I always thought the Ultros Memorial Ballroom was weirdly scary when it was empty. Everything is ocean-themed, and if you know me, well… let’s just say this cute little bear is not a fan of the deep blue sea! The walls and columns have seashells and starfish designs, if you look close enough. And the chandelier is constructed to be like… whaddaya call ‘em? The wriggly arms on an octopus? When the ballroom is empty, you can almost hear the tide when you shuffle your feet along the marble floor, like when you put your ear up to a conch shell, and you can hear the blorps and splashes of the ocean bringing things back to the shore, things you thought you got rid of….

Oops! Sidetracked.

But now it wasn’t empty. It was full, packed to the brim with Bosses of “the highest echelon,” as Xue-Fang would say. And speaking of him… I was really starting to wonder where he could be. He put me in charge of the Armory while he was gone. He said, “Bianka,” (imagine my voice is deep and silky smooth like his) “you’ve been working hard to qualify for full Bosshood, and this will be a good test for you. If things are in order when I return, perhaps I will consider elevating you from your status as intern.” Xue-Fang has such a way with words. He always chooses words that are way better than the words I would choose. Like, I would never think to say perhaps, I’d just say “maybe.” Once, I even heard him say “mayhap.” I think he made that up.

When he left, I just assumed he would be back way ahead of our gala. This is a b-i-i-i-i-g deal. Sure, the scroblins and Street Toughs were already doing the hard work of manning the open bar (bad idea in an all-Boss crowd, if ya ask me) and guarding the entries and exits. But if he didn’t show up soon, I was gonna have to do some entertaining.

It can be tough for a bear like me, a simple gardening aficionada to stand her ground in a conversation with some of the most accomplished Bosses in all the digital worlds… well, all that are left, anyway. I mean, you try making small talk with THE turtle-dragon. Intimidating, much?

If you look good, you feel good, as Xue-Fang always says. Easy for him to say. He can look like anything he wants! But still. Instead of my normal puffy-shouldered blouse and frilled collar and cute skirt, I had a nice gown commissioned by the tailor, a nice man with big iron bracelets and chains who works in our dungeon and cries a lot. He was like, “Okay, but will you let me go back to my gameworld after this?” What a joker! People from old gameworlds crack me up. He should know by now that there’s nothing left of Sewing Daddy (20_6). The gown is pretty, but I still carried my silver shovel with me, because I wanted to feel like me. If that makes any sense.

Wait—tentacles! That’s the word. Whew, that was gonna bother me.

The sound that a room full of mostly-final Bosses makes reminded me of when the kids in Mr. Hootley’s class used to talk, and there was so much talking you couldn’t hear what anyone was saying! Xue-Fang calls this a “din.” The din of a Boss-filled room has a lot of bass in it, and every once in a while somebody maniacally laughs. I still think that’s less creepy than when it’s empty.

It is SO weird to have a little respect. Here at the Armory, the most importantest place in the whole Shard, I guess you could say I’m second in command. The scroblins try not to swear around me because they know I don’t like that kind of language. The Street Toughs look down at the ground when they see me coming, and even the Sorrow Troopers stand at attention. I could get used to this. And I have! Sometimes I just twirl my razor-sharp silver shovel and think, hey, it sure is nice to be a Boss! A Boss intern, at least.

I gulped and went out onto the floor of the ballroom. Little conversations floated past, domination this, obedience that, they’ll soon know my true power, yadda yadda. Nobody gave me a second glance… except Bev Baxter.

“Bear!” she shouted, pinching the stem of a champagne flute with the thumb of her boxing glove, where the remains of a pour of Dom Carrion Brutal Brut swirled. “Another round, okay there sweetie?” She handed me the glass. I shouldn’t have taken it, I should have said something Bossy like “Get it yourself, you oaf!” or “The bar’s that way, Bev Baxter, or should I call you Beverly?” Okay, I know, I need to work on my comebacks. I can’t help my impulses to be nice, and it’s not doing me ANY favors with these evil types. They’re so… experienced. I keep thinking that I’m the host and I need to make sure they have a good time, and really play up the celebration.

“Well?” she said, and wiped her nose with her glove. She made a wet sniff and glared at me. What I could do if I had shoulders like Bev Baxter’s, holy moly. Then she squatted down and rested her boxing gloves over her powerful knees. “Hey, aren’t you the murder bear?”

I think I turned as red as her boxing gloves. “I’m a big fan,” I said, and I knew it was a mistake. Xue-Fang said you’re supposed to make them feel important, but never at your own expense. But it was true! It was the Bev Baxter, star of Bev Baxter’s Beat-Down!! (19∞7) and its sequel, Super Bev Baxter’s Super Beat-Down!! (19∞8)!

I mean, she was so famous that we had promotional items in my gameworld. You could wear her famous shorts and a tank top that said “Baxter.” You could even get the boxing gloves, although you couldn’t punch anybody with them.

“Aren’t you the sweetest thing!” she exclaimed. “I heard what you did in Garden Villa: Fresh Worlds (20♫0). Super messed up!”

“Aw, stop it,” I said. My hear was thudding so loud I think you could see it.

“Where’s Xue-Fang?” she asked. “I got some questions for him about how he set up Fort Weepus. Have you seen him?”

I shrugged. I didn’t think there was any way to give her the champagne glass back without getting one an actual, real-life Bev Baxter beat-down. “I was actually going to ask if you had seen him.” She shook her head.

“No, sweetie,” she said. She talked like a Player I once knew, like her mouth always wanted to close over her vowels. I think I heard this called a “midwest accent,” although the only midwest I knew was the residential area in my Player’s garden town, Jerkburg. “But you know what? Take this.”

She covered her mouth with her huge boxing glove. There was a click hard rubber. She held her arm toward me, and her mouthguard clattered into the glass. Bev Baxter’s saliva mixed with a little tiny puddle of champagne backwash.

“Okay well, if ya see him, tell him Bev Baxter’s looking for him! Run along now, don’tcha know!” She stood and turned away. “Hey Saki! SAKI! Ya little knucklehead, stay right there. I’m coming to you.” She disappeared into the crowd of Bosses—well, not her head. Her head stayed visible above the clusters of attendees.

Oh boy. This was not how I meant to c-o-m-p-o-r-t myself, to use a Xue-Fang word. In fact, it was a little gross.

I figured I better get this champagne glass to one of the scroblins or Street Toughs to take back, but none of them were nearby. I think they might have been avoiding me.

I figured maybe Xue-Fang was already here, and just hadn’t seen me yet. I went up to the upper level to get a better view, the “mezz-a-nine” which was like a reverse balcony that looked over the ballroom. Bosses come in all shapes and sizes, but very few of them are my size, which is considered short even among Garden Townies.

It was very fancy up here. I imagined what kind of dramatic scenes you could have up here, while there was a big dance happening on the floor below. But nobody was dancing—these Bosses seemed more interested in comparing accomplishments and trying to get information out of one another—and the overhang was all just Ohmpressors, guarding the festivities. Xue-Fang wanted security to be “air-tight,” at this thing. I didn’t know what the big deal was, though. He’d set up the Armory at the far end of the safest, most secure Shard there was. The first Shard to get a foothold in the Screenwilds. Even I knew that was something!

I squeezed in between a column and one of the Ohmpressors, silently watching over the gathering below. Well, not totally silent—it clicked and beeped quietly and sometimes little puffs of steam would hiss out when it moved. It also clanked its clampy hands together. I sure wouldn’t want to be grabbed by one of those things, especially since there’s a big ol’ laser blaster thingy right in the center. I didn’t wonder what animal might be inside of this one. I had stopped wondering that kind of thing.

Maybe a bunny? Or a bear? Did they have any bears in the collection—err, I mean, the army?

From up here, I could see a bunch of the bosses from above.

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The Evil Philosomancer’s cheeks were red, but not from the champagne. He was working himself up into a villainous rant. Even I know that’s rude—you’re supposed to save those for the other team. Monologuing at fellow bosses is considered “friendly fire” and “boorish” as Xue-Fang would say. It’s just not done. “Why, even the gods themselves could not stop us now!” I heard E.P. hollering, which is how he how he usually ends those things.

Addnoir and the mime named Candy Apple stood together silently. Neither said a word. Addnoir’s a dark version of some protag, and she’s not much of a talker. Candy Apple was just throwing people looks and drawing his finger across his throat at whoever would make eye contact with him. It’s really hard to take him seriously with his big red nose, which is not to be squeezed under any circumstances, no matter how badly I want to. I’m sure his spike-covered, armored red Dodge Charger was parked outside. Honestly, I felt bad for the two of them. Without their protags, they were both a little r-e-d-u-n-d-a-n-t. I’m just saying.

“...”

I turned to see who it was. How had I not noticed him there, cattycorner from me around a couple of columns? Septigladiorbunculus leaned over the bannister of the mezzanine, elbows against the railing. Now, no matter who reads this, I am sure you remember the first time you saw Septigladiorbunculus. Long hair, long sword, long name. Not to be, y’know, but everything about him was long, if the rumors were true.

First off, he is tall, which is the same as being long, just vertical. His eyes were long almond-shaped and he had long eyelashes, at least one, since his long, gray hair fell over the other. He even had long pupils that glowed from being around orb-magic for too long. His hair was so long that it wasn’t even all the way in the room with us. it trailed out the archway behind him and snaked out onto the balcony. He held the palm of one long arm out over the ballroom, where two orbs orbited one another just above his long fingers. He looked at me with one of those half-grins on his face, and I wondered how long he had been there, staring at me. Septigladiorbunculus loved that kind of thing.

“Oh,” I chuckled, trying not to look startled. (But I was!) “Hi Septigladiorbunculus. Didn’t bring your sword?”

He didn’t ignore me like I figured he would. The slightest puff of air escaped his nostrils. “It should be here any moment,” he said, turning ever so slightly toward the balcony behind him. I walked over, careful not to step on his luxurious coils of hair. Out in the courtyard below, a convoy of trucks were pulling up in a slow line, carefully navigating the last turn before parking in single file. The hilt took up an entire truck! Then the truck behind it supported the middle, a slightly curved sheath of fine reinforced leather. The third truck at the end carried the end of the sheath, which curved up into the air a ways and had to be supported by extra bars and attachments and things. The drivers were all Sorrow Troopers, and they were being r-e-e-a-a-l-l-y careful. There was no way the sword would fit into this ballroom, but that did not make me feel any more safe.

“Have you seen Xue-Fang up here?” I worked up the courage to ask.

His one visible eyelash (long) rose up. “How would I know if I had?” said Septigladiorbunculus.

Oh yeah! Duh, Bianka! Xue-Fang could change what he looked like, just whenever! Maybe he was here already, just in disguise. But why would he be disguised at his own party? Especially when we were waiting on him to make a speech?

Septigladiorbunculus jerked his head and whipped a lock of gray hair back over his shoulder. The two balls, I mean orbs, lowered slowly into his palm. He cupped them carefully, almost like he was afraid to break them, closing his long fingers over them and putting them back in his pocket. He got a look in his eye sometimes that made you feel like… fire. Everything around him was on fire. Not really, but I still backed away and walked to a different spot on the viewing gallery.

Being from an Ultimate Requiem game (not the same one as the emperor), he was royalty, in a way. And you really didn’t want to get involved with them.

I figured I’d find a different place to stand and see who else was down there, and if any of them were acting like they were maybe, possibly Xue-Fang. Xue-Fang was really good at disguising himself, I mean like r-e-e-a-a-a-l-l-y good at it, but I’d spent so much time by his side that I bet I could spot him in a crowd, even disguised.

There was Mecha Senator, from the Agent Poison games of the late Ωs and _0s, which were definitely not political, talking to Mayor DuChamp from Rampage City (19∞9), the huge shirtless wrestler mayor. I heard Mecha Senator saying “What I did, I did for America!” and I just knew they were talking politics. Boring! I had a hunch that neither one was Xue-Fang, since they both kept looking expectantly toward the microphone that was set up by the bar.

Could it be Alaric I the Visigoth, the strategy guy who sacked Rome? Or Oleryk I the Barbarigoth, the fantasy guy clearly based on him? The two wore the same bear pelt mantle and carried the same ax at their sides, and I had a hard time telling which was which. Nah. Too easy. Too obvious.

Maybe The Celerian from Horticulture vs. Mummies (20_9)? I dunno. I couldn’t imagine the master of Platformia with broccoli hair.

What about the final guy from Eureka Mercs (19∞8), the super grody alien warlord? H. R. Gargoyle was a Boss’s Boss, that’s for sure, and he was here to play the game, if you know what I mean. I don’t like to be judgmental, but that dude looks like someone microwaved a bat inside out. He’s all dripping tubes and leathery wings, and his obsession with repeatedly invading some place called “Earth” can really dump cold water on a conversation. That day he was over there nodding intently at Villain Arc Saki from Domain Spirits: Heavenly Half Souldream (20_9), who was 90 lbs. soaking wet and couldn’t hold her champagne. Wahh, wahh, Shiori and I were soulmates. Wahh, why couldn’t they forsake the light for me, blah blah wahh wahh.

I was going to drive myself crazy trying to figure it out, so I gave up. I reminded myself that there was a reason Xue-Fang had received Platformia—he was good. Unlike a couple of turncoats in this crowd, he was designed to be a Final Boss in a fighting game, one versus one, the ultimate struggle. He was designed cheap and coded ruthless. He could draw on any ability from any of the other contenders in his original gameworld, and the rest of franchise that he appeared in. Then after the Total Conversion, he discovered his shape changing powers went even further. It was no wonder he rose to the top!

Well, not the top of the top. I remember shivering then and there at the thought that Emperor Borgus was not in attendance. The harlequin king gave me the creeps.

Not a very Bossy thing to say, I know. But it’s the truth. None of these Bosses wanted to admit it, but they were all a bunch of ladder climbers who were super scared of what was at the top of the ladder. Nobody could relax in the presence of the emperor.

I heard the sound of a wrench going, not far down the mezzanine hallway. Someone was doing maintenance on one of the Ohmpressors. I checked it out, and was surprised to see Victoria Nietsneknarf there, hunched over an open panel behind one of our—her—new robotic guardsmen.

I thought my little flats were pretty quiet, but she froze and tilted her head the second I came around the column. The corner of watery her eye gleamed over huge shoulders and a coat that had once been white. She could never be bothered to get dressed up for these things. The thing I didn’t get, though, was why wear a white coat if it’s just gonna get all smudgy with all that hands-on work? “H-hi Victoria,” I said, to break the ice. She went back to what she was doing. The Ohmpressor’s shoulders slouched, inactive, and there were a bunch of greasy bolts and scratched-up socket wrenches and things below the open panel on the back of the ‘bot. “Nice night, huh?” She continued twisting a screwdriver deep into the spine of the armored guard. I winced with every twist. I really needed to know if she’d seen Xue-Fang, though, so I kept trying. “Say, why aren’t you celebrating with the rest of the crew?”

She halted, mid-twist. Her watery eyes swiveled to me. Her look felt sharper than any screwdriver, and I squeezed the handle of my silver shovel tighter.

“Who has the time?” she finally said. The thing with Victoria is you never remember how deep her voice is until you hear it. And you always finish the conversation glad she’s on your team. Or maybe that’s just me.

“Ha, yeah, I know, right?” I said. A vein appeared in her forehead. Not a good sign, and made worse by the fact that a big stitched up scar went straight across it. You didn’t always see her scars, or her stitches, unless you looked close. And nobody was off their rocker enough to look close.

There were tiny differences across each scar, like she was pieced together from a dozen different people. Seeing her getting her big rubber gloves greasy, fixing one measly hench-bot, it was easy to forget I was talking to the architect of the Total Conversion. She must really have a thing about stitching things together.

“Do you need something, Evilfied Bianka?” There it was, my full villain name, and hopefully my Boss name one day. I still wasn’t used to that, and it always felt like people were reminding me that I wasn’t originally one of them. Maybe I wasn’t made to be a Boss like Xue-Fang and Victoria, but I sure as heck earned it. (Sorry for the language.)

I opened my mouth to ask her, but there was a rumble in the walls. Something dark and round opened in the ceiling, a big green ring—no, a tube, coming down from the ceiling. Bosses didn’t shriek or scream when things like this happened. I mean, they were usually responsible for it. But they did take a few steps back.

The tube made a sound I’m gonna try to write. It was like, “Byeoop byeoop byeoop!” And then it dumped about a few tons of snow onto the floor in the middle of the ballroom. That was not good. The gala was ruined before the speech even happened, and I was going to get an earful when Xue-Fang got back. And it wasn’t even my fault!

The pipe was done barfing snow into our Armory’s nicest room, and it disappeared. The pile of snow shook and shuffled, and a guy in a tuxedo with a huge backpack walked out of it. In Xue-Fang’s voice, he shouted, “Out. All of you,” while slapping the slush off of his sleeves and slacks. He found me out of the crowd instantly, even though I was upstairs leaning over the balcony. “Bianka! Throne room, now! They’ve reached the Shard.”

The other Bosses sipped their Dom Carrion with confused (and some amused) looks on their faces, so he turned back into his normal shape: the tall, long-haired human with pointy shoulders and gray-green eyes. And he looked tee-oh’d big time. “Get out!” he shrieked at the other Bosses, a cap of snow still on his scalp like a little white hat.

Oh brother, what a day this was turning out to be. Victoria forgot about me and smiled.