Debt of Souls

Chapter 2

The storm howled over the Friedensbrücke, spray from the river flecking Charlie’s bruised face. 

The hooded stranger’s silver ring caught a shard of lightning, the crest of Kessler Holdings gleaming like a threat.

Charlie backed against the railing, knuckles white on the slick metal. The river below was a black maw, hungry and cold. “Stay back,” he warned, voice hoarse.

The stranger’s low chuckle was almost lost in the wind. “That’s not how this works.”

“You work for Kessler?”

A pause, deliberate. “I work for the Game.”

The stranger lunged. Charlie twisted, ribs screaming, barely dodging a gloved fist. The impact rattled the railing where his head had been. “Why me?” Charlie spat, staggering to his feet. “Why clear my debt?”

“Because you’re valuable.” Another strike, Charlie ducked under it, slipping on the wet pavement.

The thug on the ground groaned. Consciousness returning. Charlie’s eyes darted to the fallen pistol near the van. Ten feet away. Too far.

The stranger closed the distance with predatory grace. “Kessler’s been watching you. He wants to see how you play.”

“You tell him,” Charlie snarled, “I’m not playing his damn game.”

The stranger’s fist crashed into his shoulder, spinning him. Charlie rammed an elbow into the hooded chest, felt the impact reverberate.

“Better than I expected,” the voice admitted, amused. “The transfer boosted you.”

“Boosted me?”

“You’ll figure it out, if you survive tonight.”

Another lunge. Charlie feigned left, then sprinted right, pain tearing through his side. His boots splashed through a puddle as he dove for the pistol. Fingers closed around cold steel. The stranger’s boot pinned his wrist. “Too slow.”

Charlie gritted his teeth, forcing the words through clenched jaws. “Then finish it.”

Instead of a bullet, the stranger bent closer, voice a whisper edged with menace: “The Game doesn’t end that easily.”

A sudden horn blared, a truck barreling across the bridge. The stranger glanced toward the headlights. Charlie seized the moment, twisting free, gun in hand.

The truck whooshed past, spraying water that veiled them in mist. When it cleared, the stranger was gone, vanished as if erased from the night. “Damn it…” Charlie lowered the pistol, chest heaving.

The thug by the van stirred. “Wha, what the hell was that?”

Charlie stalked forward, gun leveled. “Tell Kessler I’m coming for him.”

The man whimpered, backing away on his elbows. “Y-you don’t get it. He’s not.”

“Say his name again,” Charlie snapped.

The thug’s eyes widened. He pointed shakily toward the skyline. “He’s not the one you should fear.”

A low rumble echoed beneath the bridge, deep and unnatural, like stone grinding against stone. 

Charlie froze, glancing over the railing. The river churned violently, though the rain had slackened, then a new voice, disembodied and metallic, resonated inside Charlie’s skull: “Transfer stabilized. Tutorial unlocked. Objective: Acquire assets. Opponents: Unrestricted.”

His pulse spiked. The thug scrambled to his feet and fled into the darkness, leaving Charlie alone on the slick bridge, pistol trembling in his hand.

The city’s lights blinked in the distance, cold and indifferent. Somewhere out there, Markus Kessler waited. Somewhere out there, the Game had already begun.

Charlie stumbled off the bridge, the pistol tucked under his damp jacket. Every step jarred his battered ribs, but adrenaline drove him forward.

The streets of Frankfurt at 2 a.m. were nearly deserted, save for the occasional taxi splashing through puddles. 

Neon signs flickered over shuttered kebab shops. The city’s financial towers loomed ahead, silent gods of glass and steel.

He ducked into a recessed doorway, shivering as the rain-soaked fabric clung to his skin. His breath fogged in the cool air. “Think,” he muttered. “Find Lucas.”

His phone was gone, probably smashed in the beating. No cash. No ID. Just a stolen pistol and a phantom voice whispering objectives. “Alright, Game,” he said aloud, half-crazed. “Let’s see your rules.”

A sudden blue flash ignited the air above his palm. A holographic interface hovered there, impossible yet precise. Numbers scrolled:

Balance: €500,000,000

Assets: 0

Rank: Unassigned

Tutorial Objective: Acquire assets within 24 hours. Failure: Forfeit.

“Forfeit,” Charlie whispered. “What does that mean?”

Forfeit: Termination.

His stomach tightened. Footsteps splashed in a nearby alley. Charlie snapped the pistol up, but it was only a hunched old man dragging a bag of bottles. 

The man glanced at him, eyes wide, and shuffled away without a word. “Lucas,” Charlie repeated, pushing off the wall.

He moved fast, keeping to shadows until he reached a familiar building, a crumbling apartment block with peeling paint. He buzzed an unmarked buzzer three times, waited, then twice more.

A voice crackled over the intercom. “If you’re selling stolen watches, you’re late.”

“Lucas. It’s me.”

The line went silent for a moment, then clicked. “Charlie? Jesus. You’re supposed to be dead.”

The door buzzed open. Charlie slipped inside, climbing the narrow stairwell two steps at a time. Lucas Brandt’s apartment reeked of instant noodles and old circuitry. Screens lined the walls, casting a blue glow over scattered cables.

Lucas, a wiry man with blond stubble and perpetually tired eyes, gaped at him. “You look like you crawled out of a gutter.”

“Not far off.” Charlie dropped onto a battered couch. “Kessler’s dogs jumped me.”

“They said you took the fall for him.” Lucas’s fingers flew over a keyboard, pulling up news feeds. “The whole city thinks you vanished.”

“Not vanished,” Charlie said. “Upgraded.” He raised his palm, and the holographic balance flickered again.

Lucas’s jaw dropped. “What the, how.”

“Some kind of system. Cleared my debt, gave me half a billion euros.”

Lucas leaned closer. “You’re serious? That’s, Jesus, Charlie, that’s impossible.”

“It’s real enough.” Charlie’s voice hardened. “And Kessler’s in on it.”

Lucas hesitated. “Then you’re playing in a league where people don’t just disappear, they get erased.”

“Help me hack into Kessler’s holdings. Find leverage.”

“You want to poke the devil’s nest? You don’t even know the rules of this… thing.”

“Then I’ll learn fast.”

A faint hum interrupted them. The lights flickered. One of Lucas’s screens went black, replaced by a blinking blue icon: a single playing card, the Ace of Spades. Lucas swallowed hard. “That’s not me.”

The icon expanded until it filled the screen. Text scrolled across: “First Opponent Assigned. Location: Zeil District. Deadline: 03:00.”

The words faded, replaced by a map of Frankfurt’s bustling shopping street, now eerily deserted. Lucas cursed under his breath. “They’re sending you into the open.”

Charlie stood, wincing. “Then we move. Now.”

The Zeil at night was a ghost of itself, shops shuttered, rainwater pooling in the slick tiles beneath the towering billboards. 

Charlie’s breath puffed in the cold air as he and Lucas emerged from a side street. “Are you sure about this?” Lucas muttered, clutching a small tablet under his jacket.

“No,” Charlie said flatly, scanning the shadows. “But the Game doesn’t give options.”

The blue holographic map on his palm pulsed, marking a spot near the old fountain. Each step echoed unnaturally in the empty arcade. 

Somewhere, water dripped, a metronome of dread. Lucas whispered, “This is insane. We should?”

A sudden click of heels silenced him. A woman stepped from the shadows, her blonde hair plastered damp against her sharp cheekbones. 

She wore a tailored black coat, its hem brushing sleek boots. In her gloved hand, a silver revolver gleamed under the neon lights. “Mr. Charlie,” she said smoothly, her German accent crisp. “First opponent.”

Charlie raised his pistol. “Who sent you?”

“The same one who saved you.” She smirked. “The Game doesn’t tolerate hesitation.”

Lucas inched back. “Charlie.”

“Stay behind me,” Charlie warned.

The woman circled, her revolver steady. “You have one chance: surrender your assets.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Charlie snapped.

“It means,” she said, “your life, your balance, your future.”

She fired. The bullet sparked off a billboard frame inches from his head. Charlie dove behind a bench, rain splattering as he slid. Lucas scrambled for cover, tablet clutched tight.

Charlie popped up, fired two shots. The woman ducked behind a pillar, laughing, a soft, unnerving sound. “Good reflexes,” she called. “Kessler chose well.”

The holographic display flared: Warning: Deadline Approaching, 02:54

Charlie gritted his teeth. “She’s stalling me.”

Lucas’s voice trembled. “There’s movement, left side!”

A second figure appeared, a tall man in a hooded coat, twin daggers flashing under the neon glow. He advanced silently, cutting off Charlie’s escape. “Two opponents?” Charlie hissed.

The woman’s revolver barked again, forcing him lower. The hooded man leapt onto the fountain’s edge, blades gleaming. Lucas ducked behind a trash bin. “Charlie, we’re boxed in!”

Charlie’s heart pounded. The Game’s voice whispered in his skull, cold and calm: Acquire or be acquired.

Rain hammered the tiles. The hooded man lunged. Charlie fired, missed. Steel flashed. Pain seared his shoulder as a blade grazed him.

He kicked the attacker’s knee, buying a heartbeat, then rolled toward the fountain base. His ribs screamed. 

The woman fired again, one shot tearing through his coat sleeve. “Time’s running out,” she sang.

The blue display blinked furiously: 02:58, Deadline Critical

Charlie’s gaze darted to a service ladder leading to the fountain’s maintenance hatch. A risky escape. “Lucas!” he shouted. “Run on my mark!”

The hooded man closed in. The woman raised her revolver for a kill shot. “Now!” Charlie roared.

Lucas bolted. Charlie sprang, ramming the hooded man into the fountain’s edge. The revolver barked, a bullet shattered stone inches from his head.

Water from the fountain sprayed, mixing with rain and blood. Charlie grappled the hooded man, twisting the dagger away. The woman advanced, revolver aimed, 

A sudden, deafening crack split the air. Not a gunshot, something bigger. The billboard above them shuddered, lights flickering, then collapsed, crashing toward the plaza.

Charlie’s eyes widened. The massive structure plummeted, straight toward him, Lucas, and the two attackers.