Patreon Side Story #11: Reaper’s Royale

--- Amadeus Newton ---

He looked around the metal container he and his ‘team’ had been placed inside of, mostly noting the way that everything was shaking as they were taken to the ‘battlefield’.

“No need to look so nervous, newbie.” The female of his teammates told him, a slight fakeness to her voice as it came through her translator. “Me and Hector are old pros at this.”

“I’m not nervous.” He responded, because truthfully he wasn’t. He had far bigger worries than this shit show he’d gotten himself on.

“Ah, I don’t know man, you’re looking a little out of it.” The male argued, a compassionate smile on his face. “Ain’t no shame in it, I was the same way on my first few runs.”

“I’m fine.” He reaffirmed. (After all, it’s not like I have to win this stupid game. I just have to make it to the final half, which can be done by playing it safe.)

Not wanting to continue this line of thought he opened his data bracer, and double checked his team composition.

The french redhead was an Arcane with a decent mix of offense, utility, and support who this season was averaging out at around the thirty-sixth place out of thirty-five in her matches. All in all she was an ideal teammate as far as he could tell.

The curly haired man on the other hand was less so, given how he ranked around forty-eight on average, and had a more generic range as a simple Marksman, with some tactical tendencies. Meaning if someone was going to bring them down, it was probably going to be him. (I’ll just have to keep an eye on him and make sure he isn’t taken out early.)

“Hey, Mari, any idea where we want to land?” Hector asked, drawing his attention to his two more sociable teammates.

“Split between the hedges and the construction yard.” Marinette answered, looking the battlefield map over on her own data bracer. “That’s where the best loot cards are pinging.”

“We don’t want the construction yard.” He warned them. “Max Havoc,” (the stupidly named) “is in this round, and he always starts where there’s a lot of metal to work with.”

Hector grimaced, opening his own bracer to check their competition. “Shit, hate fighting that guy. By the late game he’s a walking storm of metal, throwing freight trains at everyone.”

“Meaning we should hit the construction yard to take him out early.” Marinette threw out, clearly wanting to go on an early offensive.

“If that’s the plan, the junkyard would be a better bet.” He figured, not completely opposed to the idea. (Just cautious.) “Havoc might side-step the construction yard for a safer start, it would cost him the higher grade spell cards but it would still give him a solid start since everyone would be looking to deny him that heavy start.” (And if he isn’t there it’s far enough out of the way that no one will be picking us off in the early game.)

He’d be happiest if he could make it to the final half without having to fight, but knowing the low odds of pulling that off, he’d settle for playing it safe with minimal conflict. (After all, I need to make it out of this thing in one piece…)

The various screens around their container turned on with the logo of a skull wearing a crown over a pair of crossed scythes, before switching to a thin (overgrown man-child) wearing a black hoodie, skull mask, and a little gold crown on his head.

“It’s me, your host with the most, Reaper Rey!” The man called out obnoxiously, before getting an applause -that if you paid attention was pre-recorded- and waving his hands through the air. “Alright, now we’ve got one hell of a line up for this week’s Reaper Royale! With fan favorite solos like Max Havoc!”

A rugged looking man appeared on the screen with a clip of him surrounded by a storm of metal and lightning as he was lifted off the ground.

“Miles Rush!”

The screen shifted to a clip of ginger haired man outpacing a motorbike while on foot before drawing a shotgun and shooting the driver who disintegrated into a swarm of lights.

“Gail Nightings.”

This time a woman appeared on screen wearing (an impractical) black dress as a fog of shadows drifted past her to surround a panicking trio before blasting them into the air.

“And of course Hope Graceson!”

Unlike the previous feeds of solo combatants, this time the feed showed a woman wearing a white jacket as she sent a glowing green energy at a trio rushing out against a crowd with thrice as many players.

“Now then, you all know the rules, but let’s go over them for any newcomers at home, shall we?” The game’s host told the cameras as he once more took the feed over. “We have one hundred contestants, in thirty two teams with our four solos entering the battlefield. Each contestant is a skilled combatant who completed our rigorous training course, and is bound to put up a show. These contestants will battle it out on our custom built battleground.”

Here the screen switched to an aerial shot of the battlefield that anyone who’d seen an episode from this season would recognize. With the whole thing taking up roughly ten square miles and featuring over a dozen artificial landmarks from the natural desert terrain, to a forest and swamp, and even a small city district all built by Deviants of one type or another.

“Across this battlefield are small loot crates with weapons or cards in them. The weapons don’t need an explanation but these cards remove the limiter restrictions that have been placed on each contestant to keep things fair. Whether this be how much battery power they’ve got, how much magic they can use at once, or what level of spells they can cast for the magic users playing.” The game’s host gave the camera smile. “And of course there are a few other cards out there to make things really interesting.”

The screen shifted to show a figure wearing a generic gray suit and mask that covered their head while giving no features save a pair of exed out eyes. On the corner of the screens there were a couple of bars visible, as well as a few score counters.

“In order to eliminate a contestant you must inflict an amount of damage equal to their pre-set health factors, which are a little higher for those with healing factors. Though to keep things fair we do put a card limited cap on how much damage they can take before our state of the art Sparktech Data Bracers warp the contestants out of the arena.”

The gray clad figure was warped into a medical bay, before a second gray figure was shown still in the field, the only obvious difference between them being a large two on their shirt.

“Should a player be eliminated, another member of their team can have the player returned to the game by getting to a reaper station -which only open after a third of the contestants have been downed- and claiming its single-use resurrection card.”

The second gray figure walked into a large kiosk with a crowned skull sitting on top of it before collecting a hovering card in the middle of it. A few gray figures in nurses outfits surrounded the downed figure before a cloud obscured them and they were warped in next to the second and high fived them.

After a moment the screen flashed back to Rey standing in front of several stacks of money, each taller than the previous. “Now then every contestant gets a prize for participating, but that prize escalates the longer they fight until they get the grand prize of one million dollars! Which at the end of the year will culminate in all of the winners from this year’s season duking it out for ten times that!”

Unlike any other newcomers in this game, he wasn’t interested in the million dollar prize, something that he was fairly certain the more stable and recurring contestants had all but given up on after years of competing. (Slow and steady, all I need to do is make sure this team makes it to at least the final half.)

Not exactly easy, but doable.

“With the rules set, and our contestants now in place…”

A red light flashed on above and all three of them stood.

“Let the games begin and may the best reaper win!” The (idiot) cheered as the back door of their vehicle opened, letting a powerful draft pull at them and down to the ground a mile below.

“Come on newbie, let’s put on a show!” Hector laughed, jumping out first.

“Don’t worry, we'll show you the ropes and you’ll be a pro in no time.” Marinette promised, quickly following after.

“I don’t need to be a pro. I just need to win.” He scoffed before running down the ramp and leaping into the open air.

--- Past ---

“And that's another takedown for Max Havoc!” The TV yelled, replaying someone with less brains than muscles being slammed into a stone wall by a floating wall of metal.

“I don’t get why you’re a fan of this show.” He couldn’t help but comment as he continued to chip away at his sudoku puzzle, preferring the more intellectual pursuit to his sister’s obsession with this overly violent sport. (If it can be called that.)

“Oh, come on you can’t tell me you don’t find people with superpowers duking it out to be fun to watch.” Mia whined, kicking his leg.

“I can and I will.” He disagreed, putting his book down to actually look at the TV. “I mean, if you really wanted to watch people with powers fight you could just watch a bunch of Mask fights rather than this overpriced junk.”

“It’s not overpriced, it’s a three hour contest with a hundred people competing against each other. And you can freely switch between a bunch of different feeds and rewatch whatever you want online after buying the ticket.” Mia tried to explain away paying an entire day's pay on the event. “Well that and it’s low stakes enough that it doesn’t matter who wins or loses.”

“Maybe… but wasting money on crap like this is why you’re stuck rooming with me.” He reminded his spend thrift sister.

“No, I live with you because no one will rent to a first time renter in this city.” Mia argued. “Well that and without me you’d lock yourself in this place and never come out except for food and water.”

“That’s not true.” He told her. “I’d also come out for coffee.”

His sister rolled her eyes. “You see this is why mom told me to take care of you instead of you taking care of me, ‘big bro’.”

“She told us to take care of each other.” He reminded her, slightly pained by the reminder of their mother’s passing a year past, but glad that Mia was willing to joke about it rather than locking herself in her room and never coming out.

With that in mind he gave the show his sister was so interested in another once over. “So who exactly is this guy? You’ve been ‘following’ him or whatever for most of this game.”

“That’s Max Havoc, he’s an Arcane who can control metal and lightning.” Mia answered. “He’s also a solo, meaning his team has won the yearly championship and gained the right to play solo during the competition.”

“Why would they want that?” He frowned. “I mean, if this is a team sport or whatever he’d be at a distinct disadvantage if he went out by himself.”

“Yeah, well the teams are all randomized more or less, so everything is a real alliance of convenience. The hosts especially like putting fan favorites on the same team if they eliminated each other recently.” Mia explained. “So they give that up and in exchange the ‘limiters’ placed on their personal abilities are reduced.”

“Right, those are the things that keep an Arcane from throwing out a different spell for every situation.” He nodded, remembering something about that. “Which is why this guy looks like he belongs on a heavy metal album instead of looking like some random contestant.”

“Heh, funny thing is he actually is the front man for a metal band.” Mia chuckled awkwardly.

“Explains the impractically long hair in what is supposed to be a death game.” He admitted.

“Yeah.” Mia agreed, her laugh turning into a cough.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Just, just… my asthma is… acting up.” Mia wheezed. “You mind… grabbing my… inhaler?”

“Sure thing.” He told her getting up from the couch and making his way towards Mia’s bedroom. “It’s in your purse, right?”

“Yeah…”

He stepped into his sister’s room with rock band posters on the wall and a pair of stuffed animals she’d had since she was five still laying on her bed even after fifteen years.

Going over to her nightstand he started shifting through it for her inhaler before placing it back next to a photo of him, her, and their mother from a few years prior. The only real family any of them had had for as long as he could remember.

With the inhaler in hand, he quickly made his way back to Mia and handed it to her.

She put the inhaler in her mouth and pressed down on the top while taking in a deep breath.

“Better?” He asked after a moment.

Mia nodded, before starting to cough even harder than before.

He reached out futilely and began rubbing circles into her back, not sure what else he could do to help her through this fit.

When the coughing finally subsided he noticed his sister’s hands were covered in blood.

--- Present ---

His grav-pack cut out while he was still a story in the air, forcing him to take the impact with a painful roll that made him wish he’d focused a little more on his physical training for this thing. (No matter, it’s not my physical abilities that’ll pull me through this.)

“You good newbie?” Marinette asked as he dusted himself off.

“I’ll live.” He told her before looking around the junkyard, haphazard piles of metal all around them, only standing due to whatever Deviant forces put them up in the first place. “Anything pinging on the radar?”

“Couple points of interest, but I didn’t see anyone flying this way while we were in the air.” Hector answered looking at his data bracer as he started to walk. “Closest one is this way.”

“Right.” He nodded, before reaching behind him and touching a piece of sparktech the show managers had insisted he bring with him, causing one of the dozen or so drones he’d built before the match to materialize in his hand. “Just give me a second.”

He tossed the drone into the air and began controlling it from his data bracer, while the range was limited without any of those Loot cards the camera on the drone was still good enough for him to get a decent idea of what each point of interest looked like from the outside.

“Alright, the point to our north is a guarded chest, the one to the southeast is in a building, and the one to our west is a chest out in the open.” He noted going over his surroundings.

“Great.” Marinette started moving west, probably having seen a drone before at some point in the game. “Any idea what that’s chest’s rarity is?”

He shook his head, following as he brought his drone closer. “Had to trade a colored camera for flight due to ‘game balance’ or some trite like that.”

“Ugh, hate it when they do that.” Hector grimaced before shrugging. “At the very least it nerfs other people and not just us though.”

“Unless you’re a solo.” He pointed out dryly.

“Yeah, but they trade their teammates for those buffs.” Hector argued dismissively. “Rather have backup than a powerup.”

(That makes one of us.) He scoffed internally.

“Anyone nearby?” Marinette asked once the chest -a rare blue- came into view.

He flew his drone in a quick patrol circle. “Not at the moment, but we’ve only got eight minutes before the boundary starts setting in.”

“Right, if we want to hit the other points we need to get moving.” Marinette nodded moving for the chest. “Watch my six.”

While Marinette opened the chest he pushed his drone’s current limit to see if he could spot anything noteworthy on the horizon, (after all if Havoc is here he isn’t one for subtlety. His survival strategy is just making himself into the biggest and most obvious hazard in the hopes of scaring people off.)

A strategy he had no problem accepting if it upped his odds of winning.

“Anything good?” Hector asked once the chest whirred open, Marinette having completed whatever simple puzzle was used to lock it.

He glanced over his shoulder as the metal box unfolded to reveal three platforms inside, the side two with guns on them and the one in the middle with something he couldn’t see from his angle.

“Magic card, scattergun, and a rifle.” Marinette listed off taking what was more than likely a small SD card and adding it to her gauntlet. “You both use tech so who wants what?”

“I’ll take the rifle.” Hector called, grabbing the gun in question. “Newbie can have the Scattergun.”

“You’ve got the training for this right?” Marinette asked, tossing him the gun that looked like something out of a sci-fi shooter rather than real life.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He reminded her, checking the gun over. (Six short range electrical pulses, then a long recharge timer but at the very least I don’t need to find ammo, and… can be upgraded up to three times since it's rare.)

He still preferred his handgun.

Their data bracers pinged as someone was eliminated from the game.

“And we’ve first blood to a lightning bolt.” Hector laughed.

Instead of giving his actual reaction to that, he forced it down and asked, “Guarded chest or building next?”

“Now that we’re armed, guarded is our best bet.” Marinette noted. “No surprises and with the higher rating we’ll hopefully grab you both a couple cards for yourselves. Unless they had a serious threat to them?”

“Three hounds of some kind.” He answered, being the only one to have seen the chest. “If we each target one it shouldn’t be too hard to pull off.”

“Then let’s get moving.” Marinette told them, taking off. “If we’re fast we can grab both points before the fog starts setting in.”

“Agreed.” He nodded, knowing that statistically the better a team’s starting finds were the better off they did overall.

It took them but a moment to get to the second chest, where they found three purple hound like creatures with horns that some Arcane had summoned for the sole purpose of being fodder to whomever wanted the chest’s contents.

“I’ll get the first one, Mari you get the second with your fire, newbie grab the last one.” Hector told them as he lined up his shot.

Rather than waiting for a response, the marksman pulled the trigger on his rifle, gunning down one of the purple hounds and drawing the attention of the other two who immediately began rushing them, likely desensitized to the noise of guns after however many times they’d been forced into this role.

Marinette immediately began building a flame in her hand, waiting for the beasts to get closer as he raised his own gun and did the same.

Once they were in range the Arcane threw out her hand and launched a sphere of flame at the hounds before snapping her fingers and causing it to explode once it was in range of the beasts.

He paused for only a moment as he waited to see if the explosion had killed both of the hounds before pulling his trigger twice as the smoke shifted, and the beast within began to emerge. The first shot forced the hound back as its mid-air lunge left it without the purchase to avoid the shot, and he stepped into the second to keep the beast in range to finish it off.

“Damn, newbie, you’re coldblooded.” Hector laughed. “Most newbies freak out the first time they get rushed by something with fangs.”

“Just means they were never in a fight before coming here.” He pointed out, purposely obscuring the fact that he hadn’t been in a fight until a few months prior when he’d purposely gone around looking for as many as possible to beat the fear out of himself.

Something he knew would’ve been considered harsh by most if not for the fact, (I’ve got something far greater to fear out there.)

--- Past ---

“Well the news isn’t exactly good.” The Doctor told him as he watched the nurse dealing with his sister.

“How… how bad is it?” He asked with some hesitancy, because no matter how badly he didn’t want to know, he needed to know.

“Based on what we can tell your sister has a rare deformation in her lungs that is steadily growing worse. According to our records, she’s had this for years but during her younger years the doctors on call had hoped it would heal itself given how it seemed to be holding. Unfortunately, it seems like once she quit growing the deformation started to grow worse rather than better.” The doctor answered, looking like he was far too used to giving bad news.

“Fuck…” He cursed, knowing that before she passed their mother had likely known about this but been just as hopeful as those doctors. (And all she told me was that Mia had asthma…)

He shook his head, forcing any thoughts on that matter to the back of his mind to deal with later, “Is there anything you can do for her? I mean with all of the Deviant healing stuff, there’s got to be something.”

“There is, though it’s not exactly cheap.” The doctor warned him.

“Why should that matter?” He frowned. “This is my sister’s life, I know the Hero’s Guild handles this kind of thing all the time.”

“It matters because while you’re right in that we’d usually be able to wave off Deviant healing as a form of community service or through charity programs involving the hero’s guild and Sanctuary, the nature of your sister’s deformation makes these… untenable.” The Doctor explained. “Since this deformation is genetic in nature, most forms of healing would view this as her default state. Meaning even if we gave her a one time fix it would still result in any future healing causing more damage, which while not the greatest concern normally, makes the maintenances that such a through operation would require… unfeasible.”

“Okay… Okay… so, what about like… cyberpunks?” He tried. “Don’t they have prosthetics? Can’t we give her a set of artificial lungs?”

“We could, but unfortunately there aren’t many M.A.D.s specializing in medical work that aren’t working full time on maintaining the guild or Sanctuary’s existing cyberpunks.” The Doctor shot down. “We could still bring an M.A.D. in from elsewhere but… they’re going to have to be paid for the operation and the maintenance same as any Arcane method.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Fuck… I… How much would it cost?”

“Going off of our current understanding of the deformation in your sister’s lungs? Roughly a hundred thousand dollars.” The Doctor told him.

That was more than he made in a year, and going off the math, it would take him years to build up that kind of money living off of the minimum.

“How… how long does she have before she needs the surgery?” He’d get her the surgery, he just… (I just need time to figure this out… to get the money together.)

“At the moment? She has maybe two years left if she doesn’t get the surgery.” The Doctor warned him.

“Are there… are there any programs I can apply for to… to cover this?” He asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer.

The Doctor grimaced. “There are a few, but with the waiting lists there’s no telling if she’ll be approved before it’s too late. And the longer it takes the more time she’s going to spend in the hospital, which…”

“Is also going to cost me…” He finished, remembering how much trouble their mother’s medical bills had caused over the years leading up to her passing. “Fuck.”

The Doctor was silent for a moment, giving him a chance to think things over, before their pager went off. “While you don’t have an infinite amount of time, you do have some time to figure things out. At the very least your sister will need to stay overnight, so we can try to discuss options tomorrow with her present if you’d prefer.”

“Yeah… sure…” He nodded listlessly before collapsing into a nearby chair when the doctor left him alone.

After a moment he began to curse, “Shit… shit… shit!” as he banged his head against the wall with each blow. “Where the fuck am I going to come up with that kind of money in a year…?”

Running the math in his head, based on what he’d been told the first night would cost was his job would just barely be enough to pay both to keep her in the hospital and the lights on, but that still would leave him with next to no progress on paying her treatment even if he went massively into debt to keep her at least semi-comfortable.

“What am I going to do?” He asked the world around him, desperate for any sign.

His eyes drifted around the apartment before landing on the TV, playing a rerun of that stupid Reaper Royale Mia loved so much. More specifically a rerun of someone being sniped in the head from half a mile away.

“Oof, and he was doing so well.” The idiot announcer cried. “At the very least our friend here made it to the final ten, netting him a solid hundred thousand and a guaranteed reentry into one of this month’s other games!”

“Hundred thousand…” He blinked, staring at the tv for a moment before pulling out his phone to look several things up.

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--- Present ---

He checked his data bracer, noting that if he lost right this second he would be placed at seventy-ninth place, with a payout of five grand and a complete elimination from this year’s season. (Unacceptable.)

“Well, you coming or not?” Hector asked him.

He threw his drone into the air and sent it flying towards the team they were tracking.

“I’m coming.” He answered, because while he’d prefer to play it passive and safe he’d also studied the statistics long enough to know that in the long run aggressive players were more likely to have greater gains and place higher. (I can’t be scared to fight. Mia is fighting, and so will I.)

After a moment he spotted the other team, unfortunately none of them stood out from the catalog of contestants he’d gone over almost religiously for the past year. “They’re moving north by north east, any points on the map that way?”

“None in my scanning range.” Marinette frowned as they continued their pursuit.

“Meaning they’re probably trying to get in the circle early.” He noted, his timer saying that they weren’t within the circle and had about a minute before the fog started to close once more.

“Right, any locations nearby for a shootout or should we try to catch them out in the open?” The Arcane of their team asked.

“Map says were coming up on that small town, the one with that oversized mascot that I still refuse to believe isn’t an ad of some kind.” Hector answered.

“Lots of chests there, might luck out and their party will split to scavenge as quick as they can.” He pointed out, knowing that while splitting from your team tend to get you shot the houses were probably close enough for them to search and still back each other up.

“Maybe…” Marinette nodded as they came over a hill overlooking about a dozen houses, a small gas station, and -like Hector claimed- an oversized fast food restaurant. “Your drone see where they go?”

He checked his bracer. “They’re near the gas station, two of them going in and the third is keeping watch.”

“They must’ve spawned a car or something in the station this time round.” Marinette figured, as they started making their way down the hill, all of them keeping their eyes up as the occasional bout of gunfire played through the air.

“Meaning we need to move if we want to get there before they find the key.” Hector pointed out, causing all three of them to pick up the pace.

Moving through the simulated suburb they eventually came up to the gas station, only to find the guard missing.

“Think they left?” Hector asked.

“No. Door to the garage is still shut. At the very least the car is still here.” Marinette pointed out. “Guy probably wandered off to search one of the houses. Anything popping on your drone, newbie? Might be able to pick him off and then the others.”

“Give me a sec-Fuck.” He cursed as his drone’s vision went to static as a gunshot rang through the air. “They just shot my drone, they know we’re here.”

“Out of the open!” Marinette called as she rushed towards the gas station.

He moved to follow but had to jump back as a wall of ice shot up blocking him off from the others. “Shit.”

Not wasting a second, he immediately jumped backwards barely avoiding several shots from whichever member of the other team had eyes on him. Shots that proceeded to follow him as the shooter followed his stumbling backwards run until he collided with a fence between the gas station and a nearby house.

When the gunfire paused, the shooter likely reloading, he threw his gun over before climbing the shoulder high fence.

He moved to grab his gun before having to duck to the side as a bullet caught his hand, something that would’ve taken one of his fingers off if not for the safety features the Royale forced on all of the weapons in the arena.

Knowing that that wouldn’t be the only bullet he began creeping along the fence, blatantly ignoring the growing spread of gunfire behind him as he made his way around the house before running to put it between him and the shooter as he rushed for the otherside.

Or rather would have rushed for the otherside if he didn’t crash into one of the other competitors, sending them both tumbling into a pool full of water.

The cold chlorine filled water burned at his eyes as he and the other competitor scrambled in a tangling flurry of limbs to escape the other, before eventually just shoving each other away so they could each break the water’s surface for air.

He gasped as his hand shot out and latched onto the edge of the pool before he drew his handgun from his hip and aimed it at the other competitor who just barely managed to reach the edge himself.

More on desperate instinct than anything thought out he began pulling the trigger on the gun, shooting the other man with a dozen rounds and causing him to explode into a flurry of lights as his spark tech warped him out of the game arena. Something he didn’t register until the fourth time he pulled the trigger only for nothing to happen.

“Fuck…” He groaned, taking in as many deep and steading breaths as he could before climbing out of the pool and making his way for the sliding backdoor in a number of soaked, stumbling, steps.

Slamming the door behind him he checked his bracer and found that he’d lucked out in stumbling into a house with a point of interest, one that given the location was more than likely a chest of some kind. (Good… I’m out of ammo and there are still two others on that team…)

With that in mind he pushed himself off the sliding glass door and started moving through the house. (Okay, in houses chests are usually in the basement or on the second floor… don’t see a door for the basement, so let’s try upstairs.)

He idly noticed a couch in the living room on his way to the stairs, and wanted little more than to climb on top of it and sleep this whole thing off but- (No, I’m not done… It’s too early to lose… I need to keep fighting.)

Near the top of the stairs he heard the front door to the house being slammed open by one of the other team, and he couldn’t help but grimace as he checked his bracer to find Marinette and Hector still locked in the gas station. Though thanks to shooting so close to him he could also see the last known position of the one who’d fired upon him outside of said station. (Meaning he’s probably the ice user, and keeping them locked down.)

His eyes darted to the contestant count as he quietly crept through the second floor. (Seventy-seventh place… Meaning if I can take this guy out, then all I have to do is wait for Hector, Marinette, or the third guy to take someone out and I’ll be at the ten grand mark with eligibility for another game.)

Nodding to himself he glanced into each room he passed, hoping to find the chest that would give him a fighting chance now that his handgun was out of ammo. A hope that grew a little dimmer with each empty room until he spotted a faint glow coming from the master bedroom’s closet.

As quietly as he could he stepped in and closed the door behind him before opening the closet and finding a chest giving off purple lights, its contents clearly color coded as ‘Epic’.

Crouching down, he clicked the chest’s lock and waited a moment for a small screen light up and reveal the lock’s puzzle of a nine by nine grid of squares, half of which were filled with numbers.

“Sudoku? Easy.” He smiled, the math puzzles one of the few free pleasures he could afford over the last few months.

As fast as his fingers could he began filling the grid in with numbers that would flash green when he placed the right one in the right slot, and while he didn’t see it, he knew that if he put the wrong one anywhere the number would turn red before deleting itself. And if he got three red numbers then the lock would kick him out, refusing to let anyone open it for five minutes that he absolutely did not have.

When the chest popped open, it gave off a loud chime that revealed his location to anyone nearby, namely his pursuer. As the chest folded open he found a reload card on his left, a card picturing a gear with a wrench over it on his right, and most importantly a sci-fi looking automatic rifle on the center platform.

He swiped the card and quickly slotted it into his bracer before picking up the gun as it upgraded the skill he’d slotted it into, [Jailbroken Tech]. A costly skill that unlike his drone wouldn’t work right without at least one upgrade to it, and had taken him several hours of dismantling then piecing back together the various guns and tech available to the contestants of Reaper’s Royale in front of a judge.

Once approved however…

He triggered his skill on the gun, removing a number of the limiters placed onto the tech by the game hosts to keep its threat level low and give people an incentive to find ‘upgrade’ cards even after finding their weapon of choice.

Turning to the door, he dropped to one knee and aimed down the sights, waiting for any sign that his pursuer was on the other side.

Below the door a shadow crossed under the threshold, and he pulled the trigger, sending freshly upgraded spark tech bullets out of the rifle, through the door their new pierce effect ignored before following up with a spray through the walls on either side of the door when there was no flash of light from the first volley.

When he ran out of ammo he quickly triggered the second aspect of his [Jailbroken Tech] ability, one that allowed him to instantly reload any Tech Weapon without waiting the standard recharge time bound to the weapon class.

Pulling the trigger down once more he unleashed another round of bullets through the door, his heart pounding in staccato with the gunfire as he began to wonder if he was just wasting all his ammo until- A flash of light lit up through the various holes in the door, and his bracer chimed once more.

“Fuck… that was close.” He sighed, letting his heart calm down as he leaned against the bed.

After a moment, he worked up the nerve to check his bracer again and found that he was sitting at seventy-fifth place. A quick check of his team status revealed that Hector and Marinette had managed to take down the ice user outside.

It also revealed that the fog was beginning to roll in and they were not inside the circle.

“Need to keep moving.” He groaned, forcing himself back onto his feet before collecting the reload card and whatever Loot the other contestant had dropped.

As he started down the stairs he slotted the reload card into his bracer and nodded when a moment later two handgun clips were warped to him via whatever sparktech the Royale used for this game show of theirs.

Stepping out into the sunlight he covered his eyes, the sudden light standing in stark contrast to the shadows of the house.

A honking drew his gaze to the side where he found Hector pulling up to the house in a red truck with Marinette sitting in the back.

“Need a lift?” The other man asked. “Cheapest taxi in town.”

“Sure.” He smirked, before tossing the other man a Tech Skill card his pursuer had dropped. “Keep the change.”

--- Past ---

“Fuck, ya’ must be some kind of masochist Hume.” The Orkin in front of him laughed. “Not going to lie, I respect that.”

He coughed before raising his hands once more. “Shut up and keep fighting.”

The traveler gave him a once over before shaking his head. “Nah, if we keep going I might break ya’ more than the boss man can fix ya’.”

He took a step forward to argue, before grimacing as he stumbled.

“Yeah, we’re done here.” The Orkin reaffirmed.

“Surprised you lasted this long.” A dark haired Arcane in jeans commented.

“Not long enough.” He pointed out, more for himself than the man in front of him.

“You’re really determined to try your hand at this Mask thing aren’t you?” The Arcane sighed, before giving the Orkin a look. “Drag him to the bench will ya?”

“On it boss.”

He felt rather than saw as the Orkin grabbed him with one hand and picked him up before none too gently dropping him onto a nearby bench.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling several of his bruises flare up on impact.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to slow it down some.” The Arcane told him.

“Still not enough.” He argued, knowing that even with his acceptance into the Reaper’s Royale contestant pool, it wouldn’t be enough until he’d paid for Mia’s operation.

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with becoming a Mask.” The Arcane told him, fingers flashing through several hand signs before a golden aura began to emit from them.

“I’m not becoming a Mask.” He answered for the umptenth time, knowing that the Arcane wouldn’t believe him.

“Only people with this kind of drive are Masks.” The Arcane disagreed once more. “Tell me what would you have done if you hadn’t found a gym owned by an Arcane?”

“Figured something else out.” And he would’ve. Just like he did by downgrading to a studio apartment, switching to an all ramen diet to pay for Mia’s hospital bills while buying Deviant vitamins with what little he had left over to make sure he gained weight rather than losing it as he trained at the small fighting gym.

“If you don’t slow down you’re going to get kill yourself.” The Arcane warned him.

(Just so long as I save Mia before I do.)

“Right, I’m not getting through to you.” The Arcane sighed before standing up. “Well that’s as much healing as your membership level covers, and I’m not going to encourage you by giving you any freebies.”

“Don’t need them.” He assured the Arcane as he stood up despite his still protesting muscles.

“Whatever you say.” The Arcane shook his head before walking away, likely deeming him a lost cause.

“So how much long before ya’ go ta war?” The Orkin asked once his summoner was out of range.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scoffed, reaching into his gym bag and pulling out his jacket.

“Sure, ya’ don’t. Boss may think you're becomin’ one a dem Mask folk, but I can tell ya’ really preparin’ for a fight ya’d rather die than lose.” The Orkin told him.

He kept silent as he slid his jacket on.

“Not even a year and ya’s gone from bein’ a scrawny lil thing, a love tap would drop, to someone who can go three or four rounds with me.” The Orkin continued regardless. “That’s impressive for a Hume.”

“Is there a point to this?” He asked, grabbing his bag.

The Orkin gave smirked. “Nah, just sayin’ ya’s gots more fight than most of ya people. So if ya’s fighting another Hume you're war is good as won.”

“I don’t need to ‘win the war’.” He disagreed, pulling out a half built machine from his bag before throwing it over his shoulder. “All I need to do is survive long enough to meet my goal, then rinse and repeat until I’m done.

“Despite what most ya Hume think, we Orkin do understand tactics, boyo.” The Traveler pointed out. “All war is, is makin’ the other guy bleed more than ya.”

“I’d rather not bleed at all if I could help it.” He admitted, as he began to work on the machine in his hands, part of him longing for the day Mia was cured and he could just rest.

“Where's the fun in that?” The Orkin laughed before giving him a truly monstrous grin when given by something literally twice your size. “Trust me boyo, I see how ya really is. Once you get a taste for it ya ain’t going to settle for just survivin’ you're war. Ya’s going to want to win it.”

“I don’t care about winning this stupid game.” He growled at the Orkin. “I just want to do well enough to do what I have to and then get out.

“Aye, and that’s what most young scholarly Orkin think before they get their first blood.” The Orkin nodded with a grin. “Become a Merc like their forefathers, just enough to support the fam, then bam.” The Orkin punched his hand. “They catch the bloodlust and remember why their forefathers became Mercs in the first place.”

“Yeah, well I’m an orphan, not an Orkin, so whoever my forefathers they are can go fuck themselves.” He told the Orkin as he started to walk away, not wanting to hear the words of a race that loved fighting so much they decided to go to other worlds just to pick more of them.

(He has no idea what he’s talking about, I’m not playing to win, I’m playing to pay for Mia’s operation. Nothing more.)

--- Present ---

“Thirty-second place…” He noted, staring down at his Data Bracer.

As was, a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders the moment he passed the fiftieth place marker, as he’d reached the point of at least having a second chance should he lose.

Something he hadn’t experienced in over a year’s time.

That weight had only grown lighter when he’d crossed the fiftieth mark and realized he was one fourth of the way to his goal with another eleven months on the clock. Meaning with ten more tries he could easily make the rest in six games as long as he hit the reentry minimum in them.

(Heh, I really can pull this off…) He’d had some doubts, knowing that this game show was more a longshot than anything realistic, but at the same time (it was this or selling weapons to a gang.) Which could land him in jail and Mia on her own in her final days.

Rolling his shoulders he leaned back and looked at the road they were stuck on since the truck couldn’t handle the terrain they’d otherwise be covering on foot. Admittedly this meant they were stuck moving all over the game area to try and out maneuver the fog, but the truck also gave them a decent enough moving base to make quick raids on any points of interest before moving twice as fast as they could on foot.

And that was excluding the memory he was trying to repress of Hector purposely trying to run someone over and them then shattering into light beneath the car as they were warped away before they could be injured. (Hopefully…)

“Really lucked out with the truck. We keep this pace up and we’ll be hitting the fifth tier prize.” Marinette told him, referencing the prize that while fifty grand for him was probably a different amount in her own native currency.

“Yeah.” He agreed, his eyes drifting to the wall of fog that he could now see in all directions, even if a fair bit off in most of said directions. “Just got to keep it steady, we’re reaching that point where everyone left in the game is going to be a threat.”

“Aw, you worry too much newbie!” Hector called through the back window. “We’re on a winning streak, at this point we could probably sit back and let the fog push us up to the next tier and rake in that sweet sweet cash.”

“Maybe.” He nodded, glad they were considering just riding it out for the next while. (Then again we’re currently placed higher than either of their averages, so I guess professionally they’ve hit their ‘quota’ for this game. Anything else is a bonus at this point.)

“You’re sitting at two takedowns and in the top forty, you’re doing a lot better than most newbies.” Marinette tried to assure him as they entered a grove of trees. “If you can keep this up, you’ll be a proper pro in no time.”

“Heh, maybe.” He appreciated the sentiment, but he still had zero intention of sticking to this Reaper Royale nonsense once Mia’s operation was paid for. “Let’s see how this season goes fir-brace!”

A wave of metal crashed into the truck, sending it flying off the ground with a flip through the air that sent him and Marinette rolling across the ground in a painful slam that as he came to a stop a few moments later left him extremely grateful cars and trucks were limited so that they couldn’t go over thirty miles an hour.

“Fuck…” He wheezed, his (everything) hurting. “Marinette? Hector? Either of you still there?” Honestly he was surprised he wasn’t evac-ed after a topple like that, but a weak look at his bracer showed the thing had him in the red but not in so far as to eliminate him.

“Yeah… I’m here… just give me a second…” Marinette told him a faint golden glow coming from the direction he thought her voice had.

After a moment the Arcane stumbled into his line of sight with a visible limp, before leaning over him as more of the golden glow emitted from her hands, filling him with a sort of aching warmth as he felt his pain slowly fade.

“Right, don’t have time to fully heal anyone. Whoever hit us is probably right around the corner.” She warned him, before killing her spell. “You good to walk?”

“Just barely.” He admitted, forcing himself to sit up. “Hector was still in the truck, any idea where it landed?”

Marinette gestured to his right. “Over there somewhere. Bracer says he’s still in the game though.”

“Right, let’s get him and get out of here.” There were only so many people who could throw around a wall of metal, and he really did not want to run into the one he knew was in this game.

When they found Hector he had a trail of blood dripping from a cut on his head and was hanging from his seatbelt in the truck that itself had been completely flipped over.

“Fuck, that looks bad.” He couldn’t help but grimace.

“I’ve seen people walk off worse from this game.” Marinette assured him as she started healing him. “The Royale has some of the best healers in the world on call, and they raise the damage threshold slightly if you’ve got a healer on the team.”

“Well thanks for that.” He chuckled bitterly, not sure whether or not he should be grateful as his eyes never left the horizon, searching for any more shifting masses of metal seeking their demise.

“Fuuuck… my head…” Hector groaned as he started to come to. “That must’ve been… some party last night…”

“Alright, he’s conscious. Help me get him out of here so that we can get moving.” Marinette told him as she used a small but powerful flame to melt the truck door open.

While she did that he warped in a spare drone from the dozen he’d made before the contest and threw it into the air, hoping he’d be able to get an idea of where the probable solo was coming at them from.

The fact that he lost control of the drone fairly quickly and could only watch through its camera as the machine was slammed into the ground with enough force to crush it did more damage to his hope than anything else.

“Sent a drone south and just watched it get smashed.” He warned Marinette as she finally forced the door open and started on Hector’s belt.

“Fuck…” The Arcane cursed before raising her hand into the air, a mass of black smoke beginning to build around it before she threw it southward unleashing a murder of crows as the magic solidified. “If it’s who I think it is, crows might buy us more time than your drones.”

From nearby he heard the building sound of heavy metal playing through the air.

“Pretty sure that means it’s who we think it is.” He grimaced, reaching into the truck to pull Havoc out.

“Gah, it’s that asshole Havoc…” Hector voiced what they were all thinking. “Give me a second.”

“Don’t think we have a second.” He pointed out as the music continued to grow louder, something that would’ve been a horrible tactic if not for the owner of its abilities being the exact opposite of inconspicuous.

“Trust me it’s worth it.” Hector promised, pulling out some metal sphere covered in lenses before clicking a button on it and causing a flash of light.

“Gah, that thing’s not going to help if it blinds us.” He blinked trying to clear his vision.

“If it buys us a few seconds against Havoc then it’ll be worth it.” Hector argued as he removed himself from the truck.

Helping the other man up, he began to throw the other man’s arm over his shoulder before getting shoved away.

“Let’s be real here, as banged up as we are, what are our odds of outrunning Havoc?” Hector asked, leaning against the truck.

“Not good.” He admitted, having to raise his voice a little to be heard over the music. “Which is why we should try to run while we can.”

“Or we can try to ambush him.” Hector pointed out, before setting the sphere down and clicking a different button. “I bait him, you two gun him down from the tree line over there.”

He opened his mouth to argue that they were in no condition to fight anyone, before shutting it as an image of himself was projected into the air next to an image of marinette both from when the flash went off a few seconds prior.

Forcing down his instinctive response he instead deferred to Marinette, figuring that if she was more experienced than him, she might have a better idea of what to do. “Well?”

Marinette checked her bracer before shaking her head with a sigh. “Fuck it, we aren’t going to last long and we probably can’t outrun him. Fighting him is a longshot but we probably aren’t making it to the fifth tier either way, so might as well go down swinging.”

“Fine.” He sighed himself before drawing his handgun. “Sis won’t let me live it down if I run from him of all people anyway.”

As he and Marinette made their way to cover he asked her, “You got any healing left? We should be topped up if we’re doing this.”

The Arcane checked her bracer once more before shaking her head. “No, my healing, fire, and ravens all come from the same source. I heal anything, I can’t blast him and if we’re going to try taking down a solo…”

“We’re going to need as much firepower as we can get.” He agreed, checking his own bracer for the limitations on his own abilities. “I’ve already jailbroken my handgun, and it won’t work on yours since it’s not tech… even if it wasn’t useless against Havoc, I can't summon another drone for two more minutes… and my other ability needs a drone to work.”

“Yeah, well we knew our odds weren’t great.” Marinette reminded him with a wry grin.

“True, but I don’t suppose you know where either of our heavier guns landed?” He asked as they slid behind a couple of trees.

“Nope.”

“Thought not.” He admitted.

Marinette put a finger to her lips as the music reached an apex, and they both peered around their cover to get a better look at where Hector and the holograms were standing.

From the street they’d been driving on came a man in a black t-shirt and jeans with long blonde hair and a small orb -the source of the music- floating behind him, much closer than the swarm of floating metal that vaguely drifted all around him.

(Guess that explains why we had so much time there, he was gathering his metal back up from when he blasted the truck… which he’s probably going to scrap to make his swarm bigger.)

That might be an opportunity to backstab him while he was working on that, but by then he’d probably have eliminated Hector.

Havoc started talking and though he couldn’t hear what the Arcane was saying, he was a little surprised to see the holograms reacting and moving on their own in response.

He glanced at Marinette and gave her a curious look, only for his teammate to raise a hand telling him to wait a moment. Something he could understand with the way Havoc’s metal also functioned as makeshift cover from virtually every angle you could look at.

Marinette flexed her wrist and formed a ball of flame in it as she waited for the ideal moment to strike, before telling him. “You go left, I go right.”

He nodded in understanding and gripped his gun closer.

Havoc pulled his arm back and the swarming mass of metal began to shift, readying to eliminate Hector in a decisive blow that the other man looked like he fully expected and definitely wasn’t looking forward to.

Only instead of throwing the metal at Hector, Havoc threw it at them.

“Oh, shit!” He cursed diving to the side as he realized what was happening.

He just barely had time to register his bracer saying, “Teammate: Marinette Bardot eliminated.” before he was forced to push himself off the ground and take off running as the swarm of metal began to chase after him, sparks of electricity dancing between them and lighting up the shadows of the forest.

As he continued to run, his bracer called out, “Teammate: Hector Santiago eliminated.” leaving him well and truly alone against the solo.

“Fuck!”

He didn’t bother glancing over his shoulder to see if the metal was still following him, given how small flashes of blue light lit up the world around him. So knowing that, he attempted to out maneuver the swarm by zigging and zagging through the trees, hoping that eventually he’d be able to break whatever means Havoc was using to track him.

Or rather that was the plan before the swarm slammed into the ground hard enough to make it shake, several bits of shrapnel hitting his back but thankfully not piercing his jacket as they sent him tumbling to the ground, his gun skidding out of his hand as he lost his grip on it.

“Not going to lie, you were making a decent run of it.” A rough voice told him as the heavy metal that he’d essentially tuned out began to dim. “Would’ve let you tire yourself out if you weren’t about to break into an open field. Can’t have some asshole stealing my kill from out of left field.”

He flipped himself over and forced himself back onto his feet as he stumbled away from Havoc, never taking his eyes off the Arcane even as sparking metal began to swirl around them, leaving the scent of ozone in the air.

“So any last words before you’re eliminated?” Havoc asked, a small spear of shrapnel beginning to gather around his hand.

He glanced at his bracer and grimaced, finding that several people outside of his team had apparently been eliminated since Havoc attacked their truck, which when combined with his current status and everything else. (So close…)

“Don’t suppose I can talk you into waiting five minutes to take me out? Next elimination places twenty-eight.” He told the solo, hoping to stall for just a few moments.

“Hmm, sorry it’s not really fair if I hold off on an elimination so someone can take a better prize.” Havoc answered, before giving him a smirk. “Especially when we both know you wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate me if given the chance. Like when you tried to ambush me with that redhead a minute ago.”

“That’s… fair.” He admitted with a grimace. “It’s just, it’s my first game and you know… making it to the top twenty-five would’ve been pretty cool. Would’ve given me something to really brag to my sister about… she’s a big fan of yours you know.”

Havoc gave him an amused look as he pulled back his arm. “Nice try at stalling, but I’m still taking you out.”

“Stalled you long enough.” He shrugged, reaching behind his back as his drone came off cooldown to summon it before tossing it at the solo.

“Pfft, and what exactly was that supposed to do?” Havoc smirked, catching the drone in the air with whatever spell he was using to control all the metal.

“Distract you.” He confessed, closing his eyes as he triggered his third royale sanctioned ability. One that caused his drone to detonate in an explosion of whatever he’d loaded it down with before the game had begun.

In this case a flash bang that caused Havoc to scream bloody murder, clutching at his eyes as the Arcane lost focus and his storm of metal crashed to the ground all around them.

With Havoc dazed he dove for his fallen gun before quickly turning it on Havoc and pulling the trigger, sending a spark tech bullet flying through the air and straight into the solo’s head and causing it to burst into a swarm of lights as the Arcane was warped away.

He swallowed as the light faded and he found himself standing alone surrounded by piles of metal all over, his breath coming out in half pants as he processed what had just happened. And as he realized what had happened he couldn’t help himself as a laugh bubbled up his throat at the revelation that he’d survived.

That he’d gone up against one of the most infamous solos in Reaper’s Royale and come out on top.

That, “I beat Max Fucking Havoc!” He cheered, feeling a rush like no other.

He ran a hand through his hair, as he slowly came down from his adrenaline high, a brief glance at his data bracer showing that on top of beating (Max fucking Havoc) he was mere minutes from being in the top twenty-five, a position that would mark him as half-way to his goal of being able to pay for his sister’s operation.

(A sister who better be impressed I kicked Havoc’s ass!) He laughed to himself, as he could just picture whatever reaction she was having watching him take out Havoc on her show.

And so with a smile on his face he started reached forward to grab the loot dropped by the infamous solo, knowing that while it was all but worthless to him -due to the other man being an Arcane- if he was lucky he’d be able to find one of those respawn stations to tag Marinette back in and restock her with the high level cards the other man had dropped.

Tossing the cards into the air and catching them he turned to-

He shot awake as he came out of the teleportation, his heart racing before he collapsed back onto the hospital bed he found himself on.

“Fuck, newbie what happened?” Hector cried from one of the other two beds in the room. “Alerts said you took out Havoc and then pop you were out.”

“Weren’t you watching?” Marinette frowned. “He got sniped from the side after taking Havoc out.”

“Yeah… that…” He nodded, arm over his eyes as he fought the pounding migraine left behind by whatever spark tech bullet had impacted his skull before the teleportation kicked in.

“Shit. Hate when that happens.” The other man grimaced in sympathy, before gaining a smirk. “Well unless I’m the one doing the sniping.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He sighed, lifting his arm up just enough to check his placing on his bracer. “Made it to twenty-seventh place…”

Marinette whistled. “Not bad for your first game. Especially after taking out a solo like Havoc.”

“No, it’s not.” He agreed, easily able to push his disappointment to the side. (After all, twenty seventh place is still twenty-five grand and a reentry next month… If I can keep this up I’ll have the money with eight months to spare.)

--- Future ---

“I’m telling you it’s not a big deal, Mia.” He told his sister wheeling her out from her follow-up at the hospital.

“Not a big deal? The Royale is inviting you back on a pro-contract!” His sister argued as lively as ever in-spite of her recent surgery. “Everyone else has to apply and do all those test things, but they’re asking for you to come back!”

“They’ve got a roster of like three hundred ‘pros’ as you call them, and I can confirm that the half the ones I’ve met are some of the least professional people out there.” He pointed out. “Besides like I said, I’m not even sure I want to compete again. We’ve got a decent enough nest egg set aside, a new house, and your medical bills all paid for. I don’t really need to go back for anything else.”

“You were in the top twenty percent last season!” Mia felt the need to remind him of-

“An inflated number caused by the twelve hundred contestants eliminated in their first game.” He reminded her in turn. “Even more so when you realize the retention rate of those ‘pros’ you applaud.”

“Ugh, you finished the season out even after paying my bills you can’t tell me you don’t like Reaper’s Royale!” His sister argued. “I mean do you realize the bragging rights I get because my big bro is a badass?”

“No idea.” He confessed. “And like I said, we needed a house instead of my crappy studio apartment… and also I’m not a badass.”

He felt that was underlined in how each game ended when his ass was kicked.

“You took out three solos last season!” Mia pointed out, using the detail that he was fairly certain was responsible for her glossing over said ass kickings.

Rolling his eyes, he said, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, Reapers Royale is a stupid overly violent game show.”

Mia narrowed her eyes. “A stupid overly violent game show that you’re really good at.”

“Doesn’t make it any less stupid.” He shrugged.

“Ugh, just you wait when Hector or Mari hear about this, they’ll both tell you how cool it really is! Just like everyone else will!” His sister told him, once more reminding him of the fact that since she’d held off on watching his first game until after it was over and he was safe, that she decided to watch said game with him.

Something that she told him while Hector had been inviting him and Mari to celebrate like he did with any team that made it over the fiftieth place marker.

Which in turn caused the entire situation to escalate into introductions between them and Mia, who hit it off well enough for the three to become something along the lines of pen pals. A form of escalation that seemed to occur with half the people he ended up on a team with somehow, resulting in him having a dozen… work associates spread out around the world.

“You’re being stupidly stubborn about this…” Mia whined.

“Seems to run in the family.” He agreed, earning a look from his sister.

Regardless, even if he didn’t join permanently it would be nice to shoot Havoc in the face again. Especially after he sent Mia that guitar signed ‘To my cutest fan.’ with his phone number underneath…

(Yeah, one more season can’t hurt.)