POV : FORT BONE
Fort Bone had been raking in mana coins over the last month, thanks to teleportation taxes and revenue from tourists. But with the actions from the Red Fairy, tourism had plummeted by 50%. Still, all of Atlas’s key allies—Tractors and Freedom, the Canucks, and Belief—continued shopping in Fort Bone, attracted by his upgraded vending machines.
Fort Bone remained the most advanced settlement across the wasteland, offering upgrades that no other town could compete with. Items in their vending machines were unmatched. Yet, when it came to basic items that places like the Celestial Empire offered, people were starting to prefer those alternatives, unwilling to further Atlas's dominance on the leaderboard.
Atlas’s main income streams were diverse: the 2,000-plus coins raided from the Faith Settlement, spoils from war, money from tourism, teleportation fees, and payments from Belief for the original POWs. Despite being a part of his empire, Belief still paid its debt to Fort Bone, allowing Atlas to quietly build up taxes and debts in his subordinate towns, letting them run themselves.
Inside the Fort Bone war room, John, and Amber, reviewed the finances. The trophies of past victories greeted them: the massive Fort Bone flag featuring the shattered skull of the first skeleton they’d ever killed, the stinky Sons of Valhalla flag, and a prisoner’s uniform from Cell Block 21.
“Atlas had been mostly right, money is looking good, “ said John pointing out additional income from Mohammed’s arenas, which were generating solid tax revenue.
When the topic of Mohammed came up, Amber asked, “He’s expanding his empire for business. What’s your general opinion?”
John shrugged. “I don’t have any problem with it. If he wants to expand to other towns, I don’t see any harm in it.“
It seemed like a win-win—if Mohammed's expansion didn’t cost Fort Bone anything, and brought in more commerce, it was all the better. What they didn’t know about was Mohammed’s growing resentment toward Fort Bone. Having been shut out of leadership, Mohammed now viewed himself as a separate entity—an economic empire that would soon rival Atlas's, one that would challenge not just Fort Bone but the new towns as well.
‘‘‘
People were buzzing with excitement about life in Fort Bone. They felt safe, more secure than anywhere else in the wasteland, and the best part? Prices were dropping. The vending machines, once expensive, were starting to become more affordable thanks to the price cuts in the two new towns. Little did they know, this was all part of Mohammed's master plan to control vending machine prices in the wasteland, slowly but surely.
Meanwhile, in the heart of Fort Bone—now called Bonetown by some—two locals, Mira and Jax, leaned against the fence outside the Wasted Tavern. .
"Can you believe they’re calling it Bonetown now?" Mira said, glancing down the street. It was quieter than normal. The promise of cheaper commodities in the two new towns had definitely affected Bonetown.
Jax shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. "Hey, at least it's memorable. Bonetown has a nice ring to it. Makes people wanna stay, right?"
Jax scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, but I heard vending machines in the Celestial Empire have some killer deals. Maybe we should head there, see what we can find."
"Wouldn’t be the worst idea," Mira muttered, her eyes drifting to the dusty horizon. "I used to think Fort Bone was special, but now? It’s kinda like the spark is leaving it."
Jax burst out laughing. "Hey, it’s not that bad! We’ll make Bonetown worth visiting again, one slogan at a time."
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As they laughed, their voices echoed down the street. Despite the challenges, the spirit of Fort Bone—Bonetown—wasn’t quite dead yet.
---
POV : CELESTIAL WAGER
Over at the Celestial Wager, the casino buzzed with its usual chaos of flashing lights, spinning wheels, and alien murmurs. But today, frustration hung in the air. The betting boards were dull, showing the same uneventful footage from the wasteland, and the crowd was restless.
Wendel, a pale blue, four-eyed alien, slumped in his chair, clicking through screens with a sigh. “There’s just nothing happening,” he grumbled, his eyes scanning the wasteland feeds for any sign of excitement.
Beside him, his companion Fraz, a jelly-like being, oozed lazily onto the table. “We’ve cycled through the channels twice now.”
“Yeah,” Wendel muttered. “It’s like that lull when Nadir was setting up his attack on the Belief Settlement. At least then we had something to look forward to.”
Fraz squished around, trying to get comfortable. “Back then, we had some suspense. Now? Just more of the same.”
Wendel groaned, leaning back in his chair. “If this stays boring, I say we bounce, maybe catch some action on another planet. This casinos drying up.”
Fraz literally bounced at that thought, his jelly-like body bouncing up and down .
“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but if nothing picks up soon... I’m with you. It’s not worth sticking around.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the clink of coins and low hum of chatter filling the air. The wasteland feed kept flickering, showing the same slow, predictable march of events—hardly the kind of chaos Wendel and Fraz were hoping for.
‘‘‘
Blontik, overhearing this conversation, was super annoyed. He smacked his toad-like lips together and rubbed his hands. The grease from the mucus exuding from his skin didn't give him the usual pleasant sensation. "We've got to make changes. If the show is starting to get boring for the bettors, maybe I should start pulling my advertising.” Celestial Wager wasn't a charity, and Blontik was here to make money.
POV : ALIEN HQ
Nerdathor was chatting with his partner, Xiomarah, when the signal for an incoming call bleeped gently into his headset. He tapped it, answering the call.
“Yes, yes, I know... What, sir? No, no, no, no, no, no. Don’t worry, it's going to get more exciting, sir.”
Nerdathor frowned, hearing the frustration on the other end.
“What? The sponsors are thinking about pulling out? That's not good. It's only been a couple of days! Yes, yes, yes, we're building dramatic tension. The towns are all gearing up for this economic war among themselves... what was that?”
He winced again as the voice complained further.
“No, no, no, no, there will be more action soon, I promise! What kind? Atlas and the demon dogs should be fighting soon.”
The voice could be heard shouting.
“Yes, I know the Portal Crusher main army will destroy the nightly attack.”
Another pause, and then Nerdathor hurriedly continued, “No, no, no, no, that’s not going to be a problem. Yes, okay, sir. I'll try.”
He hung up the call with a deep sigh.
“Well, how did it go?” Xiomarah asked, his sleek, bronze-scaled form reflecting the light as he shifted in his chair. His elegant, curved horns framed his sharp, cat-like eyes, which now held a hint of concern. He hadn’t even been hiding the fact that he had been eavesdropping.
“They aren't happy,” Nerdathor admitted, rubbing his temples.
Xiomarah smirked, revealing a hint of sharp teeth. “Can you blame them? There’s nothing happening in the show. I thought extending the season and opening more portals would boost the ratings.”
“We were doing great before," Nerdathor said defensively. "The wasteland is generating stronger creatures like we planned, but still they haven’t come out in enough force yet.”
“Is there any way to step that up?” Xiomarah asked, tilting his head, his long, serpentine tail flicking with interest.
Nerdathor rubbed his chin. “We could release more mana into the atmosphere. That would definitely make the dungeon breaks more exciting. The mages in production won’t be happy though. They’ve been doing a great job in stopping the natural mana flow.”
“Oh yes, let’s do that,” Xiomarah agreed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “The skeletal horde has been spawning around Fort Bone, but if we allow more mana into the wasteland, even more mobs will spawn. The wastelanders won’t have a moment of peace with dungeon breaks happening more rapidly.”
“Exactly," Nerdathor said, his mood lifting. "How’s the big boss for the skeletal horde coming along?”
Xiomarah nodded, his scales shimmering. “He’s ready. It was a pain waiting for the skeletal boss with his mutated steed, but when he rides across the wasteland, he’s going to lay havoc everywhere.”
“Good,” Nerdathor said, determination in his voice. “Let’s make that happen.”
Xiomarah felt a little bad for Bonetown—just a little. But honestly, ever since reality shows had been invented 2,000 years ago, which shady producer hadn’t put their grubby tentacles on the scales for better ratings? The showbiz rulebook basically read: 1. Exploit drama. 2. Profit. 3. Repeat until the galaxy hates you.
‘‘‘