Nocti becomes a 20th century warlord

The lights to Thanks a Latte were off.

Were this any other building, that fact would hardly be a cause for concern. It was still six in the morning after all, and most stores weren’t even beginning to open up at this time. Most, except for Thanks A Latte.

Billy stared through the windows. His boss wasn’t there. Normally she’d already be up, getting all the equipment set up for the day. Maybe she went a bit too hard at her second job? He scoffed at the thought. Helene might have had what would, in anybody else, be a near-lethal case of constant sleep deprivation, but she was never tired enough to miss opening without even sending him a message.

A notification rang out from his phone. He looked down at it and groaned. Just a bunch of spam emails, nothing from her. His fingers navigated the home page, punching in her number, and he waited for her to pick up.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, a voice could be heard. “Hey, Helene here.”

“Boss, are you—”

“—I’m not here right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.” She yawned. “Or I’ll forget. Fifty-fifty.”

The recording ended, and Billy sighed. He dialed another number — the detective, Helene’s friend and their main regular. She, at least, picked up quickly. “Yo, Makoto,” he said. “Helene spend the night at your place or something?”

Makoto sounded a bit groggy. Must have just woken up. “Ugh… what, kid? No, she didn’t… just ‘cause we hang out all the time doesn’t mean we’re into each other like that.”

“That’s not… I didn’t need that mental image.” He groaned. “She’s not at the store. Was wondering if you’ve seen her.”

“Not since yesterday.” Her voice sharpened. “You sure she’s not just passed out upstairs or something? That lack of sleep’s gotta catch up with her eventually…”

“Don’t have the key, can’t check.” He glanced up the street, seeing a teenager meander towards the store with bags under his eyes. “Koji’s here though, might be able to… well…”

“Technically counts as breaking and entering, but…” There was some rustling of fabric on the other end of the line. “I’m not on duty right now. Go for it. Call me again if you don’t find her.” The detective hung up.

“Right.” Billy turned to Koji, the dark-haired teen raising an eyebrow as he came up to the entrance.

“You guys not open yet?” Koji yawned, peering into the window. “Got a test today, need my fix.”

“Koh. We should be,” Billy said. “Boss is nowhere to be found though, and I can’t get in. Was hoping you could help with that.”

“…Fine. Maybe I’ll snag a can and leave the cash behind while I’m at it.” He looked up and down the street, leaning in towards the door. “Keep an eye out for me.”

With that, his fingers began to lengthen and contort, reshaping themselves into a set of lockpicking tools made of bone. It was only mildly disturbing. Koji jammed his index finger into the lock, sliding it around while the middle finger picked around above it. It was only a few seconds before a click could be heard and the door swung open.

They both stared at it, before Koji broke the silence. “She needs to get better locks.”

“Koh. Don’t think she cares.” Billy made for the staircase leading up to his boss’s home, leaving the other teen behind him. “Grab a drink on the house, I’ll cover ya.”

“Thanks, brother.”

The door to the upstairs was unlocked, which made sense because it was already in a locked building. Billy poked his head in and looked around. “Boss? You there?” He called out.

Silence.

“I’m comin’ in, alright?” There was no response. He pushed open the door and strode in. Her shoes were left by the wall. Her hoodie was slung up on a coat rack. Her computer was off. Her bed was empty.

Where was she?

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Helene came to consciousness quite suddenly. “My head… wait, what the fuck?” She sharpened up even more so. Last night, she distinctly remembered rolling into bed for her daily four hours of sleep — she didn’t care what the doc said, she was doing just fine — in her home. This was most definitely not her home. It was the middle of a desert. To be more precise, it was several miles above a desert, sprawled across a wooden table that was hovering in the air… somehow.

Either she had just awakened from the most unfortunate case of sleepwalking in existence, or she had been kidnapped. Probably the second. But who the hell would want to kidnap her? There was that Ghoulie Grabber fellow, but… he died during reentry into the atmosphere (and what an event that was).

Her eyes scanned the surroundings again. Her eyes did not deceive, she was indeed where she thought she was, laid down on a table suspended in midair by what she could only assume was magic. No chairs or anything. Just a very large rectangular table with eight pull-out sections, each one filled to capacity by a large variety of books and pamphlets. An omnidirectional light illuminated everything perfectly, but she felt no heat from the desert sun. She looked down at the surface she was laying on, and saw that it was… a map of North Africa?

She suddenly had a sinking suspicion. “Please, no…” Helene crawled over to one of the pull-out sections, grabbing a booklet and flipping through it. “Fuuuuck…”

One of the pages, annotated with her own handwriting (‘BULLSHIT,’ she wrote), Four simple words were written. The Italian Pasta Rule.

“It’s Tabletop Sim.”

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“She’s not here, Makoto.”

“Damn. I’m on my way. Give anyone else she knows a call. I’ve seen her with that clown hero recently, who knows why…”

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It wasn’t just that she was stuck in Tabletop Simulator. She was stuck in Campaign for North Africa. If this was one of those scenarios where she was trapped until the game finished, she’d be here until she died of old age. She and her college friends started this when they graduated, and they weren’t even a quarter of the way through yet — though they couldn’t play that often, on account of their busy schedules.

Luckily for her, the next session was… tomorrow. She looked around at the vast nothingness around the table, and the opposite problem which filled the table itself. This was going to be the longest day she’d ever had.

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“I filed a report for her,” Makoto said. “You know anywhere else she might hang out?”

“Koh. You’ve known her longer’n me. She lives in the café full-time.”

Popsy frowned. “You think she’s just passed out on a roof somewhere? She always looks tired.”

“I think a hero would spot her if she was laid out like that.”

“Only the flying ones would. Not many of those around here. Oh!” Popsy perked up. “Maybe Seiryu knows where she is! It feels like women kind of… gravitate towards him, and they know each other. Maybe they’re hanging out?”

Billy and Makoto looked at each other. “She even into guys?” he asked.

“She’s into coffee.” The detective sighed. “Still, worth a shot, maybe he can fly overhead and look for her.”

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Helene fiddled with the glowing Rubik’s Cube in her right hand. It wasn’t as mentally stimulating as she thought it would be, given that every square was the same uniform glowing blue. Her left hand scribbled down schematics on the back of one of the instruction booklets with a luminous pencil. If she was stuck in here, might as well spend the time to improve herself.

“Finally!” She waved a hand in the air. “Oi! Carl! You see me?”

Nothing happened for a few seconds. The green hand representing his cursor moved over her, ruffling her hair.

“I’m uh… stuck. In here.” She chuckled. “Been here for a day, getting kinda hungry to be honest…”

“…yes? Is that really the first thing you want to ask me?” Helene frowned. “Because I can tell you all sorts of stuff, like when you went to that party in senior year and—”

“Dunno. Woke up like this,” she said. “Hey, you’ve got access to the menu. Could you like… spawn in a chair? Or a bed? I’ve been sitting on this table and it’s killer on the back.”

Some time passed. Then, with a ‘pop’ sound, a bed spawned in the clutches of the green hand. It was a depressingly plain thing. Four sticks holding a bare mattress, with what appeared to be a foam slab for a pillow. It tumbled in place for a few seconds before an invisible force locked it into place. Helene looked into the sky. “Dude, did I kick your dog or something?”

A pile of poker chips appeared on the bed, Carl’s hand grabbing a chip as it began to grow in size until it was as wide as an average room. He suspended it in place beneath the bed, then set up a pair of smaller ones floating above it.

Helene stepped down from the table onto the giant poker chip floor, giving it a test jump. It held. Carl spawned in a bowl of ramen on the levitating chip meant to serve as her table. “Thanks, man.” She raised a thumbs up into the air.

“…I think we have to finish the game.”

“I am aware, yes. We should tell my friends where I am, they’re probably getting worried.” She muttered, resting her chin on a fist. “Did you ever end up finishing that Japanese course?”

“Lazy bastard… fine, I’ll give you Billy’s number.”

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“Hold on, gettin’ a call.” Billy glanced at his phone. The group was sat in Ms. Toyama’s sushi restaurant, the elderly woman granting them free reign to gather there while Helene was missing. “Unknown number.”

“Could be her,” Seiryu said. “Calling from a phone booth? Maybe she’s stranded somewhere. I can go pick her up.”

“Maybe.” He put the phone to this ear. “Yo. Who’s callin’?”

A man he had never heard before responded. In English. “Is this Billy Dustice?”

“The hell?” He muttered. “Why d’you wanna know?”

“Don’t suppose you’ve noticed Helene going missing recently? She’s uh… a bit stuck.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Touch her and die.” The others saw his aggression, their expressions shifting to one of worry.

“What? No, I didn’t kidnap her. Why the hell is that your first assumption? Look just… just boot up her computer if you wanna find her, alright?”

He moved away from the receiver. “Some American guy called. Said if we want to see Helene we should boot up her computer.”

Popsy shuddered. “Oh no. A kidnapping?”

“I thought so, but he said he didn’t.”

“We may as well.” Makoto rose from her seat. “Better than sitting around here doing nothing.”

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Helene snickered. “You couldn’t catch the flu, let alone me.”

She waved. “Eric, Fria. Took you guys long enough.”

“It won’t end until the turn limit anyway. No point.” Helene flopped over onto her bed. It was every bit as uncomfortable as it looked. “Out of all the games I could have ended up in…”

“It’s… uh… 5cinti11ans. Five, C, I, N, T, I, eleven, A, N, S.”

She chuckled. “I don’t use the same password for all my accounts. What kind of idiot does that?”

“Billy? That you?” She waved in the air. “If you’re talking I can’t hear you, you’ll have to type it in chat.”

“Oh, Makoto.” Helene shrugged. “Magic? Delayed quirk from a villain? That’d be one hell of a quirk actually, where could I get that? It sounds fun.”

“I don’t know, but based on how these stories usually go, I’d assume Carl and I have to win. So if we no-life the game, it’ll be over in… a month?”

“Glad you asked, kid.” Helene began to pace around her poker chip open-air room — truly an innovative design, millionaires would line up at the door for this experience — flipping through the pamphlet in her hands. “If you open the third drawer on your right, you should find my notes for this game.”

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Popsy pulled the aforementioned drawer open, leaning forward to look inside. “There’s five binders in here. Which one is it?”

“I’ll ask.” Billy typed on the keyboard. “Uh… she says all of ‘em.”

Seiryu pulled one out at random, flipping it open. “Looks like each page is a list of… troops? Second Libyan Division, six infantry battalions, three headquarters, three 108/28 guns… it keeps going.” He continued flipping through the pages. “Third Algerian Division, five trucks with water, four with ammunition…”

“This is what she does for fun?” Popsy lay down on the floor. “Suddenly, a lot of things are starting to make sense.”

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“I don’t suppose any of you have an excessive amount of free time?” Helene said. “I’d really like to get out of here.”

“I’m glad you asked.” She grinned. “Eric, Fria, if you would please deafen? I’d like to discuss some strategy with my employee.”

“Thank you. Now, the tedious bit is out of the way, I’ve already written down all our troop info. What’s left is planning our next turn. I’ve been trying to make a move on Bardia for a while—”

“—so we’ll be wanting to shift our divisions towards it, I’ve already softened them up last turn. Is it hot in the region?”

“We’ll be losing more water supplies to evaporation then. Not ideal, but I can work with this. Now, water is important for us because our troops in the area are mostly Italian—"

“Yeah, we drew the short straw like five years ago. Anyway, because our troops are Italian, they’ll want more water for their pasta rations. Now if you look at the page I labeled ‘fuck Richard Berg’…”

This was going to take a while.