Ok, so I exaggerated. Just a few of the members of the Round Table were applauding. And Bigwig definitely was not one of them, although I thought I detected a hint of respect in his sideways glance as I dared to approach the table in the center of the Rathskeller.

Still, it felt good to have a warm reception from such an elite group. And there was Rook, alive and well.

“Well, well, well. Look what the koshka dragged in.”

It was Apache. I hadn’t seen him in the fight, but he apparently heard about my minor role in it. Maybe he was an early casualty in that den of blood and fire.

“We were wondering when you might show up,” Bigwig snorted. “Viddying for a reward?”

I looked from member to member. None seemed worse for wear from the nasty encounter. If they had healed up, cleaned up, or just respawned I didn’t know. I briefly thought about the Volunteer I euthanized, whoever and wherever they were. And the other Volunteer who took a ride on the C-4 express. The Rathskeller was less crowded than usual.

▶ Did you get it? Did you kill the… what was it called again?

“The Huodou. Yeah, Rook got the kill shot.”

▶ Really?

I turned to Rook in surprise. She smirked and brushed a white dread off her face. I had said she didn’t look worse for wear, but being this close again I couldn’t help but notice the deep scarring across her face and upper arms. Although this seemed more a result of extensive cybernetic augmentation than injury. Her red eyes flickered as she appraised me.

Another Round Tabler, I think he must have been the one shooting from above during the raid, narrated the recent events of which I was not privy to, having been killed.

“It was epic. You should have seen her. You get up in the monster’s litso with your puny malenky knife, and the dram veshch sizes you up for lunch. Meanwhile, Rook cuts her own noga off to get out from under the rubble–slices the whole veshch right off, and activates her Hydra power to regrow the limb. Huodou didn’t know what tolchock it.”

I nodded appreciatively, mentally processing the slang. Amputated her own leg and still won the fight. Rook was one bad-arse woman.

▶ I’m just glad you’re okay, Rook.

I regretted saying it the instant the words left my mouth. I wasn’t really on a first name basis with this woman (although I guess she only had the one name). Bigwig frowned at me, and I suddenly felt acutely self-conscious of my feeble starter voice and my newbie status.

I tried to change the subject.

▶ The raid was a success?

Apache answered this time, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. I tried to keep my distance from his formidable spiked knuckles. Not sure why he couldn’t just keep those stored in his inventory. Part of his aesthetic.

“It was. The hot spot has been cleared. Mission accomplished–and a fragging nice Crypt haul!”

▶ What exactly does that mean? A hot spot.

“It’s like this, rookie. When a creature of higher rarity shows up, it attracts other creatures to the same area. Rare, Legendary, Mythical. Forget it. That Huodou set up shop in the warehouse district. Marked its territory. You viddied how many Hellhounds and Baskervilles were crawling around in there. Or maybe not–you missed most of the action.”

▶ I was… unavoidably detained. So if you take out the bigger threat, the hot spot is cleared? And the rarer the creature, the more dangerous it is.

“Yes and no. Just because a creature is of a more rare frequency does not always mean it’s more dangerous. It’s just more infrequent. An uncommon Cyclops can snap you in half like a twig. Rarity does not directly translate to more danger. But it often does. Whatever the case, these creatures are attracted to their own kind. We take out the bolshy baddiwad, and that district should stay peaceful for a nice long while.”

I was beginning to grasp some of the strategy here. Maybe the Round Table believed if they could target and eliminate the rarest frequency invasive entities throughout the metaverse, there would be a trickle down or ripple effect. Cascade might be the word. Like killing the queen of an insect hive. Was this how they would ‘win the game?’

Bigwig blew out a lungful of air and cracked his knuckles, tiring of the conversation. Apache took the hint and shut up, grabbing a nearby stein and taking a hearty swig of glowing blue liquid. Meanwhile, Rook just watched me in silence.

“Well, what do we think? Does this odin deserve the 5% discount?”

The other members rapped their knuckles on the table, voicing their agreement. Bigwig shrugged his broad shoulders.

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“Then who am I to stand in the way? Although to be honest for a minoota there I messel you might turn tail and run. But you stepped up. Showed some backbone, despite being a Xonny-come-lately.”

I mumbled a vague reply. But I was thankful to get that discount. I needed every advantage I could get at this point. Rook got up from where she had been casually leaning against the side of the table and wrapped her slender fingers around one of the straps of my ballistic vest.

“Follow me,” she said in her low, slick voice, giving my armor a tug.

Then she nodded over to the bartender. It was the enigmatic, smartly dressed female often on shift.

“Erwina, two tokens please.”

Erwina?

The bartender smiled that perfect white smile and slid two objects across the bar, which Rook scooped up. I recognized them as the tokens that had granted me access to the Schwarzmarkt. Apparently Round Table members didn’t need to bother with ordering mind erasers to gain admission. Another perk. I dutifully followed Rook to the back of the Rathskeller where she showed the tokens to the Volunteer on watch. We stepped through the secret door.

The Schwarzmarkt was deserted, the lights dim. No black market business. No caged death matches. We were alone. Did she want privacy?

▶ Where are you taking me?

“Just over here.”

Rook led me to a small table and pushed me down into a chair. She grabbed a stool from elsewhere and slid it close to me. Reaching onto her back, she pulled out a cable. On the other end was an asymmetrical syringe-like device I did not recognize. I tensed up.

“Relax, it’s a tattoo machine.”

▶ Tattoo?

“For your friends & family discount. 5% off at the Armory. You scan the ID on your right wrist for everything else, but a little smart ink on your left wrist will signify which Round Table benefits you are eligible for.”

▶ I see.

Benefits plural? I wondered if there was a discount for the Supply Depot too, or elsewhere, or even higher discount percentages I could earn.

I looked down and noticed for the first time that on Rook’s left wrist was a small, round tattoo. It was the size of a large coin. A perfect circle with a sizeable black bird in the center, with a distinctive beak.

▶ Is that a crow?

It was hard to read her expression with the pupil-less red eyes. But Rook pursed her ashen lips, holding the tattoo gun up in the air.

“It’s a rook, you nazz.”

▶ Oh. Of course. When I heard the name Rook, I was thinking about the chess piece for some reason. The castle. The chariot.

This elicited another slight smirk. She shook her head, her nest of dreads flowing with the movement.

“If you want to tap into our special benefits, you need this smart ink. Who knows, but if you keep going down this path, we can add more detail to the mark as you earn more privileges.”

So there were more benefits.

▶ Down which path?

“I know what you did. You sacrificed yourself. You bought me just the amount of time I needed to pivot, to find a way to close that bounty. I’m grateful, and I would be willing to nominate you for consideration for the Round Table if that was something you were interested in. Endorse your application process.”

▶ Really?

“You would have a long road ahead of you. Long. It won’t be easy. There is no guarantee we’d even have an open seat. But you showed real spirit out there. That’s an unusual thing in this place. Tell me, did it hurt? When the Huodou got you.”

I tried to remember. I had looked into its eyes. There was something there, some vision. Something discomfiting. When the moment of death came, it was over before I knew it.

▶ It happened so fast… there was something… Its eyes. Did you see anything when you looked in its eyes?

Rook was reflective for a moment. She slowly lowered the tattoo gun, resting her hand on the table. Eventually she answered in a quiet voice, although there was nobody else around to hear.

“What I saw was… beautiful.”

My jaw dropped open. Beautiful? That certainly was not my experience. Quite the opposite.

“Forget it. I hope you had a recent data backup. I know a lot of newbies wait too long between back ups. Losing too much will make you want to razrez quit. But of course, that’s impossible.”

▶ I lost a bunch of crystals. Some hellhound fragments, a few baskerville fragments. It could have been worse.

“Do you have a complete Hellhound data card?”

I shook my head.

“How many fragments short?”

▶ I’m at 4 out of 10.

Rook set the tattoo gun aside and I could tell she was accessing her menu. Soon, she produced a handful of sparkling crystalline items and shifting geometry.

“6 fragments. And 20 Crystals. That will be enough to forge and fuse a data card. That’s the best I can do. The Round Table frowns on sharing loot with non-members, and definitely never sharing any reward money. Also, we have our sponsorships to think about.”

▶ I see. Thank you.

With sincere gratitude, I accepted the gifts, feeling the pleasant sensation of the fragments and Crystals absorbing into my avatar.

Wait, did she say sponsorships?

She raised the tattoo gun once more, ready to get on with business.

“Just some light body modification. Won’t hurt… much. But you need to tell me what symbol you want. A magpie?”

I looked at Rook. This strong, chromed-up warrior. This elite bounty hunter. Out of my league or above my level in every way; I still did not fully understand the feelings she elicited from me.

And I remembered the first time I heard the Magpie moniker. It was when she chided me for taking the loot from Camel’s kill. Afterwards it had been hard to shake. Ironically or not, I realized now that a magpie was not unlike the black bird gracing her own wrist.