Dragon Ops: Dragons vs. Robots

After the soccer game we headed to Uncle Jack’s house down the street, where we were staying for the night. Our parents had gone away to Vegas, Dad tagging along with Mom to her programmer’s conference. Mom hadn’t wanted to leave us; she was still being super overprotective after what had happened at Dragon Ops. Also, I was pretty sure she still didn’t completely trust her brother, Uncle Jack, since he was the one who had brought us there to begin with. But in the end, Dad had talked her into it, saying we all needed some time to chill. And so they went, leaving us six different phone numbers to call if anything went even remotely wrong while they were away.

“Hey, guys!” Uncle Jack greeted us as he opened his front door. “How was the game?”

“Ian did great!” Lilli said cheerfully.

“I literally caused the team to lose,” I reminded her, walking into the house and slumping down at the kitchen table. My mood had not changed on the walk home. If anything, I felt more depressed. What was wrong with me? Seeing dragons on the soccer field? If anyone had any idea of why I really missed that shot, I’d be the laughingstock of school.

“I doubt that,” Uncle Jack said, slapping me on the back. He reached into the freezer and pulled out a half gallon of cookies-and-cream ice cream—my favorite flavor—and set it on the table. “Dessert for dinner?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. “That always made me feel better after a sports game gone bad.” He chuckled. “Which… let’s just say… happened quite a bit back in the day.”

I gave a half laugh, knowing he was trying to make me feel better. Uncle Jack was awesome like that. And I knew I was his favorite relative. When I was younger, we used to spend hours playing video games together. He worked in games, so he always had beta versions of all the new ones that hadn’t even come out yet. And since his own son, Derek, didn’t care about gaming? I was the one he called to test them out.

But not anymore. I hadn’t played a video game in three months. Not since that fateful day I’d gotten the mysterious message while playing Fields of Fantasy. The message I was sure had come from him. Even now, if I closed my eyes, I could still picture that white star spinning across my screen. The terrifying words scrolling below.

Do you want to play again?

Do you want to play again?

Do you want to play again?

At first, Lilli had been freaked out, too. Especially after I told her how Atreus had escaped the game and no one knew where he went. But, in the end, she rationalized it all away. Even if he was out there, she reminded me, he couldn’t hurt us anymore. We were no longer in a game. In real life, we were safe.

Which I knew, in my head anyway, was probably true. But it didn’t make me feel any better when I turned on my computer the next day and saw the message again, scrolling endlessly down the screen. His message. He was out there. And what if he could someday figure out a way to get to me? He was a state-of-the-art AI, after all. Which meant he was always learning. And he had a whole world of information at his disposal now that he was out of his game. What if he was mining the web even now, looking for ways to get at me—in real life?

I closed my laptop that day. And I hadn’t opened it since.

“Ice cream for dinner sounds great to me!” Lilli cried, grabbing the container and yanking off the lid. “The only question is, do I bother with a bowl or just scoop it straight from the tub?”

“Let’s stick with bowls,” Aunt Robin said, coming into the kitchen. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a stack of blue plastic bowls. “We’re sugar freaks here, not savages.”

“Also,” Uncle Jack added, “please don’t tell your mother. She would kill me dead if she found out I made you a meal without a single leafy green involved.”

I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little better at their joking. The humiliation of the soccer game was starting to fade as I grabbed a bowl and wrestled the ice cream tub away from Lilli, who had already helped herself to a gigantic scoop. After I scooped out a few oversized scoops of my own, Uncle Jack tossed me the chocolate syrup, which I generously applied, topping it all off with a mountain of whipped cream.

Ice cream made everything better.

Uncle Jack looked around, frowning. “Where’s number one son?” he asked his wife, suddenly realizing Derek wasn’t with us.

She rolled her eyes. “In his bedroom, of course. Sucking in the last few milliseconds of screen time before we cut him off for the night.” She turned to me. “Do you mind going and getting him? Let him know about the ice cream?”

“Sure. No problem.” I pushed away from my chair and rose to my feet. As I did, Uncle Jack’s phone started to ring.

He glanced at the caller ID, frowning. “I’ve got to take this,” he said. Then he shot us a scolding look. “Don’t even think about finishing that off before I get back!”

We laughed, and he disappeared out of the kitchen, heading to his office down the hall. I took one more heaping bite of ice cream, then followed him down the same hall, toward my cousin’s bedroom. Derek had his door shut, and music with a heavy bass sound was blaring from the speakers.

I banged on the door. “Hey!” I cried. “Your mom says to come eat.”

There was no answer. I tried again. “It’s ice cream for dinner night,” I added, then tried the handle. The door was locked. Of course.

“I’ll get some later,” he called back. “I’m working on my music.”

“Cool,” I said. “Can’t wait to hear.”

After his adventures as a bard in Dragon Ops, Derek had learned to embrace his love for music and now spent most of his time in his room, playing his bass guitar. He was good, too. And sometimes he’d even ask me to jam with him. (I sorta, kinda could play drums, though not very well.) We still weren’t besties or anything, but at least we weren’t outright enemies like before Dragon Ops. One thing good that had come out of the game, I guess.

Sometimes I wondered if Derek still had nightmares, too. Probably not. He was way too cool.

I sighed, feeling depressed all over again. If only I could just talk to someone about all this. It was killing me, keeping it inside. Like there was this powder keg in my stomach waiting to blow. So bad, it literally hurt sometimes.

I left Derek’s room and headed back down the hall, pausing at Uncle Jack’s door, my hand instinctively reaching for the knob. Maybe I could talk to him about it. I mean, we’d always been close, bonding over video games. And he did work for Dragon Ops—so he already knew everything that had happened. He might think I was crazy, but at least I was pretty sure he wouldn’t laugh at me.

My hand wrapped around the door handle. I swallowed hard, daring myself to push it open. To step inside. To confess all.

“Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

Uncle Jack’s sudden exclamation startled me, and I leapt back from the door, jerking my hand away.

“Since when?” he barked. “Why didn’t anyone contact me sooner?”

I frowned. His voice sounded anxious, tense—panicked even. Much different from the friendly teasing voice he’d been using in the kitchen only minutes before. Was something wrong?

I leaned back in, pressing my ear to the door. Yes, I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop. Especially since a lot of what my uncle discussed was supersecret, video-game-related, and totally off-limits to normal people. Though, to be honest, that was one of the best reasons to listen at his door. Once, he had revealed this amazing exploit for Fields of Fantasy that ended up giving me unlimited gold to spend with the merchants. The code worked for months before they installed a patch that shut it off, and by then I had pretty much bought out the game.

But this didn’t sound like a video game hack. This sounded way more serious.

“Let me get this straight,” I heard Uncle Jack say. “Dragon Ops is set to open next month, and you’re telling me you can’t find its game maker?”

Wait, what?

I stared at the closed door, my mind racing as his words sank in. Was he talking about Hiro? Hiro Takanama—the Dragon Ops creator? He was missing?

We’d met Hiro when we first arrived at the Dragon Ops theme park. He’d taken over the company from his father, Atsuo Takanama, who had started the Fields of Fantasy franchise back in the 1990s. Hiro was a computer genius, an expert in artificial intelligence and game design. A rising video game legend.

Also, a father.

We’d met Hiro’s daughter, Mirai, who went by the name Ikumi when we were in the game. At first we assumed she was playing virtually from back in her home in California. It wasn’t until much later that we learned the real Mirai had died at the age of twelve from an autoimmune disease. And her father, in his grief, had made a digital copy of her brain and uploaded it to the game. Which left her alive—in a sense—but also trapped alone in a simulation she wasn’t allowed to leave. When we found her, she was desperate to escape the prison her father had put her in.

Not that Hiro had meant to be cruel. He loved his daughter. He wanted to protect her. But in the end, we convinced him to let her go. She needed her freedom, too. Just like the rest of us. And so he’d let her out of the game, allowing her to roam the cloud, free.

I thought back to the last time I’d seen her. I was still playing games at the time, and she’d found me in Fields of Fantasy, thanks to our old AI guide, the little dragon Yano, who was now her full-time companion. She’d looked so happy. So content. It made me happy, too. To know at least something good had come out of the nightmare we’d lived through. At least she had found her happily-ever-after.

Now, if I could just find my own. Or at least a new normal I could live with.

I shook my head, trying to return to the present. Pressing my ear to the door, I strained to listen to my uncle. “Has he used his credit cards? Checked into any hotels?” Uncle Jack was asking. He paused, then added, “Have there been any ransom notes?”

I froze, a shiver tingling down my spine. Ransom notes? But that would mean…

Had Hiro been kidnapped? But that was crazy!

Or was it? After all, his company owned a lot of technology that other companies would kill to obtain—literally. Something we’d found out firsthand when the company who made Camelot’s Honor sabotaged Dragon Ops and trapped us inside. They had wanted to make the park seem unsafe and delay its opening so they could catch up with their own augmented reality theme park. And they didn’t care that they almost killed us in the process.

Was Hiro’s life now in danger—as ours had once been?

I pushed away from the door, dashing down the hall. I had to find Lilli. Now.

“What’s going on?” Lilli demanded as I dragged her outside into the backyard. “Is it really so important you had to interrupt me mid-dessert dinner? I’d just found a whole Oreo in my ice cream, I’ll have you know. With the cream still in the middle and everything!”

I shot her a warning look. “Just pretend you’re teaching me soccer, okay?”

“Um, okay.” She looked around. “Though we don’t have a soccer ball, so kinda tough.”

“Football, then. Karate. Whatever. Just act casual!”

“You mean like the opposite of the way you’re acting right now?”

I glanced back at the house, half expecting weird men in black with dark sunglasses to be peering out the window, ready to take us away because we knew too much. But, of course, there was no one there. Aunt Robin was still in the kitchen. Derek was still in his bedroom. Uncle Jack was still in his office, likely still discussing the disappearance of the most important person in the video game industry. No one was concerned with us.

“How’s this? Hi-yah!”

Lilli struck what I assumed was meant to be a karate pose, though truthfully it looked more like the start of a TikTok dance. I rolled my eyes and grabbed her hand, dragging her to the back of the yard. Once there, I sat down on one of the swings from Derek’s old weather-beaten playscape. Lilli joined me, plopping into the next one over.

“So…?” she asked, turning to me. “You going to spill or what?”

“It’s about Hiro,” I said, keeping my voice low, just in case. “Hiro Takanama.”

She frowned, looking from left to right, as if afraid we’d be overheard. Talking about Hiro was just as forbidden as talking about Dragon Ops, after all. But in this case, it couldn’t be helped.

“He’s disappeared,” I whispered. “I heard Uncle Jack talking about it on the phone.”

Lilli’s eyebrows rose. Now I had her full attention. “Are you serious?”

I quickly related what I’d overheard. She listened attentively, her brow creasing more and more until I’d finished. “That’s awful,” she said. “Do you really think someone kidnapped him?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I mean, it’s possible, right? He’s kind of a big deal. Maybe they want his Dragon Ops secrets. You know, like more sabotage.”

“Do you think Ikumi knows?” Lilli asked after a pause. “That her father is missing, I mean. Do you think someone would think to tell her?”

I frowned. I hadn’t thought of that.

“Probably not,” I said. “Especially since most people assume she’s dead. After all, that’s why Hiro kept her in the game in the first place, right? He was worried that if people knew about her digital life, it could put her in danger.”

I trailed off, a horrible thought coming to me. What if that was the real reason someone had kidnapped Hiro? Not for Dragon Ops. But for his brain emulation tech—the process through which he gave his dying daughter eternal life online. How valuable would something like that be? It had to be worth billions. Maybe trillions. Basically we were talking immortality here. Priceless.

My stomach squirmed. This could be worse than we thought.

Lilli jumped off her swing. “She needs to know,” she said, clearly following my line of thought. “I mean, she could be in danger, too. Even if not, it’s her dad, after all. And maybe she can even help track him down. She has the entire internet at her disposal, right? She could hack security cameras, access facial recognition software. Data mine from his online profile. If anyone can help find him, it would be her.”

I lay down on the slide, looking up at the sky. Heavy clouds had rolled in, darkening the horizon. It looked as if it was going to storm soon. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe we should talk to Uncle Jack?”

“I was thinking more of doing it ourselves.”

“Oh.” My heart flipped. I tried to keep my expression neutral. “I don’t know…”

“Why not?” Lilli demanded. “I mean, she gave you her Fields of Fantasy contact info, right? In case you needed to get in touch with her? We could send her an in-game message. Let her know what’s going on.” She put her hands on her hips. “We can’t rely on Uncle Jack. What if he doesn’t think it’s a good idea? What if he tells us not to get involved?”

“Then… maybe we shouldn’t get involved?” I squeaked, knowing this was a losing battle. When Lilli got an idea like this, there was no talking her down. “Also, I don’t know if she still checks those messages or even logs in to the game anymore. I mean, she’s not exactly a video game superfan these days, after being trapped in one for two years.”

Even as I said the words, I knew I was just making excuses. The truth was, I was afraid of going back online. Especially into the very game where Atreus had first tracked me down. What if he was still in there, still waiting for me to log back in?

On the other hand, what if Ikumi really was in danger? What if we were the only ones who could warn her before it was too late?

And what if I was too much of a wimp to do it—and something terrible happened because of it?

“Come on, Ian,” Lilli pleaded. “It’s not like we’re going back into you-know-where. We’re just logging on to a regular video game. Sending a message. No big deal.”

I almost said no. I really did. But then my mind flashed back to the final fight in our Dragon Ops game. The moment where we had all but lost. We’d tried, we’d dared, and we’d been defeated. And we were about to become dragon dinner. Game over, forever.

Except not. Because Ikumi had grabbed my sword. Leapt in front of the dragon. Eyes blazing. Mouth set in a determined frown.

You will leave my friends alone! she’d shouted.

She’d been so brave. Now it was time for me to be brave, too. For her.

“Okay,” I said, swallowing down my fear. “Let’s go send the message.”

W