Doug had remade his apartment into an MC Escher construct for no good reason I could see. Also, he’d somehow taken his twelve foot ceilinged, large studio apartment space and amplified it into a cube about a hundred feet in every direction. It was all stairwells, doorways to nowhere, and awkward lizard crocodile things that appeared to be drawn.

I avoided these.

The Grand and Mighty Doug was over on one wall, floating again, still naked, and this time smeared in green goo. When I walked up the staircase and headed through the door, I was on the ceiling.

I snorted, shook my head, and made my way to the next doorway. This one was on the opposite wall as Doug, so I hoped it would bring me directly to him, but no. Instead I found myself back where I’d started. Worse, I was pretty sure I’d just spotted my own doppelganger turning a corner to leave out of one of those passages to another one of them. Another time I was pretty sure I was trapped in a mirror thing, because I looked down (or up, whatever) and spotted me staring at myself.

All this is to say, ten minutes after I’d entered, I found myself standing next to Doug. And I was beginning to get a headache just from the weirdness.

“Poombah,” he said.

“First off, you said something about miracles. Pretty sure you said you’d deliver miracles. What happened?”

He grinned languidly. You did notice how those Brass Crosses had atrocious aim, correct?”

I hadn’t noticed, but now that I thought about it, they’d expended possibly millions of rounds trying to kill my people. “Oh… kay,” I replied. “What’s that mean exactly?”

“I found a spell called Storm the Troops. Wide affect aura good for three minutes of decreased luck, skill, and perception.”

“Ah.”

“You’re in awe of my majesty.” He never took his eyes off whatever meditative trance middle distance point he’d chosen. “Doug works in mysterious ways.”

“I understand a lot about what’s going on,” I said. Him defying gravity was not one of those things, but nanobots were apparently on par with actual magic, and the sooner I just accepted that fact, the sooner I could get on with my plan to confront the The Godfather and hopefully talk my way through beating this thing. “One of those things I understand is that no one, and I mean absolutely no one, can see you jerking me around like this.”

“May I interest you in some Cosmic Entropy LSD? The manufacturer assures me it will take you to realms unheard of. Realms where men fight monsters, where the land is capitalized, worlds where realms float the sky, and where the inns wander the multiverse. There are nine such realms, Poombah.”

“I’m calling this strike two,” I told him.

“Don’t be such a Carl, Jake.”

“I don’t know what that means and don’t want you to explain.”

“You got to loosen up, daddy-o,” Doug said. The greenish substance on his skin was looking at me, I could feel it. Whether Doug had turned his head or not, that goop was at least sentient enough to notice me.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I’m a gang boss on the rise, Doug, and this is your last chance to understand my words, because after this, I have to make a public spectacle of you. This private fun you have is all good, but you can’t do this in front of the others. Not Eric Joel, not the griefers, nobody.”

He pouted a bit, then nodded a fraction of an inch.

“Cool beans. Now, I’ll give you five minutes of shopping time if you can help me out. I need to complete a crap ton of quests in very little time. You got something that can help?”

He finally turned to face me, with this godawful ketchup-stained grin. “You aren’t gonna like it,” he said.

I didn’t ask, but instead ordered him to do it. He nodded, told me he’d get some things together, but to expect a headache shortly. He shrugged into a robe somehow, and a brief bit of vertigo later, we were standing before a wardrobe that was definitely larger on the inside than it appeared, because it unfolded like the toolbox my pops used to have.

“Now go on, I’ll get moving. Expect a headache to begin shortly.”

“Shortly?” I asked, rubbing my temples.

“No time like the present, Poombah. Get moving, and I’ll let you know when it’s started.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Ten minutes, a quick visit to Nolan and a call to the griefers later, we were good to go.

The headache intensified briefly, and I got the intense impression I was still in Doug’s room. God, had he really drugged me? Was I really still there?

“Poombah?” Dragon asked.

“Where’s Patches?” I asked.

“I’m here!” the mecha suit said happily.

There was my good boy, wreathed in holographic light mimicking his movements, panting happily with tail wagging with fury.

“You ready to go, boy?” I asked.

“I was born ready! A ready puppy!”

We all stared at him.

“The program is still learning my responses,” the mecha suit said, as if it understood exactly the amount of awkwardness hanging in the air. “Please let me know if I make any inappropriate utterances.”

“That one was pretty weird.” I turned to the rest of them. Sug was also suited up, chewing on a stogie and grinning down at me. They’d all upgraded their weapons and armor. Dragon had a pair of gauntlets wrapped around his hands, and a big gun strapped on his back, while Ice was cradling his sniper rifle with the sort of tenderness you’d expect from a fella fresh off his honeymoon. Phil had that cool expando-shield on his back, and a gun that either shot grenades, or freaking cannonballs.

“You dicks ready?”

“Hoorah!” they shouted.

I briefed them on the way, throwing various intelligence reports and map screenshots of Heso Market. It was now contested territory, and Hina was in the middle of it. I also gave Eric a heads up about our status, to keep security tight and rotating out to give people a rest as often as possible.

We made our way at a good clip, without seeing anyone out on the streets. The whole city must’ve gotten the idea that a turf war was on, because I didn’t even notice any of those hovercars flying across the skyways. No bands of turtle monks or gossiping fox people, no lone samurais with gigantic swords this time. Instead it was us and a few tendrils of mist peeling away from the corners of the alleys and empty shops.

“So, boss… about this Hina girl,” Ice said cryptically. Snickers from Phil and Sug made it clear.

“She’s an arms dealer. There’s nothing going on.”

“Sure, boss, sure.”

Now Sug snorted harder.

“Hey, Peanut Gallery,” I called back. “Keep your eyes open and the trap shut.”

“But she’s on your list of potential uglies to bump, unless I’ve mistaken my read on the situation,” Ice said with as much diplomacy as I guessed he was capable.

“You very much have.” Hina wanted me dead. She was also an NPC. The situation was super complicated. I’d shot her grandpa and one of these idiots had pissed on her house. It was never going to be anything other than cool, polite, and professional. Obviously I wouldn’t mind getting to know… what? Getting to know how much an insane AI could simulate a real female mind.

“I love you!” Patches suddenly blurted out of the mecha suit speakers. It came out in the goofiest tone imaginable.

The griefers cracked up, with Dragon eventually clutching his sides and wiping his face.

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

“No, buddy,” I said. “Your timing is off, but you did just fine. Cut it with the random exclamations though, we’re coming up on Heso Market.”