Joe was staring at his character sheet as he walked out of the red door and back into his motel room. Of course, it disappeared as he stepped over the threshold. It was pretty much burned into his head anyway. He held the door open for his little cohorts, half-listening as their verbal banter turned into animal chittering as they also changed going across the threshold. He popped a lovely sugar-dusted donut into his mouth even as he broke open a bag of pet treats and tossed it on their nest.
Actor Character Sheet
Name: Joe Cockran Denphry
Level: 5 Exp: 304/1000
CB – 17
DQ – 1
TA – 1
SS – 4
ER – 2
Skills: Acting (2), Misbehaving (3), Stealing (3), Hiding (2), Misdirection (3)
Joe wondered what skills he’d bought for them. It wasn’t like they could tell him now. They looked the same. He popped the top of a plastic bottle of soda as he watched them. The most noticeable effect seemed to be that they liked him more now. He’d increased their talent and skills. For that matter, he’d increased his own too, thanks to Grace’s training. His acting skill had gone from 1 to 2. How could that manifest? He’d read the explanations, but they were so generic. He was just hoping that training his acting skill paid off more than spending that hour playing video games. What he needed now was one quiet day on set.
In looking at the explanations, Joe had found out that each AI had their own character sheets. They levelled just like he did. By buying the talent upgrade, he’d made it so that they would get an extra two free points per level. He had figured that one would have the most benefit for everyone and it wasn’t retroactive, so he’d bought it first to get the most out of it.
By upgrading their skills, Joe had opened their possible skill attainment to the next level. There was a master list of skills that every AI could get from performing actions. That list was broken down into 10 levels where the most amazing skills were at level 10 and the most basic were at level 1. Joe had opened the list up so that their skills could manifest from both the first and second levels of it. His gaze slid to the charging gaming systems and he sighed. He’d have to content himself with junk food for breakfast as a compromise for the day. It was the only down time he figured he’d get.
The upgrade Joe was looking forward to the most was the special effects studio. He popped the top off another tube of chips and took a swig of sugary soda. He’d bought it in this first round because of how it would level up with the rest of them. At level one, it was almost useless, but he was guaranteed at least two special effects per “episode” whatever that meant. Joe knew that they were making hour-long episodes out of the “best” of what happened. He’d experienced what the production crew could do, which was mostly slow motion and fast forward. Special effects were supposed to be more like explosions, onscreen magical effects, and specialized makeup. It wasn’t good for much at level one, but it got xp for every effect and earned skills for impressive stuff.
Joe had just popped the last donut from the pack into his mouth when the on-air light popped on, and no sooner had it done so than he heard pounding on his door. He nearly jumped two feet off his bed, fumbling the wrapper so that it ended up in a messy heap on the floor. He was torn between picking up the wrapper so he wouldn’t look like a slob and lunging for the door. When the door pounded again, hard enough to rattle dust down from the popcorn ceiling of his room, he chose the door, only pausing long enough to kick the donut wrapper under the bed. He mumbled a quick apology to housekeeping.
“What?!” Joe swung the door open to see Jean’s impatient hands-on-hips and Tami’s hopeful expression.
“We got a job and I thought that you would be able to tag along?” Tami was saying over Jean’s scowl.
“What kind of job?” Joe asked, and his eyes panned the scene in front of him. Two gals, living on plastic that was probably fake, in an old-fashioned black car, who rush off to jobs. “Wait! Are you two sisters?”
“Step,” Jean put in, gruffly, and a picture was forming a knot in Joe's stomach.
“Not that we bother with the step part of the sisters,” Tami rushed on. “I don’t want to cut this short, but we’re on the clock and have to be on the job site in less time than it normally takes even Jean to skirt through morning traffic.”
And Joe realized he’d fallen for a gender change and brand swap. Seriously? He’d just spent running xp on these gals. They were going to level up. Did he want to fight a wendigo? Did they have a special effects budget for that? He blinked. When had he started thinking like that?
“What’s the job?” Joe asked, and then could have smacked himself.
“We need to be at the Opera Hotel in fifteen minutes,” Jean growled out.
“It’d just be nice to have a little extra help on the prep line,” Tami was saying over Jean’s scowling. “I’ll show you the ropes and you’ll catch up in no time. How are you with knives?”
“I know where to point the wrong end of a knife,” Joe found himself saying, and he nearly swallowed his own tongue as he did.
“Fine,” Jean was saying as she swung past Joe to sweep his stash of stuff into his bags, plugs whipping out of sockets and into the gym bag. “You take those guys and we’re on the road in thirty seconds.”
“You never told me their names,” Tami asked, picking them up very gently.
“The cat is Hex,” Joe told her with an ease that had to come from increased stats. “The darker ferret is Kodo and the other is Podo. You got them okay?”
“Absolutely!” and Tami beamed like Joe had given her diamonds. “Into the sidecar?” Hex darted up Tami’s arm and onto her shoulder like she’d been trained to do it. The ferret brother and sister wound into her arms like she was their second-best friend.
“Yeah,” Joe said, shrugging into his leather jacket over his jeans one and stuffing his feet into his sneakers without even untying and tying the shoelaces. His hand through his hair was all that was going to happen for that. Then again, in the dressing room, Jean had applied enough hair spray that Joe almost regretted fingers that should have come away sticky and didn’t. Ah, the magic of AI TV. His hair looked great. Hadn’t that required some upgrade that he hadn’t chosen?
“I got your bags,” Jean said, tossing her keycard at Joe. What she meant was that she’d stuffed everything into bags willy-nilly and he’d be hard-pressed to find anything ever again. “You check us out.”
“Yep,” Joe quipped, miraculously catching the keycard and heading to the door like they did this every day.
As he headed to the motel office to check out, he noted that Jean had already been packed and loaded. Tami was uselessly still cooing at the pets, and he wondered at their relationship.
“Checking out so early?” came the hoarse voice of the coughing morning person with a gust of smoke.
“Yeah,” he said, watching as Jean tossed half his bags in her back seat so as not to disturb Tami and the animals. It was cute until she whacked Tami upside the back of the head with the gym bag. He finished signing papers that disappeared back into the cave and ambled to the sisters who were now arguing lightly. The argument didn’t stop Tami from tossing his other bag into the trunk of the Hoverhog. They were still fussing at each other as they all got on the road.
Joe, with a full tank of electric in his hog, following the Remmington sisters to their first job together. Hex was curled up asleep on the oversized gym bag and Podo and Kodo were peeking up over the front dash of the sidecar, protected from the wind by its windshield. All Joe had was a switchblade and a large wrench for weapons, but he had a back pocket of one-liners to say for the day. That would have to get him through.
When they pulled up to the posh hotel thirteen harrowing minutes of fast forward later, Joe pulled into the employee parking lot next to Jean as Tami got out of her seat and popped the trunk. The hotel was over ten stories high and had the feel of the old south meets Vegas. Even in the back, near the dumpsters and handicapped parking, there were majestic white columns that clashed with the Vegas-like tinted windows that reflected the half-up sun. LED lights that were supposed to look like neon wrapped the windows with the glitz that belied the old southern brick façade and Opera, spelled backward from this side of the hotel, in a flowing script that gave Joe a foreboding chill for some reason he couldn’t name yet.
Joe lifted the still sleeping Hex into the collar of his jean jacket and let the ferrets into the backpack that he had to empty into his trunk. The day was warming, and he figured that if they were working inside the hotel, it would be too warm for his leather jacket. He left it and the gym back in the trunk of his sidecar, but he tucked the wrench into a back pocket of his jeans and slid his jeans jacket over it. His pack had very little in it except for a package of treats and Podo and Kodo.
“Here,” Tami pushed a rolled-up packet of leather with canvas ties into Joe's hands. “If anyone asks, you’re with me.”
“Just go with whatever Tami says, and you’ll do just fine,” Jean advised, slamming the trunk with a glare at Tami, who just rolled her eyes back. Joe had only gotten a glimpse of some very suspicious items in that trunk that had not been there the first time Jean had been unloading bags with him. Tarp and shovels didn’t bode well for his future, but he pretended like he hadn’t seen a thing.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Relax,” Tami told Jean. “This way you’re free to go case the place so our night job goes as easy as pie.”
“You’re too trusting,” Jean muttered, but in the next minute she was gone, striding toward a back entrance.
Quest: Establish a Cover
Work with Tam Remmington at her day job so you’re all ready for the night job.
Rewards: 400 xp
Accept Y/N?
Of course, Joe accepted and sure enough, there was his proof that the World AI was interested in that upgrade enough to ensure he had a quick chance to get it. This was him working toward mutually assured progression.
“Come on,” Tami linked an arm through Joe's and steered him toward another back door past the dumpsters. She gave Hex a scritch and scrunched her nose at Kodo and Podo who chittered at her charmingly. “Now you three are going to have to stay hidden and keep your noses out of anything we don’t specifically give to you. Do you think you can do that?”
“They know how to behave, don’t you?” Joe pretended he was sure of that fact. His beast had been in full control since he’d figured out that he was going on a job with the Remmington sisters. If some supernatural disasters was imminent, Joe knew he’d need that beast fully on. Hex gave a purr before retreating into the thickness of Joe's collar, her purple eyes almost mystically disappearing in there. Joe was just counting on his plot armor at this point. Podo and Kodo ducked into their nest in his backpack. He gave a tiny sigh of relief.
“They are so talented,” Tami blinked blue eyes at Joe that crinkled with fun at the edges. Was that a reference to whatever talent they’d gotten? Joe didn’t think so because they had already shown signs of being able to follow directions before, but this did feel just a bit more trained than before so maybe. “Almost like they’re little familiars,” and Tami giggled. “You aren’t a witch or warlock, are you?”
“Maybe,” Joe deadpanned with only the hint of a smirk, “but I’m on your side so you’re safe.”
Tami giggled. Yeah, Joe had put a lot of points in Clickbait and now he sounded like a commercial spokesperson. His smirk slipped as they slid into a bustling kitchen and Tami’s demeanor changed from coy to pure authority, something Joe had never imagined on the girl who’d been a sucker for his pets. He’d been attracted to her before, but as she shouldered on authority, he felt even more, though he wasn’t going to admit any of that. If they were there to clear the drains, Joe was all set with that wrench, except that it was probably only useful on cars. He tried putting on a stern look to wait for his cue. He felt like he probably looked constipated.
The kitchen was populated with four young men who were lazily almost doing the jobs of dishwasher, vegetable cutter, saucier, and loafer. The glitter of stainless-steel counters, bins, and appliances vied with the white of uniforms and was broken up with the red tile of the floor with little black bits here and there with the burner covers and cast iron. The only other surface color was the tan of wooden cutting surfaces, and pale faces that jerked to attention at Tami’s voice snapping over the clamor like a drill sergeant.
“Chef in the kitchen,” Tami clipped out, making Joe's knees feel a little weak. “What’s the meaning of this mess?”
“Who the hell are you?” drawled out the lazy one with one shoulder on the wall by the swinging door that Joe assumed led into a dining room.
“Your celebrity chef, and if you don’t have a mop in your hand in the next two seconds, I’m going to make Ramsey look like a pussy cat,” Tami barked out at the guy and if they’d had a level two special effects trailer, there would have been fire effects coming out of her eyes and mouth.
“I’m no janitor,” the guy pushed back indignantly. “I’m the assistant chef and I’m in charge here until Anton gets in, so you can just march your—”
“Not anymore, you’re not. Get out of my kitchen!” Tami snarled at him dangerously, and Joe stood a little straighter, his bulk a shadow for her tiny form. “I’m Tam Remmington and your chef is out sick while I take over.”
“No way,” the guy was slow to let go of his bravado. There were some whispers on the line between the saucier and the vegetable cutter.
“One more word out of your mouth and I’ll make sure your name is mud in all the wrong circles, Mr. Tomlin,” Tami growled slowly, her eyes glued to his in arrogant challenge. Who was this woman?
“Mop, not mope,” Joe's Clickbait-enhanced-self barked at the now-cowed man.
“This is my second,” Tami didn’t miss a beat, now ignoring the guy reaching for the mop with a surly lip that was, at least, closed. “His name is Joe, and if he says something, you act like it came from me, got it?”
She cast a stern glance at the rest of the room, handing Joe an apron off the wall and taking one for herself as she spoke in slightly kinder tones to the workers who had decided to actually work. “Get those vegetable bins filled in the next ten minutes and I want a white sauce and chicken stock started in less than that time. I don’t know why there’s still a stack of dishes, but if you want to keep your job, it better be clear by the time I get out of the freezer with my menu and that’s not going to take me as long as Tomlin took just to waste my time.” Silence reigned for a second, but in the next, there were pans clacking and knives thumping on wood.
“Let’s get it moving people,” Joe echoed her authority as Tami ducked into the freezer and pantries without a backward glance. He hung up his pack on the peg where his apron had come from, making sure that the ferrets could work their way out if they needed to do so.
“The Remmington?” the dishwasher dared to whisper to Joe as he passed him on his way to the pantry after Tami.
“Is there another?” Joe temporized, unrolling his leatherbound pack and finding the most beautiful set of high-end kitchen knives he’d ever seen, even on the shopping channel. They had jet-black blades that shimmered with a holographic image of Tami’s face and the words “Steel Chef” emblazoned on the handles in what looked like real gold.
“Lamb, duck, steak is a little low for my taste,” Tami was muttering to herself as Joe joined her in the meat locker, which had one side as frozen and the other as refrigerated in a very unreal way. “There had better be a delivery of seafood on the way, or I’m going to skin that assistant chef.”
“What do you want me to do?” Joe groped for words that found their way out of his mouth without his normal worry.
Quest: Find the Fish.
Tami needs seafood to perform to expectations for the dinner service tonight. Find it.
Rewards: 100 xp
Accept Y/N?
“I’ve got to have two chef’s specials, but I want three for a nice tasting plate,” Tami was saying more to herself than to Joe. “I’m going to need you to follow me around and make sure what I say needs to be done gets done and if anyone’s overwhelmed at their station, help them out. Nudge me if it’s too much for you to handle.” Her tone toward Joe was nothing like it had been outside, and she was hyper-focused on an electronic notepad. “Can you find out if we have seafood coming in? I’m not seeing the order, but then again Anton wasn’t expecting to get sick today, so...”
“You got it,” Joe assured her and slipped back out to the kitchen just as the murmurs died down and Mop-moper took his elbow off the end of the mop to pretend he was actually using it.
“Seafood!” Joe snapped, clipping Mop-moper upside the back of the head.
“What about it?” He pretended to misunderstand Joe, and Joe knew he was going to be the ants at his picnic.
Joe took Mop-moper by the scruff of his white uniform and back of his pants and pushed him toward the back door, his heels kicking to try to reach the floor he wasn’t mopping.
“It’s late this morning,” he started babbling everything Joe needed to know. “The number’s on the chef’s desk. I can find it.”
“You’re more of a pest than a help, and we can do just fine without you,” Joe gave him a shove. “Come back tomorrow to see if your chef will let you back in the kitchen after Remmington gives her report to him.”
“But,” he stammered, his heels skittering back onto the blacktop of the parking lot. “It’s not my fault!”
“If I see your face again today, I’ll call security,” Joe brandished roll of leather-wrapped knives under Mop-moper’s nose to let him know what he considered security for the kitchen today. The words, “It’s not my fault” resonated uncomfortably in Joe's head, but he ignored them.
Mop-moper tore his apron off over his head and threw it to the ground in a fit of temper. “The union will hear about this! I have friends—”
That would have been a better threat if the seafood truck hadn’t pulled up and rolled over the apron and cut off the rant halfway through. Joe snickered with his arms over his chest. He knew about Steel Chef, and if Tami had a set of knives from the show, it meant that she’d beaten one of the best chefs in the US in a televised competition. Joe was betting that her friends were higher than Mop-moper's friends in whatever agency he was going to complain to.
“Where do you want it?” the truck driver asked, his tone harried as he rolled up the back of his truck.
“Meet me inside with it and I’ll check it over,” Joe called out over the sound of a hand truck being loaded and a screaming ex-assistant chef stomping away.
Joe sauntered back into the kitchen to pick up Mop-moper’s mop and toss it back into the bucket it had come from. He stuck his head into the freezer to let Tami know that seafood had just showed up.
“We’re one sous-chef short,” Joe let her know, fighting back nerves. “He opted to throw a fit instead of mopping the floor.”
“His attitude would cost me more time than it saves,” Tam waved his concern off flippantly. “Thanks.” And with that she was back to scribbling and counting.
“Fish is here,” he let himself fall into the roll. That was what the acting lessons were for, right?
“Check it,” she paused to point a pencil at him.
“Already on it,” he smiled to her and the smile he got back reminded him more of the girl with Hex than the one churning through this kitchen like it was a war zone.
“I knew I liked you for a reason,” she quipped, her eyes sparkling. “Jean owes me five bucks. Should have trusted my instincts.” Joe dipped his head and ducked out of the freezer.
He had a moment as the guy wheeled in the seafood to reflect on how he’d been able to get with the program more today than he’d felt the day before. Was his acting skill filling in the skillset he’d need to do this job? Could two lousy points in it make him better at acting in a way that let him move with the script rather than against it. Joe guessed he’d find out when he needed to chop something.
Viewers – 1088
Crates thumped at Joe's feet, and he tore off lids to examine the goods. Two crates of lobsters that were still moving dared him to move them so that he could get to the bottom crates. Joe wasn’t a trusting person. He used the edges of his apron to guard his hands as he quickly moved the crates and popped open the next one that was packed in ice and some lovely tuna on top and some less lovely salmon below it. It wasn’t sushi grade, but it was fine for cooking, so Joe let it go, especially with the way the truck driver was hustling to the door. It was the last crate of crab that had Joe glad he’d hurried.
“Hold it!” Joe called out to the driver who tried to pretend he didn’t hear him as the door closed behind him.
Joe picked up the crate of what was advertised on the side of that crate as live crab. The crabs inside the crate were too busy eating their two dead brethren to snap at Joe's hands as he marched that crate right out where the truck was starting up, and the driver was trying to give Joe a sly wave. The sly slipped off his face as Joe planted himself in front of his truck. The driver had the nerve to put it in reverse, and Joe flung the box at the windshield. Joe had watched every episode of Ramsey. He knew what was expected of him, even if his poor quivering old-me ego was hiding his eyes behind his hands with a pathetic whimper.
Exp +100 (Quest: More Viewers!! Quest Complete!)
“What the hell!” the driver leaned out his window to swear at Joe around the cracked windshield complete with some scuttling crabs that looked a little dazed.
“What can I say?” Joe shrugged his shoulders with a glare that gave lie to his nonchalant tone. “Dead seafood in a fresh seafood crate makes a guy a little crabby!”
Joe knew he’d flubbed the one-liner. It was too complicated, too long. His talent let him know that he’d been just a tad off.
“You’re crazy!” The driver didn’t wait to give Joe the crab they’d ordered. He finished backing out, leaving Joe standing next to two live, if dazed, crabs and a crumpled apron with tire tread on it where the driver had peeled out backwards.
Exp +75 (Find the Fish. Quest Partially Complete!)