I stare at the pod, knowing full well that I won't be able to dive back in for at least twelve hours. My left hand clenches and relaxes every time I think of Victoria's fingers. Did they really move or was it an optical illusion? My other hand is holding my phone. It's early enough that I can call Mom and she'll answer. I check the lock screen.

"Five texts, three emails, a missed call, and a voicemail." That's too many things to go over while standing naked next to a FIVR pod, so I set it back down on the night stand and head to the bathroom.

The shower is hotter than I normally make it, I'm sure Gerrard's place has enough in the tank for everyone. The water hits the back of my neck as I stare at the tile wall. There are so many questions popping up in my brain like bubbles in a glass of sparkling wine. The more I think about the game and the time recently spent in it, the more I worry about Mom. Then I think about the game again, and whether or not I'm still in the lead for the milestones. The money leads to sponsors and the need for a backup plan. But I only got a single offer last week, so…

There's a pit in my chest all of these thoughts slip down where no answers or plans await. Just an endless cascade of worries flowing into a bottomless chasm.

I ball up a fist and realise that the other hand has been rolling a bar of soap this whole time. That… might be enough lather for three showers. My head begins to swim and my vision goes hazy, but I remember how hot the shower is and wonder how long I've been in here.

Comfortably dressed in my break sweats, I grab a tablet I packed just in case and head back to the living area for my phone. Ever since I stopped playing FIVR games, I haven't owned any other consoles or even a portable gaming system. There's just not enough time in the day, nor enough desire left in me to play when I got back home from my long days. I didn't even have a proper laptop anymore. All I have is a tablet I won at the bar where I used to work for selling the most desserts in a month. Honestly though, Triple Chocolate Brownie Supremes practically sell themselves.

Two of the texts were from Richter and Dawn. They had ordered a huge celebratory breakfast feast from a nearby, family-owned cafe and that I was welcome to come over as soon as I could. The difference between both messages is that Dawn thought she and I should discuss Vic ourselves first. Apparently, neither Richter nor Rachel saw what had happened to Victoria, but they did see the light show. I told them both I'd be over after an important phone call.

"Good morning, Mom. Everything okay?" I speak the words as I sign, a habit formed from learning with her and the nurses. I tried to break it once, but Mom told me she would miss the sound of my voice. She was mute, not deaf. Her face on the tablet is much clearer and easier to see than on my phone. I can even make out her breakfast tray sitting on her adjustable, rolling table. I tell her to eat everything and not just the toast. Her face lights up with her smile.

"I'm good. I watched your show all week. You are amazing. Which one is your girlfriend?" She waggles her eyebrows with the last question and I blush hard. She laughs in short breathes. Thank God they didn't show any of the steamier parts otherwise my face would be permanently red.

"Don't be like that. Did the money go to the right place? Did you need anything?"

"Stop. I told you not to worry about me and money. Your Uncle Moss is working on the case. We'll have the bills covered after. You look good in the game, your new haircut is on fire."

I shake my head at that, but I can't suppress my smile. Hands working in the background make a sudden appearence and I ask who it is. Jenn number two, as she so casually goes by, is the morning nurse for today. Jenn number one is twice her age at fifty and has been working at the hospital for near fifteen years already. Jenn two learned a bit of ASL from me, mostly the bad words and phrases, and Mom never fails to try to set us up. She means well and is sweet about it, but both Jenn two and I know that I'm not the right gender for her. Still, it doesn't stop her from playing along in as professional way as she can.

After Jenn two's cameo, Mom wishes me luck, "Keep having fun. Okay? You look happy, like when you used to play more. I'm sorry things turned out like this."

"You know it's not your fault. I never blamed you or Dad for any of this. I love you, Mom."

"I love you, spider monkey."

At some point before we ended our call, she made a joke about me giving her virtual grandkids and it reminded me where my odd sense of humor must have come from. I wonder how she would do in Arc? What kind of class would she choose? Would she be a signing spellcaster, too? Maybe a strong, silent fighter? Or maybe she would use her voice again?

One text and two emails came from my interested sponsor, but I saved those for Dawn's place where we could all discuss pros and cons and such. The phone call and voicemail came from an old manager. She started work on opening up her own bar and grill and that it should be ready before the end of the beta run.

Miss Karen and I once handled an entire Super Bowl party of one hundred and fifty people with just the two of us, two bussers, and the kitchen staff. Apparently, everyone else had food poisoning or some other bullshit, most likely still hungover from everyone hanging out the night before. Since I didn't drink and she was pregnant at the time, neither of us went out with them after work even though they all promised to come in the next day.

Miss Karen wasn't even supposed to work that day, but, like the beast she is, she came in ready to rock. After tipping out the line and the bussers almost ten times what I would on a normal basis, Miss Karen and I walked out with over a grand in tips each. Normally, managers don't make tips, so I gave her the money later as a "lost bet." When she asked what the bet was, I told her it was whether or not she'd ever let the staff do her dirty like this again. I said she would and she snatched the bills with a grin.

After that, I was her go-to guy for getting stuff done. She always made sure I got hours when I needed them, days off when I asked for them, and meals from the kitchen to take home. I was her favorite, her work son, but I worked for and with everyone just as hard so no one ever really complained.

With my plate spinning in the microwave, I lean back against the kitchen counter with my tablet in hand. Dawn is on the couch with her laptop, not really watching the TV as it flickers. Richter, too, is at the dining table staring at his laptop through reading glasses. They may be busy going over emails, but they don't let it dampen the mood.

"Dudes! What a week! We have got to be higher ranked after everything we did." It's jarring to hear Richter's voice coming out of this guy and I have to remind myself that this is the real Richter.

"I don't think they'll have the end of the Kil run included just yet," I say while taking a peek at the time left, "We barely scraped by on that one as it is."

"Looks like they added a few different kinds of Top Ten moments. Duels, deaths, funny, sexy. At least one person from the four of us players is featured in each catagory they've shown so far. Ardy, did you use a Beacon of Alacrity to--"

I use the beeping of the microwave as a perfect excuse to cut her off, "Food's ready! Um… yeah, well, I had to keep casting it so it took a lot of… concentration."

"Dude. You're a genius," Richter says with a laugh, "Hey! It's Rachel with a video call!" Dawn and I stand behind him as he pushes the laptop away to get the three of us to fit in the screen.

He pushes a button and a young woman pops into view. Voluminous black hair rolled up in a sort of bun sits on her head while Betty Page bangs peek out of a folded up, red and white plaid bandana. A red carnation hair pin glamorously accents her bun. She bats long, thick eyelashes as her wine red lips spread into a jubilant smile.

"Like, is it really you guys? Y'all look so, like, different! Except for Ardy. Well, before he set his head on fire." Easy for her to say. We share her smile and her sentiments, not expecting the Rockabilly style on someone with an obvious, valley girl kind of accent. Although, neither pin-up model nor half avian visage seems to match our expectations every time she speaks in or out of the game.

"That last raid was sooo epic," she squeals as she pumps her fist in the air, "Oh em gee, I wonder what kind of loot we'll get? And the XP. It's gotta be, like, a ton for a level forty, Tier Four boss!"

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

We let her carry on for a bit to get it out of her system, but her blazing, positive energy is unquenchable. She does eighty percent of the talking during our call and the only reason the call ends comes in the form of an exasperated nurse needing her for something.

"See you guys in game!"

We return her farewell, and her effervescent personality lingers in the air for quite some time, leaving us a little chipper and upbeat. Earlier, according to Richter, Dawn and I seemed a little out of it and he wasn't sure how to proceed with either of us. We sheepishly apologize to him, blaming a made up state of exhaustion for all the mental gymnastics we've been through. Although, it is true that this week felt like a year's worth of work. As Rachel had mentioned, we all wonder if the work was worth it and if everyone in game is alright.

Dawn sneaks a look at me while Richter goes to the kitchen. I motion to communicate through text and we both set our phones to silent. While she texts, she moves back over to a corner of the couch. The TV announces that after the commercial break they'll be revealing this week's standings, so I claim the opposite corner on the U-shaped sectional. Richter sits in the middle with his plate of waffles, egg whites, and turkey bacon. I tease him about the latter two items, but he smiles smugly at me.

"When you get to my age, bro, the real wraiths are found in what you eat." How he can eat a waffle without butter or syrup is a question left unanswered, let alone how he can do it with a content look on his face.

While I was spacing out in the shower and conversing with Mom, Dawn and Richter had gone over their sponsor prospects and are now giving me advice. Well, they would if they can figure out who Electrum Edge is and why they would be interested in me. Ric joked that they were a front to an organized crime syndicate, since I've been getting rather creative with my executions and they must have liked my style. Dawn couldn't find any substantial information on the internet about them.

"It just says they're 'fabricators of industrial necessities and precognitors of divertissement in the overall, global entertainment marketplace.' I mean, what does that even mean?" Dawn asks, alternating her attention between her laptop, phone, and the TV.

"It means they're a front for something else, like an underground, no rules, FIVR death match gambling ring," Richter says a little too enthusiastically. I just shake my head, responding to Dawn's subtle text that asked what had happened to Vic as Richter lets his imagination go wild with conspiracies.

Ardacen: [She died, Ren killed her… Did you see the light? Was that you?]

Dawn: [No, but I saw it too. What did it mean? Did it have to do with the halo? Did she have a revival item or something?]

Ardacen: [Not the halo, it doesn't do that. I'm not really sure. Do you remember when we hunted Mandrakes outside of Linqs Dungeon?]

Dawn: [I think that was you, Vic, and El. I was with Kona and Serenity. Why?]

Ardacen: [I can tell you the story later, but I think Vic might be alive.]

Dawn: [You sure? Why don't we ask Ric?]

I look up from my phone to see Richter sitting cross-legged on the couch with his laptop in his lap, "Hey, Ric? Did you happen to see Vic fighting a big, tiger Faunus near the end of the boss raid?"

"Yeah, why? She okay?"

"I'm… not sure. I think so, but it's complicated. It has something to do with her race, which doesn't have a good reputation in Arc. You see, she lost her fight with Ren, but if she somehow came back it's because of a racial Feat that only Valkyries have. For some reason though, they're quite hated by a lot of the other races.

"Dawn and I seem to be the only ones to have seen her die and we don't want the others knowing her race until we're sure they won't just turn on her."

He nods his head at the last statement, "Makes sense. Even after everything we've done, if it looked like we were hiding a secret like this it would look bad for all of us. Want me to send Rachel a message just in case?"

Dawn closes her laptop and chimes in, "We'll talk to her in game. Look, it's the leader boards."

A sigh of relief involuntarily escapes my lips when I see my name still blue and spinning in the first place spot. The sigh is immediately followed by a gasp of suprise. Below me at four, fifteen and eighteen are Dawn, Richter, and Rachel respectively. The latter two aren't racing like me and people like Dom, the Goblin Ninja, so it's suprising to see their names high up on this list. Dawn's entry is a cocktail of feelings. She may or may not be racing, I can't know for sure, but I can trust that she wouldn't do anything underhanded to overtake me. On that same coin, I know she wouldn't ease off the gas just to let me win. As competitive gamers, that would be a great disrespect to the game itself and to each other. If one of us wins, it'll be because they completely deserved it. Plus, I know she has to think of her sponsors as well.

On the Highest Viewer Rating board, her name is now number two, moving up from number three last week. Richter also jumped from twelve to nine. What suprises all of us is my incredible leap from fifty eight to twenty three, one above Brandy who didn't move from her spot at all. A segment showing clips of dramatic scenes highlights Kona and my moment in the vardo. Dawn and Ric both make cute, emotional noises as I turn crimson in embarrassement. When she knocks me to the floor I can see Vic whincing in the background. My mood drops like a ten ton turd.

"It'll be alright, bro. Say, how's Mom doing?" Ric pats me on the shoulder as he gets up.

"She's good. Happy. She said she watches the show, a lot of the nurses do, too, apparently."

"Whoa, nurses? Awesome. Should we send her some autographed headshots?" Ric jokes from the kitchen, but Dawn responds with a playful booing and a big thumbs down. "What? I'm just trying to please the fans?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dawn says as she checks her phone, "Maybe one of them will go out with you next week for a quick date. Make sure you dye your hair and slip on your ears first."

"Oh yeah," he says as he runs his hand through his short hair, "Sometimes I forget how I look IRL."

"And you're the most normal looking one of us in the game now," I add. It gets a healthy laugh as we continue to enjoy our break together. Between nibbling on crispy bacon and french toast sticks, heckling and commenting on clips from the show and its many spin offs, and laughing until our cheeks and sides hurt, I forgot about everything else for a moment. Right now, I'm at a friend's place and I'm having a great time.

A scene went by with another player in a familiar town that I recognize as the outer circle of Higo where the working class citizens lived. With hunched shoulders, hood over their head, and shifty glances all around, the player slips into a brothel I passed by on my walk back from the desert. The scene reminds me of Lady Anne and her crazy, little boat.

"I forgot all about the book Miss Delvina gave me." I slap the heel of my palm against my forehead. "It's supposed to have all kinds of information about Valkyries. We gotta check it out as soon as we get back. We were just so busy with everything else it totally slipped my mind."

"Alrighty, Ardy," Dawn says after a stretch and a yawn, "If Vic's still alive, we'll make the two of you going over that book a priority, okay? But, like Rachel said, we'll have our hands full as soon as we get back. I gave general orders to some heads of different crafting departments as well as an estimate as to where I wanted to survey for our new settlement."

"Aye aye, captain." I follow this with a weak salute from my forehead.

"I'm sorry," Dawn says as she gets up to sit closer to me, "I know Victoria really meant something to you. That light before we left was unusual… We'll definitely verify its purpose when we get back."

Her arms wrapping around me is unexpected as is the light headbutt. It was one thing in the game, but this one is different. I don't know about butterflies, but the bacon in my belly is doing backflips.

"Ooo, I'm telling Vic when we get back…" Richter teases and we launch a volley of throw pillows at him.

This week, Richter and I leave a couple hours early so Dawn could make some phone calls in private. Clean up is a snap since we didn't over order like last time, we managed to eat almost everything, and we used mainly recycled plates and utensils. Dawn gave Richter a hug and, when she knew he wasn't looking, I got a peck on the cheek before we both got the boot.

I put out a fist for Richter to bump, but he pulls me in for a hug instead, "It's been a tough week, bro. Just remember we got your back, okay?" Stunned by the suddenness of his display, I awkwardly return the gesture with a weak hug and a pat on the back.

Alone in my room, I realize the two have been trying to make me feel better about a lot of things that have gone on. The effects of the candle, the blackout and possibility of more in the future, the death of my in game psychiatrist and friend, and the recent possibility that Victoria might be dead have been weighing on my mind. My friends could easily see them affecting me on my regular, normal-people face and, instead of just leaving me to deal with everything on my own, they have been trying to find ways to support me. Right away, my first instinct is to feel bad for making them worry.

It takes me back to my first day working the bar as a barback. It was a busy weekend and I had little experience with any kind of alcohol and none being on that side of the bar. I was supposed to be spending my training time shadowing another barback, but with how busy it had gotten he had to help the bartenders pour, or serve drinks. Servers, bartenders, and customers were all shouting at me to help them with a million different things all at once. Get me this, fix that, mix this, we're out of that.

I want

I want

I want

I want

I want

I wanted to hurl myself out of the window. I was so inept, regardless of the fact that I was brand new. I was a deer in not just one car's headlights. I was stuck, frozen, in a four-way stop of headlights. I was useless.

I wish I could say that I just plucked up my courage, forged my resolve, and dug in my heels. Instead, I left the bar, locked myself in the liquor storage area, and forced myself not to cry. I did go back to work, trying to do every request in the order that they came in. That didn't work either, it just annoyed everyone since nothing was being completed, just put on hold for the next thing.

Eventually, I got the hang of it. The only way I can describe it is being able to find the rythmn of every single coworker and the bar itself, almost like the muscle memory required to memorize different dance routines, and dancing everyone's dances all at once. However, I never forgot what the first day taught me and reminded me how much I hated the feeling of not having the right tools, skill, or knowledge to perform in a tough situation. Just like in the games I played, there was one way to solve being a noob. I had to grind.

I was oddly hoping to run into my roommate, but they were already in the pod, probably waiting until it was time to dive again. So, I plop myself down on the couch and tune the TV to the show. It makes me smile whenever a clip highlights our group, even though I catch glimpses of Victoria. There's a middle ground where Despair and Hope are locked in even combat, neither having a distinct advantage. I look back at the pod. Who will I arm? Who will I let win?