"Well?" Samantha sighed, gesturing for Reese to come up to the counter.

Reese contained his groan and brought his gear up. Samantha gestured with a bulky AR glove, registering the items in her computers system.

"The spine protector has a warranty on it you can adopt, still has six months left. It's an additional seven credits, do you want it?" Samantha asked.

Reese shook his head.

“I assume you’re registering this for Street Heat?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

Reese nodded.

Samantha scoffed and returned to her AR register. “Don’t talk much except when you’re being an asshole, huh?”

“I’m the asshole?” Reese declared, astounded.

Samantha smirked. “Well, that got you to say something, didn’t it?”

Reese glared down at the items on the counter. He didn’t have time for the mind games. “Whatever.”

Samantha sighed with exasperation. “Look, I wanted to say sorry for how I acted on the bus. I…”

Reese looked up.

She crossed her arms. “Well, I’ve got reasons, but I’m still sorry I was mean.”

It wasn’t really an apology, but he’d take it. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

"All right. It's thirty credits, how do you want to transfer?" she asked, then tapped away at the air with her AR register glove.

Two spinning icons appeared in Reese's view, one for direct transfer, and another for payment plans. Reese had the credits for both in his account, so he selected the first icon. The screen glitched, then went to a spinning icon.

“Sorry,” Samantha said gesturing to the clunky register style glove. “The system is old as balls.”

The door opened with a jingle, some relic bells of days past hanging over the door.

“Oh no,” Samantha said under her breath, then turned her head away.

Reese didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to get entangled in whatever drama was about to go down, but he couldn’t help it. His head seemed to turn of its own will, and Reese stared down the kid who walked through.

He was a shorter boy, with a cropped mohawk that had been dual colored black and red. He wore tight black jeans, and a black shirt ripped in strange places that looked more like it was for aesthetic purposes than rips the shirt had earned through wear. Reese turned back to the counter, avoiding the boy’s gaze.

“Hey babe, when do you get off? I’m taking you on a date." The boy with the short, cropped Mohawk asked as he approached the counter.

Samantha sighed. "Don't call me babe, Jerome, and no, you are not taking me on a date. Just, leave me alone, please.”

"Hey, it’s Jive, not Jerome. And what is this? I thought we were cool?" The guy asked not even sparing a glance at Reese.

The spinning circle of the initiated payment finally changed to a green checkmark with the text, “Processed.”

"Do you want a bag?" Samantha asked Reese, her teeth clenched and lips pulled into a frown.

Reese shook his head again. "No, I think I'll try them out."

When Reese stepped away, Jive stepped closer, leaning over the counter. This wasn’t any of Reese’s business, and he had new gear to practice with, so he sped off toward the door.

“Why are you always acting like we don’t have something special?” Jive asked.

“We don’t,” Samantha replied.

“What? I dyed half my hawk red for you!” Jive said, aghast.

“And I told you not to,” she said, unamused with his antics.

Reese stopped at the door. Despite his constant reminders to himself that it wasn’t his business, he looked back. Samantha was busying herself with something behind the counter, doing her best not to make eye contact with Jive.

“Just one date. We’re perfect together,” Jive pleaded.

Reese grumbled, then turned back for the counter. “She said she wasn’t interested, man.”

The mohawk turned before Jive did, and the colors of his digital avatar flared. “What’d you say to me?”

“I said exactly what she’d said, to leave her alone,” Reese replied. He was kicking himself for getting involved, but he couldn’t stand to see people push others around like that.

“You think you’re something that you’re not,” Jive said as he stopped just a few feet away from Reese. “She’s not a princess needing saving, and you’re not a hero, so just step off.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Reese blinked slowly in disbelief. Did Jive really think Reese was trying to win brownie points with Samantha? He’d much rather leave her to fend for herself after the way she’d treated him, but something about seeing her trapped here—she couldn’t very well leave her job to escape—made Reese incapable of backing down.

He decided he’d try to clarify, instead. “I’m trying to do you a favor. She’s made up her mind. Stop wasting your time on her.”

Jive puffed up his chest. “You think you know her? Who even are you, street rat?”

“Whatever.” Reese turned to leave. He was done with this.

Jive caught his arm. “We’re not done.”

Reese yanked his arm free. “What the hell, man. Keep your aggro in check.”

Jive gestured to the gloves and spine protector in Reese’s hands. “Let me guess, you think you’re going to ascend next month?”

Reese had had enough. He turned for the door. The bells jingled and Reese stepped up into the darkening street. Reese tucked his new gear behind his lower back, wedging it in place with his backpack. The bells over the door rang out again as someone followed him. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action.

“I challenge you to a one v one!” Jive yelled.

Reese stopped in his tracks. There was a moment of stillness, and then the notification request from the Street Heat app popped up in Reese’s AR goggles.

~[A Duel Has Been Declared!]~

Racer Jerome K. has challenged you to a one-on-one race!

[Accept—20RP Wager] [Decline—5RP Loss]

--

Reese’s muscles relaxed a hair. It was better than a brawl, but not ideal. A five Rank Point loss would mean that Reese couldn’t equip one of his new items, but if he wagered twenty and lost, he wouldn’t have enough to buy his Ascension Race pass.

Reese sighed. Why had he gotten involved?

He minimized the notification and turned around to face Jive. Reese didn't know what kind of racer this mohawked dickbag was, but given his height—and is very tight jeans—Reese figured he had a good chance of beating him. An extra twenty points would be enough to add a helmet to his ensemble if he could get his mom and dad to help him buy it. A good helmet would not only protect him like his mom wanted, but add significant stats to his avatar—something that could change the outcome of the Ascension Race.

"Well, are you chicken shit?" Jive asked with a smirk.

"No. I'm just thinking about how bad I'm gonna beat you." Reese said, returning the cocky smile.

Reese pulled off his backpack and set it down at his side, then pulled the spine protector onto his back, looping it through both arms.

Jive stammered. “Uh, not today. Tomorrow morning. I challenge you tomorrow morning!”

Reese cocked an eyebrow. “If you are challenging me, I get to set the terms. That’s the rules.” He stuffed his hands into the AR gloves and activated them. He reopened the duel prompt.

The shop bells jingled again. “You guys can’t fight here,” Samantha yelled from the doorway.

“We’re not fighting, we’re dueling.” Jive’s voice broke as he shouted. He leaned in and spoke lowly to Reese. “Seriously though, I have to go. I have to watch my baby sister.”

Reese stared at the prompt. “So, are you going to rescind the challenge?”

“No,” Jive declared indignantly. “Just don’t be an asshole. Race me tomorrow morning.”

Samantha stepped out of the doorway and approached the two. “Well, are you racing or not? I want to watch this pathetic display of a pissing contest.”

Reese frowned. He wasn’t comparing himself to Jive in any way. He didn’t care in the slightest what Jive or Samantha thought of him, either—though the Street Heat community’s opinion did matter to his Reputation. No, it wasn’t his pride or his ego that motivated Reese. He wanted those extra RP.

“Fine. I’ll do you this favor in exchange for one of my own. We up the RP wager to thirty.”

“Thirty!” Jive laughed at the offer. “Make it sixty then.”

“Oh, big man,” Samantha said sarcastically.

The prompt updated in Reese’s view. Sixty was a substantial number of points… If he lost, he might not be able to earn it all back in time. Waiting another year to ascend wouldn’t be the end of the world, but then he’d be a whole year behind HiddenHunter’s Race—Rank—Profit plan.

“Booock, bock bock bock!” Jive clucked at Reese.

“What are you, twelve?” Samantha asked Jive in disdain.

The “Decline” button pulsed in Reese’s vision. He didn’t want to deal with Jive’s shit attitude. He should just decline and make up the points in another Heat.

But an extra sixty would cover so many upgrades.

Reese lifted his hand and selected “Accept.” There was a positive beep in Reese’s AR earbud, and the next screen appeared to set the terms.

~[1:1 Duel Parameters]~

Difficulty Level: Medium Distance: 2 miles Time Limit: 20 minutes

Item Drops: OFF Challenge Spawns: OFF Monster Spawns: OFF

[Accept—Schedule] [Accept—Race Now] [Decline Duel—10RP]

--

The price of declining the duel doubled, sending Reese’s nerves jittering. He had to go all-in, now.

Reese glanced up at Jive. He seemed like the kind of guy to use up all his items instead of saving them. Adding drops would likely help Jive more than keeping it off would hurt Reese, so he didn’t change that setting. Having the drops turned off didn’t mean they couldn’t use what they loaded into their race inventory, and Reese had a lot of goodies stored up he was ready to bust out.

Challenge Spawns would offer good bonuses, but twenty minutes was a short race—there wouldn’t be time for it. He kept that setting off too.

Turning on Monster Spawns was an interesting idea to Reese. Having monsters to kill could help him score serious XP and RP. But on the flip side, the monsters could get in the way of Reese winning the duel overall, or worse, kill his avatar. That would end Reese’s hope of getting into the Ascension Race outright, so he kept that setting the same, then selected “Accept—Schedule.”

He set the time to seven in the morning the following day. Reese didn’t like the idea of getting up at six, but he couldn’t let Street Heat make him late to school; his mom would go ballistic.

“Seven AM? Are you kidding?” Jive complained.

Reese snapped. “It’s seven tomorrow morning, or it’s now.”

“Damn, dude, chill out. Seven then.”

Reese couldn’t believe this guy. He scheduled the duel and the window disappeared. Then, Reese set his alarm for five thirty, just to be sure. He wanted to squeeze in a warm up and breakfast first, bring his a-game, just in case Jive turned out to be some superstar, though he doubted it.

“Seven is a little early for me,” Samantha said with a sigh. “But I’ll catch you on Peep. What’s your handle?” she asked, looking at Reese.

Jive’s face turned red enough to match his mohawk.

Reese pulled up his Peep app and flicked his ID at Samantha with his glove.

“Got it.” She turned back for the shop.

“Hey, if I win, will you go on a date with me?” Jive asked, hopeful enthusiasm in his voice.

Samantha flipped him the bird without stopping, then went back in the shop.

“I’ll take that as maybe,” Jive uttered under his breath.

Reese wasn’t going to get entrenched any further into this drama. He pulled his backpack on and turned back for his house. He’d skip practice tonight in favor of an early bed-time.

“See you back here at seven tomorrow, chicken shit.” Jive called at Reese’s back.

He couldn’t wait to destroy this jerk.

It was dark when he got home, and he kept most of the lights off. He ate the cold tacos out of the tray, took a shower, and collapsed into bed. Reese’s mind raced as he stared at the blank ceiling. There were so many great things he could do with sixty extra RP, but what if he lost?

He sighed and turned over to get comfortable. He wasn’t going to lose.

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