The quick nap lasted a little longer than expected. But it still wasn’t the wonderful and warm fuzzy rest that I’d been hoping for. In the games they like to tell you that you are well-rested after you hit the hay. That all of your worries are behind you, that your body is fresh and new.

Nah. Felt tired. Groggy. And wet — Patches and slapped his tongue all over my face, managing to hit all of the nooks and crannies, leaving me a swampy mess.

I rolled sideways and grabbed him in a big old hug. “Who’s a good boy?” I said, glad that his armor was off and he was talking back. It felt a bit like how things had been. He and I, our nation of one against the fucking world.

Maybe we’d go back there again at some point. I laid back, finally giving myself a chance to just take it all in. “You know, Patches. The old world kinda sucked. This one kinda doesn’t suck as much in a lot of ways. I mean, I belong here. I kick ass here. Maybe all of this is just some sort of cyber-darwinism, weeding out the idiots, making us great again.”

Patches stared at me, his eyes wide, wet, and accusatory.

“Yeah, I know. Be the hero. Save people, hunt things. I saw the show. It’s just that, damn, I know what I’m doing here. Seems like when people . . . things try to kill me, my brain just whirs. Like I’m just on fire. When bullets fly and people die, I know what I’m doing.”

I met eyes with my pooch, then turned away. I could feel the accusation. I was a dick. I knew I was a dick, especially there and then. Made me hurt inside.

“Yeah, I know. What a dickish thing to think. Can’t help it. I was fighting for freedom overseas, helping a lot of people, and then what happened? They all got killed or enslaved. We didn’t win. They didn’t win. I sure as hell didn’t win. Got back and became a damn five dollars past minimum wage guard.”

Patches stared into me, then nuzzled a cold wet nose into my neck.

“Yeah, yeah. Kill me with kindness,” I laughed. “No worries. I know what I gotta do. There’s a plan in place, with Nolan. I’m gonna go wreck the baddies. Then I’m gonna wreck more baddies. And when I beat the The Godfather and break my way out of here, I’m going to make sure every single human here gets what I didn’t give those last ones. Real freedom. A real place to hold onto.”

I swung out of bed, swinging doggo up with me into the crook of one arm. I strode to the refrigerator and practically tore the door off the frame. “Give Patches the best wet dog food you’ve got,” I said.

“PERFECT!” Calamari screamed, dancing in a circle on four legs while waving the others to and fro. “Iranian Beluga Fish Caviar and Beef Chunks coming right up!”

I flashed my wrist, not thinking through any of the words that Calamari had just said, it all came crashing into a strange and panicked epiphany.

Luckily, just moments later, error messages buzzed in my head.

This food item costs 36,000 credits. Loan services are available. Would you like to take a loan?

I balked. Mouth wide open, eyes looking crazy, pulling back my arm to cradle it protectively against my chest in what probably looked like the most kawaii gesture of all time.

“Beef and gravy, just beef and gravy for Pete’s sake. Patches and I aren’t ever going to eat something that cuts into our military budget.”

Calamari nodded, slinging out a can of the stuff and taking just 15 credits for the whole transaction. A sense of relief came over me as it beeped.

“I know all of your FAVORITE STUFF!” Calamari danced and blared. “You would like eggs and bacon. Also coffee, black, no cream because YOU AIN’T NO NANCY.” The last bit he said in a perfect replication of my voice. Yeah, sure, the other day I’d said that in that way. Didn’t mean he had to repeat it back to me. I’d have to watch what I said to the guy.

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“Bacon. Toast. And a ham and cheese omelette,” I replied. I actually wouldn’t have minded just eggs on the order, but I felt like having a dancing squid decide my breakfast for me was about as beta as one could get.

“HERE YOU GO,” Calamari screamed in glee, flinging my platter of food into a scythe-sounding sigh across my table. It came to rest exactly at the perfect place before me, not too close and not too far. Then with a tip of his top hat he winked and went back into the refrigerator, closing the door behind him.

“That,” I told Patches while I munched on my food, “that was beer-worthy. Damn is he good.”

Eric Joel chose that moment to enter. Door flung open, slapping against the scifi-metallic sheen of my cyberpunk wall. One minute I was lifting a fork of good eats to my face and the next I was catching the fork from the air while watching a bite of super-solid cheddar-ham-egg combo rain down to the floor.

“Ever hear of knocking?” I asked. Eric Joel shrugged his catman shoulders and pulled open the fridge, ordering his own breakfast in a language that I didn’t understand or even want to know. It reminded me of a dial-up modem, those museum pieces that used to screech and wail anytime anyone back in the 90s wanted to get onto the internet.

I took a look around myself on that thought. How far we’d come.

“Eric Joel. It’s been a hell of a few days around here. What have you been up to?”

A large dish filled with raw, deboned tuna plonked down to the table. Small mouse heads stuck out from this lump and that.

“Been here and there, Boss. Headed a security team out, ran into some kids who went ahead and beat the fuck out of my wingmen.”

I winced. “Regular human?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No idea what you even mean. But let me tell you something, those idiots had it coming. Kept bragging about how good they’d be in a fight. It’s the whole reason I took them out with me.”

Eric smiled and leaned back in his chair, “Turned out they were liars.”

Was that a wink? Had Eric Joel just winked at me? I could see it there, floating right underneath the surface. The truth of the matter. He had orchestrated the entire thing.

“You wonderful, amazing jerk,” I laughed. “Those two gonna shape up?”

“Boss, you don’t know the half of it. Those guys begged me to drill them right and show them the ropes. Been training hard ever since. Tends to happen when you get beaten down and spit on by a gaggle of children. Their leader, a girl named Trudy, took just 50 credits to do it. And she sealed it all up by spitting on them at the end and calling them lily-livered chickens.”

By this point I was roaring with laughter. “Eric Joel, you are awesome. How did you pull it off though? You let them kick you around some?”

“Nah. We came around the corner, there were the kids, and I told them, I said hey I hired some kids to beat the piss out of you. Show me what you’ve got.”

“And then you watched.”

“Yep. Took notes too.” He peered up at the ceiling, eyes all innocent. “It was, after all, just a test of their fighting abilities and in no way a premeditated butt-kicking to punch their brains into shape.”

I snorted. “Yeah. I might have had one of those myself when I was still a PV-1. Anyway, glad to see you around and in one piece. Feels like it's been a while.”

Eric Joel paused, crunching through the brittle skull of what was hopefully a nanomade mouse.

“Been at least a couple days. Why so clingy, boss?” He laughed, pushing away his mostly empty bowl. “Actually been on a case. Some lady keeps coming around, staring at the building. Sometimes flipping it off. Mooned it once, but I’m pretty sure she was drunk. Was glad to be around, too, cause she’s got a cute hinder!”

I frowned. “Asian?”

“Yessir.”

I dug into myself, thinking of some better way to make sure that it was her.

“A different rifle every time?”

“You got it boss. Once she was in some sort of mini-mech too. I have to admit, I was a little afraid of her on that one.”

It was Hina. It had to be. That lady — what the hell had I ever done to her?

A very recent memory of me blasting her pervy grandfather came to mind. Another memory of my griefers pissing on her building flared up behind it.

I pushed them down into my feelings a bit to deal with on some crazy night when my brain wouldn’t stop shaming me.

“I’m glad to hear you’re on the case. I’m pretty sure I know who you are talking about and I’m pretty sure I want you to just keep on doing what you are doing. And those two knuckleheads, keep them in training. I want them run into easy combats, leveled, made as best as you can make them. And, Eric, get some levels for yourself.”

I watched his eyes unfocus, a dazed look rise up on his face. Duh. Right, NPC versus game stuff. Whatever. The relevant information would feed through.

After a moment, he came to in a manner that suggested the pause hadn’t even registered with the guy.

“On it boss. By the way, you got anything going on for yourself?”

“Gonna doll myself up and head to the ball. There’s a summit for all us land-bosses, and I’ve been invited to come.” I gave him a good look up and down. “Maybe put something snazzy on yourself. Would be good to have you there.”