Chapter 5
Lexi
T en days have passed since my visit to the Savage Legion’s clubhouse. I went back home that night right after Zen dropped me off. I haven’t set foot outside my house since, which isn’t unusual for me. I haven’t left my house much since my father was murdered.
Memories pop into my mind of the morning I was released from the hospital. I dreaded coming home for several reasons, the foremost among them being that my father’s presence would be conspicuously missing. I miss him every single day. It’s true what they say—you never get over losing someone you love, you just learn to live with the pain.
Another thing that made me dread coming home was the thought of cleaning up his blood from our living room floor. Thank God I was spared that hardship because my neighbors had arranged for a crime scene cleanup team to deal with the house. That simple kindness was enough to make me tear up, just thinking about it. Now, I come and go through the back door, avoiding that room entirely. Being there brings the horror of that night back again. I’ve gotten good at forgetting that whole part of the house exists. I could move—in fact, that’s probably what most people would do—but all my memories of my father are here both good and bad, and leaving would be like getting rid of the final link that I still have of him.
Tonight, I ordered dinner from DoorDelivery. Their app is convenient, and they’re good about getting my food to me hot. For a girl who isn’t wild about cooking, that app is a godsend.
This evening, my driver was being a pain in the proverbial ass. He’s already texted me three times for directions. Each time, I gave him clear directions straight to my back door. Each time I told him to set the bag outside my door. Now he’s knocking. I turn from making iced tea and yell through the closed door, “Just leave it on the porch and thank you for delivering.”
I hear him mumbling something and then he tries to turn the doorknob. I’m shocked because I’ve never heard of a delivery driver trying to enter someone’s house without permission before. Something feels off about this guy and I can hear him muttering to himself. I press my ear against the door, trying to decipher what he’s saying. It takes me a minute to realize he isn’t saying actual words.
I yell, “Leave the bag and get off my property or I’m calling the police.”
I jump up to look out the peephole and see him walking away quickly with no bag in his hands. He then gets into his car and drives off.
Only then do I open my door, grab my food, and close the door, locking it behind me. I lift up the bag to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with. The restaurant had taped the bag shut with tamper-proof, branded tape, and the food smells amazing. Since it looks legit, I write off the driver as a crazy tweaker and carry the delicious smelling bag down to the safe room.
That’s where I’ve been staying since I came home from the hospital. After putting my dinner down on the desk, I walk over and carefully lock myself into the room. One of the first things I did was hire a locksmith to reverse the lock on the safe room door so that it locks from the inside rather than the outside. I never want to be locked in again. The feeling of helpless rage that took over when I couldn’t get out of the room to trade myself for my father still simmers just below the surface, even today.
I grab a couple of diet sodas from my mini-fridge. Circuit boards and components fall from the top and crash down onto the floor because I’m in the middle of building myself a new computer. Picking the pieces up and balancing them on top of the mini-fridge, I turn, sit down, and begin surfing the web while I eat.
On the rare occasion that I can compartmentalize the horror of my father’s death and shove it out of my mind, I find my mind drifting back to that night at the Savage Legion’s clubhouse. The men there were very different from my father and every other man I’d ever met. Different doesn’t mean better though, I remind myself.
Pulling open the bag, I take a big bite of my chicken sandwich and check my messages. I have a real-life best friend from school named Cindy. She’s Kayla’s older sister. I also have an online best friend. Her name is LawlessHate. When her screen name pops up, I immediately send her a message.
Me: LawlessHate, it’s about time you showed up.
My friend is a straight shooter who hates lawlessness with a burning passion. Despite knowing her online for years, I know little of her real life. It might sound weird but that’s the way I like it. Online we can be whoever we want to be.
LawlessHate: You forget, I’m ahead of you. It’s breakfast time here.
Me: Well, you missed PrankWarrior. He’s on London time this week and that puts him five hours ahead of me.
LawlessHate: So he’s eight hours behind me in Perth. And don’t forget MadHitter—he’s an Aussie like me.
Me: We need to work harder to sync our schedules.
LawlessHate: Ain’t that the truth.
LawlessHate: You’re not gonna believe what I’m seeing in the KryptoKlan forum right now.
I head over to have a look and immediately know what she’s referring to.
Me: Some dumbass has his crypto seed phrase out in the open. I can’t believe anyone intelligent enough to buy crypto could be so careless.
LawlessHate: Girl, you know what to do.
Me: I zap the money right out of his wallet and isolate it into my cold storage wallet.
LawlessHate: Don’t give that idiot back his crypto without making him sweat.
Me: Agreed. We both know that if I make it easy, he won’t learn anything.
LawlessHate: That fool is damn lucky you stole his money before a real thief picked it off him. Someone needs to create a rule that forces newbies to take an e-learning class on digital security before they’re allowed to buy crypto.
Me: Whoever this is, must be extra stupid. They had five grand in their wallet and weren’t careful with their seed phrase.
LawlessHate: Wish I could stay long enough to see them squirm but I’ve gotta head to work. Let me know how it all works out, Chaos.
Me: Will do. Be sure to lock your doors and have a good day.
Now, I know that I’m probably annoying my friend by telling her to lock her doors. She’s a grown-ass woman and knows how to be safe in the world. The problem is the little voice in the back of my head wants me to caution everyone to be safe because I’ve learned the hard way that it only takes one time of forgetting to lock the door for something bad to happen. She takes it all in stride and I appreciate her not making me feel weird about what has become one of my biggest flaws.
I watch the newbie panicking because his money has been stolen. I don’t say anything for a while because I want him to calm down a bit so we can have a real conversation. I need for him to know that the world is full of people who will steal your crypto, break into your house, and even kill your beloved family members if you give them half a chance. This kid needs to smarten up and he needs to do it fast. Later on down the line, when he realizes how wildly negligent he was, he’ll thank me for saving him from having his money stolen for real. I’m sure of it. And this is why I love being social on the internet instead of in real life, I can be who I want to be without fear.
In real life, I’m a perpetually scared woman who’s always looking over her shoulder, afraid that a cold-blooded killer is looking for me. I live in the safe room of my family home, work a remote day job, get my groceries delivered, and rarely leave my house.
However, on the internet, I’m free as a bird—anonymous, confident, and powerful. I can be anyone I want, do anything I want, and prove to myself and my friends that I have compassion, integrity, and that I am willing to rescue some hapless fool from himself. Online, I have a life, and I matter. This is something I desperately need in my life right now.
Eventually, the newbie circles back around to me. Their screen name is WiseInvestor. They clearly aren’t very wise though.
WiseInvestor: You stole from me.
Me: How did you arrive at that conclusion?
WiseInvestor: I talked to everyone else who was active on the platform when my money was stolen. They all say they didn’t take it.
Me: Oh, in that case, I didn’t take it either.
WiseInvestor: What? No. It has to be you.
Me: It’s not logical to think that if we all say we didn’t take your crypto then it must be the last person you talked to. You know that, right?
WiseInvestor: I’m not stupid. You stole my money, and I want it back.
Me: How exactly did I steal your crypto?
WiseInvestor: You know how. My seed phrase was accidentally exposed.
Me: That wasn’t an accident. It was just negligence on your part.
WiseInvestor: Whatever. Give me my damn money back.
Me: If you take an online training course on digital security, I might help you get your money back.
WiseInvestor: So, you’re some kind of old hag who likes to teach other people life lessons and this is your way of punishing me for not running a tight security game with my crypto, right?
Me: See, you’re learning already. I’m off to play World of Wonders. When you forward me verification that you’ve completed a course in digital security, I’ll help you find your crypto.
I’m amused by how WiseInvestor picked up on my handle of ChaosCrone and thought that means I’m an old woman. From the veiled insult, I’m guessing the not-so-wise investor is male. The reason I chose that handle was because once guys find out you’re a young woman in the gaming world, good gaming partners often turn into sleaze machines, throwing out one-liners at the speed of light. It can get annoying fast. Being ChaosCrone enables me to have a feminine persona online without men hitting on me constantly.
I log into World of Wonders and ignore the whining newbie. All he needs to do is take the digital security training. If he can’t be bothered to do that, I’ll still give him his money back in a week or so.
When I go into the lobby of World of Wonders and begin looking through rooms to visit, a screenname I recognize pops up.
Me: Hello, Architect. How are you tonight?
Architect: I’m well, ChaosCrone. What room are you thinking of entering tonight?
Me: The Winter Palace looks interesting.
Architect: I’ve been in there before. It’s a challenging scenario to beat.
Me: I had a friend mention that to me a couple of weeks ago. He was cryptic but said things aren’t what they seem and that everything represents something else. What do you think that means?
There’s an extra-long, dramatic pause on his end before he responds.
Architect: That’s an accurate description of the dangers you will be facing. Goodnight, ChaosCrone, and good luck mastering the Winter Palace.
Before I can respond, his name disappears from the game. I spend hours wandering around the Winter Palace, getting killed in the game a bunch of times, but eventually using logic to make my way through the scenario. By the time I’m finished, I’m exhausted. I crawl onto the pull-out bed in the safe room and pull my favorite plush blanket up around me.
I fall asleep to images of Zen and the Architect duking it out in World of Wonders. Truth be told, they’re about equal in intelligence and proficiency at playing the game. If they went up against each other I could make a fortune selling tickets to the event.
Until I met Zen, the Architect and I were part of a small team of about twenty elite gamers who dominated World of Wonders. I yawn and decide that if I ever see Zen again, I’m gonna ask what his screen name in the game is. The thought of matching wits with the handsome, tattooed biker is exhilarating.
Zen isn’t my usual type, but there’s something strangely appealing about him that has nothing to do with looks. Maybe it has to do with his laid-back demeanor. He has a nice way about him. I find being with him both relaxing and exciting. Who knew hot bikers could be my thing?