“Good Morning Jester!”

The chipper voice was strange to hear first thing in the morning. Jester groaned, doing his best to lift his head from the plush couch cushion. His body ached, and there was a consistent pressure that told him he needed to log out. Sooner rather than later.

“G’morning.” His words came out slurred, as he looked around the room.

From his quick examination of the room, it was clearly in that strange state of partially clean.

It was clear the party went late, and didn’t slow down much after he passed out. Empty glasses and pillows lay scattered around the room. A small mound of them sat up on blankets, as though people abandoned the couches and started miniature picnics on the floor.

There were a few signs of people other than him crashing out as well. Makeshifts beds made up of couch cushions and tablecloths filled a corner of the room. Though none were currently in use.

Banners still hung from the ceilings, and he noticed a few glasses were stuck in them. As though someone tried to play a makeshift game of darts. Which would explain the stains on the walls.

How drunk did people get?

If the rather bare looking bars around the room were any sign, incredibly. Unless that was Debrah looking out for her stock, which was a distinctly possible.

His vision blurred as he turned to look at Happy Hour on the other side of the room. The effect was distracting enough that he squeezed his eyes shut. Instead, he simply listened as Happy Hour moved around the room.

Her shoes were near silent on the plush carpet, but her cheerful humming let him know her exact location. It was a simple tune, one that had a repetitive rise and fall pattern. He knew almost immediately it was going to get stuck in his head.

When the feeling of disorientation finally subsided, he opened his eyes. A smile tugged at his face as he witnessed the sight before him. Happy Hour was in her element.

She reached up to grab a streamer. Her hand wrapped around it, and she gave a small twirl. The brightly colored paper twisted around her, flowing down her arm to act as a sleeve as her spin finished.

Happy Hour admired the colorful sleeve before shaking it off and into a nearby bin. One that was overflowing with a mixture of bottles, broken glass, and food wrappers. When she noticed him watching her, she waved.

Jester returned the gesture as he moved to a standing position. It made him dizzy once again, but he did his best to ignore it.

“How long was I out?”

As he asked, he wondered what effects this would have on his proper body. There was no chance he wouldn’t return to the pod with the world’s worst case of stiff limbs. Even with his bladder calling out in displeasure, he didn’t want to log out yet.

“Some of the night, most of the morning.” Happy Hour paused before clearing up one of the picnic set-ups. “Kylee and Tiffany made sure that no one disturbed your couch nap.”

“I should thank them.” Jester made a move to grab a nearby glass, but stopped when he saw Happy Hour’s unimpressed stare.

“Kylee was worried about your playtime.”

“Are you telling me to log off?”

The fact she’d even mentioned Kylee’s comment about his playtime was odd. But that, combined with the implicit command to log off, was weirder. Most NPCs didn’t worry about it. There wasn’t an in lore reason for people to vanish like they did, so it simply never came up.

“I’m suggesting you could use a break, Jester.” Happy Hour continued to clean, though she didn’t look away from her. “It can’t hurt. DollmakerMC slept in the game too. Not much good came from it.”

That was a shock. She’d never really mentioned her old creator much before. It wasn’t something they should have been able to do. Concerns about player privacy and all. Though he supposed it wasn’t anything too personal.

Still, it was something worth noting.

“Right, and I will. First though. Have you been cleaning all this time?”

Happy Hour let out a small laugh before shaking her head. Not that it stopped her from continuing to work.

“Oh no. The party finished at dawn, and even then I didn’t start right away.”

That caused Jester to frown for a minute.

“And what happened to the other attendants?”

He remembered them being around. Debrah’s Android servants who’d spent the night serving drinks and handing out snacks as required. They were efficient workers; he remembered. All of them were on top of making sure his glass was full, and handing out napkins as requested.

Happy Hour gave a small shrug before placing a rolled up banned against the wall.

“Debrah didn’t design them for cleaning. Their AI is pretty simple.”

Jester tried not to smirk at the smug edge to her voice as she said that. Thankfully, she didn’t notice as she continued speaking.

“Debrah offered me assistance before she retired for the night. I declined, however. It was enough to have a task while I watched over you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Jester found he meant it too. That someone, even his robot companion, staying by his side, was calming. He’d heard too many stories about what happened to those who slept in the game. Pranks were abound on the message boards, mostly on newer players.

Not that he suspected anyone would mess with him here. He doubted Debrah would stand for it. Especially not against the one who won the first round with an Android, of all things.

Still, he appreciated it all the same.

“Are you going to be ok here if I duck out for a bit?”

As sentimental as he felt, he needed to take care of some real word issues. His body insisting rather firmly.

However, guilt filled him at the idea of needing to leave Happy Hour alone here. Plus, he knew he should contact Kylee to let her know he was ok. A message he sent off as he waited for Happy Hour’s reply.

She smiled at him before turning away and resuming her work.

“Of course. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he hit the logout button and went to deal with his other issues.

***

He’d been right about the state of his being after he awoke. His legs and arms were screaming from essentially being locked in the same spot for over ten hours. They protested as he raced to the bathroom, but seemed to appreciate the hot water.

As his muscles relaxed, thoughts raced through his mind.

Sure, Happy Hour had managed the first round, and quite well, considering. However, the issues would be the rounds that came next. There was little chance their next set of opponents were going to have as simple of a gimmick, or attack pattern.

While he wasn’t fighting anything designed for the high tiers of tournaments, that didn’t mean he’d face nothing but brutes. Jester remembered the message Andry and the others sent him.

How fancier weapons appeared in The Junkyard. That would mean his opponents would pick up newer tools. Which meant any data he could get from the previous fights might be well out of date by the time it was useable.

Could he change his fighting style? He supposed it wasn’t impossible. It wasn’t like Happy Hour’s dance would be the same every time. However, she still was more limited in what she could use. Melee was her best bet, especially after that disaster with Old Reliable.

Unless he could find someone who would sell him a ranged module for cheap. But he doubted it, and Kylee didn’t dabble in the software side. Her opinion was in the camp of the more hardware, the better.

Not that he’d turn down anything she made, of course.

From outside his shower, his phone buzzed. He frowned. It was a weekend, and his boss wasn’t one to call in anyone if he could get away with it. With a sigh, he turned off the hot water, much to the annoyance of his protesting limbs.

His fingers scrambled with the sleek plastic casing before he could see the screen. A notification of an email. However, this wasn’t a work address. Oh, no. This came directly from RagerSystems, or their automated system anyway.

He leaned against the sink as he checked out the message.

[https://i.imgur.com/xKkyPvl.png]

Jester ignored the link as he closed out of the message.

The question of what they meant by ‘special rules’ tugged at his mind. Was this a way of getting people excited about the Final Cup? Or a way to weed out any of the lower rank competitors more quickly?

Either way, he’d need to be on his toes.

He dressed quickly and went to go eat. As he did, he launched the website, checking on his in-game messages.

Most were spam advertisements from the company. More sales for things he couldn’t afford. However, several names caught his eye.

The first of which was Tiffany. Her message contained a simple heading, promoting an event he’d almost completely forgotten about.

[https://i.imgur.com/M9K7EuM.png]

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Heat filled his cheeks as he stared at the message. He couldn’t believe he’d forget. Though, maybe he shouldn’t be so hard on himself. A lot had happened.

Jester shot back a date for nearer the end of the week, before checking the rest. One was from Kylee, a brief message checking in on him. Another from Madame Merriam, asking him to drop by to talk about clothing designs.

Andry was the last. His message was by far the shortest, and yet the most important.

[https://i.imgur.com/oN74Dy3.png]

That was it, but he supposed it didn’t need to be anything else. Dressed, showered and feeling actually awake, he moved back to get ready to log back in. There was still much to do, apparently.

It turned out the doll house didn’t like people trying to spawn into its VIP section.

When he materialized in the game, he found himself on the dance floor. It wasn’t empty, though it didn’t hold anywhere near the same numbers as it had the first night he’d been there. A fact he was grateful for. No need to start feeling that odd sense of claustrophobia again.

As he moved towards the stairs, shouts started up around him. At first, he flinched, until he listened to their tone. Excitement. Joy. Pride. All the things the people who shouted at him on the streets didn’t have.

Players stopped him a few times on his short walk. The first was by an old woman, whose Android was a very plain-looking man. He wore a business suit, and a fancy gold watch on his wrist. Otherwise, however, if not for the glassy eyes Jester wouldn’t have known.

“I’d like to say thank you,” the woman said.

Her voice creaked, and he wondered if he was as old as Mistletail was outside the game. Possibly. She at least didn’t have the same overpowering aura. Instead, when she smiled at him, it was truly kind. No hidden blade showing with it.

“No problem, ma’am. I’m glad to help.” Jester took off his top hat as he gave her a small bow.

“Oh, none of that, dear.” The old woman waved him off. “You keep winning you here. I’d quite like my dear husband to take me out somewhere other than here one of these days.”

“Your husband?” The words slipped out before he could stop himself.

His eyes ran over the Android once more, the older male smiling at him. If Jester guessed, the body looked like a typical human in its late 30s or maybe early 40s. Not that its age was the strange thing.

The company didn’t hide the fact that people used the brothels here. But a full on marriage? That he hadn’t heard of.

From the look on his face, he could tell that his thoughts were written all over his face. However, she didn’t look angry. Instead, she simply smiled and took the hand of the Android next to her.

“Harold was a good man. An avid gamer. Was ever since I met him.” She looked up at the Android, who, in response, smiled down at him. “He left me this set up when he passed away. Wrote me a note with the password and all the set-up instructions and all. Even why he gave me this avatar.”

“And why was that, ma’am?” Jester asked, before his rational brain caught up with him.

“Because he said that I’d only gotten more beautiful as I’d aged. And he wanted his duplicate to see what he saw.”

There was a faint red of her cheeks, but he realized it wasn’t from embarrassment.

Jester couldn’t help but smiling at the sight. It was adorable in its own way, if tinged with sorrow.

“He sounds like a good man, ma’am.”

“Oh, he was at that.” The old woman stepped to the side. “I’m sorry. I’m taking up far too much of your time with my ramblings.”

“Not at all, ma’am. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

She laughed. “No, no. Keep winning if you can. Show people this section of the game isn’t what people think it is.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” Jester saluted and moved onwards towards the stairs.

The guards let him up without issue, both standing aside without a word. He climbed to the top, glad to see Happy Hour still where he’d left her. She’d almost finished cleaning the entire room.

Without saying anything, he started helping. Together they finished putting the pillows back in place, and righting the couch someone had tipped over. When it was done, he dusted off his hands as she swayed and spun through the space.

“Ready to head out?” He asked.

Before Happy Hour could give a response, another voice cut through. He turned to see Debrah’s office door appear on the wall, the blonde faun looking at him.

“Oh, leaving without saying goodbye?”

“Never,” Jester lied.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected to see the woman today. She’d vanished during the party, and he’d expected her to be hard at work. Still, he could stop for a quick chat.

With a quick motion towards Happy Hour, he made his way into Debrah’s office.

***

Happy Hour followed him as he moved into Debrah’s office. It was much the same as he’d last seen it, except there was a new photo on the wall. Jester, holding a drink, while Happy Hour, Tiffany and Kylee curled up next to him.

He had the world’s smuggest grin on his face.

“I don’t remember that picture.” He frowned as he tried to recall.

“I’m not surprised. It took the three of them half an hour to wrangle you in for that shot.” Debrah let out an unladylike snort. “Kylee especially thought it was hilarious. They wanted copies.”

“And you let them do that to me?” He gave Happy Hour a disapproving look.

She simply grinned at him with her most impish smile.

“It was funny. Plus, it meant you were somewhere we could monitor you for a bit. You are a very talkative drunk.”

“I—” Jester cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Don’t do this again.”

“Of course, Jester. As you say.”

“Anyway, Jester, I called you in here for a reason.” Debrah moved and sat down. “The first, of course, to congratulate you once more on your win.”

“And, of course, thank you again.” Jester sat in one of the opposite chairs, Happy Hour retreating off to the side.

“Still, you know this isn’t going to get easier, don’t you?” Her tone held no sign of any joking. “People have seen what you can do. We won’t be able to impress them with the same stunt again.”

“I know,” Jester said. “It’s why I’ve commissioned some new gear and equipment. I need to go talk to Madame Merriam about designs soon.”

“That’s good. But it won’t be enough.” Debrah tapped the table. “Did you hear about the special rule set?”

“I got the email.”

“Then you know they’re moving away from one-on-one cage matches, as it were. At least for some of them. Are you ready to run an obstacle course? Maybe fight off some NPC robots they release in with you?”

Jester paused, thinking. Was he? Could he be? There was no way they’d end up going for something that weird, right?

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “No way to know. I’ve never seen those types of events before.”

“Neither have I,” Debrah admitted. “Still, it’s clear they’re trying to shake the game up.”

That turned his thoughts to the weapons appearing in The Junkyard. “True.”

“So it might be better to be prepared.” She shrugged. “Not that I have an insider scoop or anything. You understand.”

Jester nodded, understanding blossoming. With a statement like that, there was no way she didn’t know something. The question was, if she did how, and how good was the information?

“Well,” He started trying to pick his words. “You know I’m not big into the combat scene. What would you recommend?”

“Me?” She smiled and sat back. “I’ve found people like a faster fight. You’ve seen the speed based robots leaving trails behind them? They are always a delight to watch.”

“I see. I’m sure Kylee can think of something.”

“I’m sure she can. Are you seeing her next?” Debrah asked.

“No, I have some Scrapper business to take care of.”

He didn’t like the way she looked when he said the word Scrapper, but she didn’t comment about it.

“I see. Well, when you see her. Tell her hi from me. I’m sure if she’s willing, I might send some business her way. Especially if you do well.”

“Of course,” Jester said as he rose. “Happy Hour, are you ready?”

“Yes, Jester.”

“In that case, I expect to see you here soon for your next victory party.” Debrah stood as well before raising a delicate finger. “Oh, and before I forget. Dam13n should know when the next series of fights are if you want to take part. We’d love to have you, and free drinks for the winner.”

She looked over at the wall and smirked.

“I’m sure we can even give Tiffany the night off for it.”

“I’ll think about it.” Was all he said before he moved off.

It was time to go see Mistletail.

***

The Scrappers Union was a hive of activity.

People ran about every which way, shouting names and locations at each other. From the few snippets he could parse, at least two gangs started an all-out brawl in The Junkyards. Neither Kangarookie nor Rust_Wolf being part of it, to his relief.

It was quite the contrast when he reached the door for Mistletail’s office.

No one ran here, instead talking in hushed whispers as they moved about. All of them clutched paperwork and stared at the door he was about to enter. When he grasped the doorknob, a few people looked away.

He shook his head. Whatever this was couldn’t be so bad.

As he moved in, he felt the sheer presence of the woman sitting behind the desk.

She was alone, and didn’t look up when he entered.

“Would you have a seat, Jester?”

“Thank you. You wanted to see me, Ma’am?” He kept his voice low, something stopping him from raising his voice.

The same sensation one got as a child playing hide and seek, or when wandering through a hospital at night. One that warned him of danger if they caught him doing anything else.

“I did. I’m glad Andry’s message got through to you.”

Whatever force invaded the room, it didn’t seem to affect her. She spoke in her normal tones, though she didn’t look up.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the goings-on with the weapons?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Mistletail sighed. “I’m getting too old for these shenanigans. Which is one reason we called you here. That, and to congratulate you on your win.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She waved away his comment and continued.

“We hoped you would help us. Well, the others were. I know you will. You’ve always been good to me, Jester. Even if you were a little lax in paying your fees, some weeks.”

Her smile was warm, but still she didn’t look up.

“We’d like you to become the public face of the Scrappers, as it were.”

He blinked. Where had that come from?

“Ma’am? We aren’t an official group.”

“I know that.” She shook her head and placed another paper on top of an already sizable stack. “Still, we feel we need some recognition. This new wave of junked items has people excited. We’ve seen people building robots themselves, and really leaning into the game in a way they couldn’t before.”

Now she looked up at him. Her gaze wasn’t harsh. In fact, he thought he saw excitement there.

“And I, for one, would like to see that continue. This won’t continue when the next patch hits. We both know that. All this is to justify getting people in for this new galactic update. However, I want to show them they shouldn’t ignore our existence. That we, in our own way, can support the game as well. Will you help?”

“That depends,” Jester said. “What would you need me to do?”

Mistletail smiled.

“First off, we want to make a post on the forums that you are officially a part of the Scrapper’s union. Maybe along with some of the video Andry took of your win. Second, maybe some branding?”

That didn’t surprise him.

“That might be tricky. I already have a sponsor. Multiple, in fact.”

“The dollhouse correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Hmm,” Mistletail hummed to herself. “Maybe we can do something for Happy Hour then?”

“She does too. Madame Merriam’s clothes house.”

“Drat.” Mistletail seemed to slump. “Jile will be disappointed.”

Jester wasn’t sure how best to help. He didn’t want to get rid of his nice clothes, but he also didn’t want to disappoint Mistletail.

“Maybe we could do some kind of pin or arm band or something?” He asked. “We have the hand sign already as well.”

Mistletail seemed to mull that over.

“That could work. I’ll get Jile on it. You know he’s always been pushing for our branding. Thank you for doing this Jester. I know you’re busy.”

“Always moving me,” Jester said. “Is there anything else, Ma’am?”

“No, no, that was all. I’ll call you when Jile gets back to me. That will be all.”

With the clear dismissal, he left the office. Happy Hour stayed a step behind him until they’d made their way past all the people and back out onto the street.

“Where to now, Jester?” She asked.

Jester felt his stomach churn, but he knew where he needed to go. This was going to be important.

“Kylee. I think we’re long overdue for a talk.”

He shot her a quick message, getting back an instant reply.

So she wasn’t busy with a client then. That was good.

“Are we getting me a new weapon?” Happy Hour moved alongside him now.

“Maybe. Mostly, I just need to speak to her. Some personal stuff.”

“I see.” Happy Hour was quiet for a few seconds before blinking. “Jester?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s Whiskers?”