looked like a cigarette?

Most importantly, this wasn't what the Admins were after. They didn't need eighty percent of a million, even. It was peanuts for them. They had simply decided to use the entrepreneurial youngster to beta-test the market. They wanted to study the demand, double-check its influence on the economy and see the public's reaction. Whatever happened, they could always tell the powers that be that they had nothing to do with it and blame it on the player's personal initiative. It wasn't their fault he'd mixed up a few ingredients that allowed him to puff rainbow smoke at the ceiling. Those players just couldn't help experimenting with substances, trying this and that, from moss to straw, so now it was seaweed's turn. They'd tell the powers that be that they were more than welcome to bring the scumbag to justice—if they got hold of him. Because the scumbag just happened to be a perma player and out of the real world's jurisdiction.

I opened the Wiki to check Russian clans' ratings. I had to find a strong syndicate to cover me. The Vets were #14 in the overall ratings. The Olders, #3. That was another unknown quantity. Logically, they were the ones to turn to. But… How sure was I that Russian get-rich-quick billionaires wouldn't stab the ambitious loner in the back? In real life, would I go cap in hand to one of those? No way. I'd rather die.

The Vets dropped to #32 in the economic ratings but made the Top 10 because of their military power.

Talk about the devil. Eric walked into the i

For a moment, the two vets froze. Then they looked around, noticed me still standing with a couple of remaining cigarettes in my hand, and walked over to the bar.

Dan winced studying the packed room choking in smoke. Eric, ever the joker, slapped my shoulder with his steel hand. "I knew that if there was an anomaly somewhere, we had to find you at its center."

Dan didn't mince words. He gestured around the room. "Your work?"

I lowered a guilty head. "It was supposed to be a free promotion. I wanted to make everyone happy. Turned out, it was more like entering a cageful of hungry tigers carrying a bowl of steak. Can you imagine they very nearly ground Fuckyall into dust, of all people? All because of those wretched cigarettes."

Dan shook his head. "This is only the begi

I cringed. "No need to be so negative. I already know I might need to turn to someone. Had you seen all the windows open in my interface, you'd have known I'm already working in this direction. Trust me I've already looked the Vets up, too."

There! If they wanted me to come crawling to them with my recipe on a silver platter, I wouldn't give in so easily. Let them make the first move and make me an offer I'll find hard to resist.

"Is that your recipe?" Dan said. "Did you make it?"

"Yeah."

"Lots of people tried before you," he added tentatively.

"You can't make it from scratch. It's too obvious. You have to create a sequence of tasks leading to the end result you need."

Eric shrugged. "Bullshit. Wait till the Admins come back to their senses tomorrow. They'll axe your recipe before you know it. So before it happens, how about a few?"

"Oops, sorry, guys. Completely forgot."

I handed them a cigarette each. The two men pulled at them with relish.

"Too good," Eric managed.

I wasn't going to trash my merchandise. "Talking about the Admins. No way they're go

Dan perked up. "Are you sure? Do you realize how that changes everything?"

"Read this," I forwarded him the letter from the Administration.

He sca

I thought about it. He'd somehow managed to unscramble the whole thing. Looked like he was right. My diamond was even more precious than I'd thought. Right now it had grown to the size of a melon.

I nodded, "Exactly."