Too much time getting lost forced Jester to message Dam13n back to get directions.

It turned out to be a small building along the border of Geartown and The Outskirts. Little stood out about the building.

The designers had gone with a typical modern brick construction. A smoke stack sticking out of the roof, and a metal sign declaring its name bolted to the front.

Few players walked past, this area being fairly industrial. Those that did, didn’t spare it a second glance. This didn’t surprise Jester. Melters weren’t a commonly used type of building.

Their original purpose was to help players gather raw materials. One could bring in scrap metal or robot bits and have it melted down. Once that process was complete, they could take it to a smithy.

There, they could have it turned into a bar of scrap metal that could have enhanced or enchanted.

However, players found an issue with them almost immediately. The melting process took forever. That, combined with the need to run around the city due to building placement, killed the project before it got off the ground.

In the next update, NPC vendors were selling bars to any shopkeeper players who wanted them. RagerSystems didn’t take any of the melters out of the game, though. Instead, they now sat as a shrine to a failed update.

Jester tried his hand at a one on the off chance the Develops stealth patched a fix. By the time he’d sold one scrap bar, however, half the day was gone. With only enough to buy one beer, he decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Plus, fixing and painting robopets was more fun.

He pushed his way through the iron door and stepped inside. A dwarf stood there, its long beard soot grey and dressed in dirty work clothes. The NPC squinted at him before speaking in a high-pitched squeak of a voice.

“Oh? And what do you want? Got some metal for me?”

Jester ignored him, instead looking around the small room. No one else was here. There was a big vat in the center over a fire. A chair for players to wait, and no windows. It was a dingy room, and not for the first time made him wonder what kind of people RagerSystems hired for design.

He messaged Dam13n, telling him he’d arrived. A response came back fast that the younger man was on his way. Great, that didn’t help him now. Happy Hour moved in behind him, closing the door with a solid thump.

“Jester, why are we here?”

“Ahh, come to see your Android for scrap. I can make a lot from her.” The dwarf said, slapping its knee. “We can make a killing.”

“How dare you!” Happy Hour stared at the NPC, her face an impassive mask. At odds with the venom in her words. “Jester would never do such a thing.”

“She’s not for scrapping,” he agreed. “Though has anyone tried to offer you anything recently?”

The NPC stared at him with a blank expression, and Jester sighed.

“Have you done any work in the past day or so?”

With a mental sigh, he watched as the dwarf nodded. “Aye, someone came in with a robopet yesterday.”

Happy Hour threw a sharp look at Jester, who felt the stomach fall.

“Not a cat, by any chance?”

“Aye.” The NPC nodded. “Though they changed their mind at the last second. AZ pity. High-quality metal that. Don’t get to work that often.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jester mumbled as Happy Hour clapped her hands.

“Whiskers is still safe.”

“But missing,” he pointed out. “I’m assuming, sir, that you can’t give us any clues about who it was?”

“No can do,” the dwarf said. “They were wearing a mask. Not much I can say about that.”

“And a suit?” Jester asked, a hunch forming.

“Aye.”

“Masky.” Happy Hour looked at Jester, her impassive expression slipping. “I thought they worked for Kylee?”

“Someone like that works for the highest bidder. The real question is, why did they steal Whiskers?”

She didn’t have an answer for that, and neither did he. Jester checked his messages again, but no more updates from Dam13n. A shame, he really wanted to ask how they’d found this place.

While they waited, he shot a message to Kylee. His excitement rose when he got an immediate response. However, when he checked it, he noticed it was her normal busy call me later form.

With a curse, he settled back to wait.

It was five minutes, but with the constant interruptions by the NPC, it felt far longer. At irregular intervals, the dwarf would ask if they wanted work done. When they said no, the NPC would simply stay silent until the next time it asked.

The entire affair was annoying enough to tempt Jester to wait outside. He’d even turned to Happy Hour to express the idea when the door opened.

Dam13n walked through, and he looked different. His brown hair was flat instead of spiked. His t-shirts and jeans looked cheaper and more worn. Even his nose stud was a smaller, less obvious variety.

It was the most series that he’d ever look.

He couldn’t say the young man’s appearance didn’t immediately set him on edge.

“Hey man,” Dam13n said, his voice low. “I’m sorry about Whiskers.”

“Yeah, me too. At least we have a lead.”

“What, Masky?” Damn13n shook his head. “I wish. They’ve vanished.”

“Got any idea on why they tried to melt down Whiskers? Or stole him in the first place?” Jester tried not to fidget as he asked the question. Though he threw a stink eye towards the NPC, who once again interrupted.

“Yeah man, I do. It’s the other reason I wanted to talk here.” Dam13n looked uncomfortable. “I can’t find him, but I have been chasing leads. Whispers, you know? People like to talk to me. This is about you and entering The Cups.”

“No surprises there.” Jester wasn’t lying when he said it. “Lexington already tried to sabotage me before. Why not again?”

“This wasn’t that guy.”

“Then who?”

“No idea. Some rich fuckers. Man, players are throwing money around to see you fail. Bets being placed against you, that kind of thing. This is like the Heather fight, but way bigger.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think we’ll find Whiskers any time soon, man.”

Happy Hour spoke up then. Her tone sounding determined.

“Jester, doesn’t Kylee know Masky?”

“She does,” Jester agreed. “Or at least had his contact information. But that implies he uses the same method of contact each time.”

“Shouldn’t we at least go and ask her?” Happy Hour motioned towards the door. “We were on the way to her warehouse, anyway. She wanted those ores.”

“I suppose.” Jester shrugged. “It can’t hurt. Dam13n?”

“Sure man, I’ll come.”

Jester marched at the heads of the group as they exited the building. He sent a quick message to Kylee, telling her he was on his way. Once more, all he received was the busy response. That was fine. It probably meant she was hard at work designing Happy Hour’s weapon.

“Jester?” Happy Hour asked as they moved into the more populated sections of Geartown.

“Yes, Happy Hour?”

“Are we going to stop fighting?”

The question made him pause, but only for a second. Then he shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on his destination.

“No, no, we are not. I thought you enjoyed having such a big audience?”

“I do. However, if we put Whiskers in danger…”

She sounded sad at the prospect. Though if it was about the robopet or the opportunity, he wasn’t sure.

“Then we do.” He looked at Happy Hour then, trying to show her his most serious expression. “I know you care about Whiskers. So do I. But more people are counting on us now. Or at least, we owe favors, too. If we can get him back, we will. But not fighting isn’t an option.”

She mirrored his expression as she gave him an overly large nod.

“You’re right, Jester. When is our next fight?”

“Oh man, it’s soon, isn’t it?” Dam13n asked. “Like, really soon?”

“Sooner than I’d like.” Jester picked up his pace at those words. “So I suppose we’ll have to get moving.”

“To Kylee!” Happy Hour raised her arm. “And then to victory.”

All of them laughed at the sheer exuberance of the statement, ignoring the stares they received along the way.

***

Kylee didn’t answer the door when the group arrived back at the warehouse.

Dread filled him at that, even as the door swung open at his touch. No one was there to greet them as they stepped inside. With a simple look, Jester felt his breath hitch.

It all seemed normal. The machines working, the shelves stacked, the boxes spread out. However, there was an atmosphere to the air. Heavy and pressing. Enough so that he didn’t want to speak. From the look on Dam13n’s face, he felt the same way.

He couldn’t tell if Happy Hour felt the same, but she said nothing either way. All of them stepped lightly. Though with her ballet shoes, she moved the most silent of them all. Her footsteps light as she crept across the room right at Jester’s side.

From where he stood, he could see Lugathin near the back. Its shell was dark, none of the typical lights adorning the egg like body. If it was completely off or in a sleep mode, he didn’t know.

At least it wasn’t attacking them. A genuine concern if Kylee set it to defend the premises. That was a good sign. It meant she was unlikely to be in any danger. Even if she wasn’t inside.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Dam13n looked around the shelves they passed with interest. The middle section containing all kinds of fascinating sights. More than once, his action forced Jester to yank his hand from touching the shelves.

No matter what was happening, if Dam13n messed up Kylee’s management system, there would be hell to pay.

If she didn’t ban him for life, there at least would be a lot of grumbling. Neither were outcomes Jester wanted to deal with.

Now that they’d come this far into the warehouse with no signs of anyone else, he felt confident enough to call out.

“Kylee, are you there?”

The clattering of metal was his answer, coming from just ahead where he knew she kept the diagnostic workbench. He picked up his pace, hoping for something simple. Dam13n jogged behind him as Happy Hour sprang forward, steps still light as she landed on her toes.

As he turned the corner, relief filled him.

He saw Kylee sprawled on the floor, her red hair falling over her shoulders and hiding some of the worst jumpsuit stains. Multiple different metal rods surrounded her. All different sizes and shapes laying across one another as she glared up at him.

Her eyes swiftly moved to Dam13n, who stopped short.

“What in tarnation, Jester?” Her fake accent was well in place. “Couldn’t you tell I was busy? Why did you have to sneak about like that?”

“You weren’t answering your messages. We thought something happened to you,” He answered, as he held a hand out to help her out.

With a grumble she accepted it and pulled herself up. She wiped her hands on her jumpsuit as she looked at him.

“I was busy. Had a meeting. Did you get the ores?” The anger in her voice seemed a little overblown for this kind of thing.

“We did.” Jester pulled the ores out of his inventory. After he deposited them onto the indicated table, he turned to her. “I have an important question for you?”

“What?”

She snapped the word out as she examined the ores. Her hands running over each item with practiced ease. From his spot, he could see her shoulders relax. If there was one thing that he’d seen that calmed his friend down, it was work.

So, whatever was bothering her couldn’t be too bad.

“We found out that Masky took Whiskers. Or someone paid him too? Either or. Do you know how we can contact him?”

Kylee paused long enough, he seriously considered lag a potential cause. Before he could check out his menus, she swore. It was loud, colorful, and full of southern sounding swears that he was sure she made up.

When she settled, she gripped the ore in her hands. Hard enough that if this place was real, it would have dug into her skin.

“He wasn’t lying then. Git.”

“Who wasn’t?”

Jester studied her, making note of the way she slumped. Tired and defeated. The last time he’d seen that was after a particularly awful business deal. Her percentage had almost not been worth the time she’d spent.

“Masky came to visit me. Not unusual, he was off loading an order. However, this time he came bearing a message along with my stock. Told me to tell you he had Whiskers. Wanted you to head to that café where you first met up after the next Frankenstein Cup match.”

Her words were spat out more than spoked as she collected the poles off the floor. All of them moved to help her, though Happy Hour grabbed the most.

When they finished setting them on the bench next to the blacksmithing equipment and ores, he asked his next question.

“Did he say anything else?”

“No. Refused to answer any more of my questions, either.” She shrugged. “Which doesn’t surprise me.”

“What can you tell us about him?” Dam13n moved forward. “I’ve been coming up blanks. People know the name, but not much about the man.”

“Apart from the fact he’s expensive, discreet and doesn’t care much about what jobs he takes on? No, not really.” The words seemed to annoy her. “And I’ve worked with him for a while. He’s pretty light on conversation.”

Jester nodded. He remembered their meeting. Some chit-chat, but no big personal details.

“How do you contact him?” Dam13n pressed on. “That was another thing I couldn’t find.”

“He’s more of an ‘If you know a guy’ kinda deal? Most of us got his info on someone trustworthy who already knew him.” She ran a hand through her hair. “He does good work for all the city’s shopkeepers.”

A look of excitement came over Dam13n’s face, but the hand she raised quashed it.

“Don’t bother. They won’t sell him out. He’s too useful, and to be honest, this isn’t big enough. No offense, Jester.”

“None taken, I get it.”

He’d heard her talk often enough about getting supplies delivered to know she was telling the truth. It really shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. RagerSystems made the system relatively simple.

The company resupplied NPC vendors every so often, and would sell to any player shopkeeper or crafter in bulk.

However, it meant a player would need to run about the city to find what they needed. Which would cost them time, and show anyone else what they were trying to buy. A trustworthy player that could act as transport would be a godsend.

No crafter or shop keeper would want their ideas on builds or potential desirable items stolen. There was a profit in robot building, after all. The big names paid large amounts of credits to get an edge over their opponents.

One missing robopet wouldn’t be worth throwing that all away. No matter how much the kitten meant to him.

“So what now, man?” Dam13n turned to Jester, even as he gave a shrug. “We do what they say?”

Jester shrugged right back. What else was there to do?

“Do we have a choice?”

As she stepped forward, Happy Hour chimed in. “I don’t believe we do. However, I don’t like being backed into a corner like this.”

“Me neither,” Jester admitted. “But at least we know now we can focus on the upcoming fight.”

With that, he motioned to the gear on the table. “Which means we turn to Kylee. What’s the plan with all this?”

“Right, the plan.” She dropped the accent, turning serious. “You still want a spear, correct?”

Happy Hour nodded with enthusiasm.

“Good. In that case, try to see what pole you like the best. Then we’ll worry about the spear tip.”

With a snapped off salute, Happy Hour turned to the table. She ran her metallic fingers over the collections of poles. She stopped on a few, but always moved on eventually. Then she paused at one near the end.

Jester watched her pull it up from the table, slamming the butt against the ground.

It was thin, and almost as tall as she was. A silver sheen coated it, and it looked light in her arms. Though that didn’t say much.

“Try it out,” Jester encouraged.

Happy Hour beamed and moved into an empty space. There she held it firmly in her grip, its end pressed against the ground. She did a kick bob, before kicking up one leg and dipping forward. That done, she skipped around it. The scene reminding him of a child running around a maypole.

With her experiments done, Happy Hour smiled at Kylee.

“This will do nicely.”

“Glad you like it.” Kylee turned to Jester. “This will take a day or two. You got other things to do?”

“We need to see Madame Merriam.” He gestured towards the door. “Send me a message when it’s done?”

“You got it Jester.”

With that, he left her to the work.

***

Madame Merriam greeted them as soon as the door opened.

“Oh good, you’re here. I was hoping you’d be dropping by. Come now. There is much to do.”

When her gaze fell on Dam13n, she looked disgusted.

“Boy, what have you done to yourself?”

“I’ve been schmoozing to get intel,” Dam13n said, sounding proud.

“In that outfit? What were you looking for, the best places to get roughed up?” She raised a hand when he tried to respond. “No, not interested. Today isn’t about you. Happy Hour, front and center, please.”

Happy Hour moved without needing to be told twice. In a single leap, she was on top of one of the floating platforms. It didn’t so much as wobble underneath her. Madame Merriam’s smile oozed satisfaction.

“Now dear, have you talked your boy out of his ridiculous bee costume idea? I have a lovely swimsuit design that would fit you perfectly. Really give the crowd a show, eh?”

Happy Hour looked towards Jester, her red eyes wide as they could go. He got the hint and stepped forward.

“We’re both sure about the bee costume idea,” he said hurriedly. “And we talked about it, and she made me promise nothing that someone could define as skimpy.”

“Hmmph,” Madame Merriam snorted. “A shame. Such lovely craftsmen ship, and you want to cover it up. Clothes can do so much to enhance a person's beauty.”

“Is that not true for something less revealing?” Happy Hour said, her smile locked into position. “Why not one of those old ballgowns? They made the wearer regal in every aspect.”

There was a pause as Madame Merriam tapped a finger to her painted lips. Dam13n threw a look at Jester, who gave the smallest of nods. If there were questions, that was what they were going with.

“Regal. Bee. Queen Bee. Yes!”

With a clap of her hands, the floating platforms moved to the sides of the room. This left Happy Hour alone, with not a thing surrounding her.

“Have you discussed with Kylee what weapon you’ll be using?” She didn’t look at Happy Hour as she spoke. Her eyes unfocused as she focused on her UI.

“A spear.”

“A warrior’s weapon.” Madame Merriam’s words came out in a whisper. “Our queen of the bees on the front line. An attack at a gala, perhaps? One she knew was coming. So the outfit would need to be fashionable and functional. Yes. This I can do.”

Jester and Dam13n both jumped in unison as she stopped whispering.

“Boy.”

“Yes, Ma’am?” Jester said.

“Tell me. How much like a bee do you want her to look like?”

“Whatever is easier?”

That answer seemed like the correct one, as he noticed the gleam in her eye. She looked ecstatic as she circled around Happy Hour. A finger poking and prodding anytime she stopped.

Happy Hour, for her part, stood tall and silent at the center of the platform. Though her face showed a hint of confusion.

“No mask, I think. We want them to see your face. To know it’s you. The Android. No. The champion!” Madame Merriam raised a hand into the air. “You shall stride to battle. A queen of the hive. Everyone shall know your outfit and its designer!”

Jester watched Dam13n as he moved closer to his side. He whispered his words, though it didn’t seem like that was needed.

“Is she always like this?”

“You’ve known her longer than I have.”

“Yeah man. But that’s for when Debrah asks me to run to her for repairs. Not when she’s designing. This is kinda scary.”

“I trust she knows what she’s doing.”

Jester watched as Madame Merriam pulled a sketchpad from her inventory. Her hands flew across the page as she continued to circle around Happy Hour. More than once, she crumbled up a piece before starting on a new one.

She didn’t seem to notice anyone else was in the room with her. It wasn’t until Dam13n let out a cough that she appeared to wake up.

“Boys, what are you still doing here?”

“We were waiting to see the design you went with?” Jester tried his best not to look at the floor.

Her gaze was withering. “Did you think it was going to be done today?”

“Maybe?” he felt stupid even as he answered the question.

“Of course it won’t, boy. This is the preliminary idea session. Happy Hour has acted as a perfect muse. A warrior queen. Ingenious, simply ingenious. Even Debrah wouldn’t refuse this, I’m sure.”

Madame Merriam paused.

“Did I thank you for that win?”

“I believe so, Ma’am.”

“Well. Good. Now off you two hop. Wait outside, and I’ll send her out to you in an hour or so.”

“I’d rather not be separated from Jester for that long,” Happy Hour said. “It’s nice having him around.”

“Fine. Fine.” Madame Merriam snapped her fingers at Dam13n. “You, boy, are not needed. Goodbye.”

“See ya Jester.” Da13m gave him a mocking wave as he walked away. “Have fun with this.”

“Wait. Before you go, can you do me a favor?” Jester got the words out quickly, not really wanting the other man to go. This was one of those situation he felt could go on for a while.

“Sure I have some game time left,” Dam13n said. “What do you need?”

“Can you tell Tiffany I said hi if you see her?”

Dam13n snorted.

“Sure, I’ll tell her. Though I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a message. Your date is soon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Before the next match.”

“Well, I’ll swing by the Dollhouse then. Have fun Jester.”

With that, he was gone.

“Now that he’s out of the way,” Madame Merriam said with a giddy tone to her voice. “Tell me Jester. What do you know about the weapon?”

“It’s silver in terms of the pole. Other than that, not much.”

“Tch. Typical boys. Never getting the details.” She waved him off. “Fine, I can work with silver. Maybe. Do you think it’ll clash with the yellow and black aesthetic?”

“I don’t think so,” Happy Hour supplied. “Not if we use it sparingly.”

“I suppose dear.” Madame Merriam’s attention turned back to her sketchpad.

As it did, Jester found a comfortable place to sit and wait this out. There was a chair in the room, one he suspected was for this very purpose.

Thoughts filled his mind as he did. Ideas about what kind of outfit he’d like to see. If they should try to come up with some kind of strategy for the next match. Not that there was a lot of that he could do.

Happy Hour fought autonomously, and thus would react to battle conditions as they came up.

He’d checked the upcoming roster, but they hadn’t colored in the names. All of them were on blank spaces, not allowing him to know who he was facing.

That meant recon was out. A shame. It was what had won him his last match, in a way. He pulled the sheet back out to stare at it.

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

The fact they weren’t colored in was odd. For a second he considered if that meant it might be a free for all. However, that made little sense.

Still, something about that seemed off.

As he listened to Madame Merriam mutter, and Happy Hour suggests things when asked, he stewed.

Kylee would finish her weapon in a day or two, and he hoped Madame Merriam would do the same. Then it was up to Happy Hour to make do with what she had. All he could do was hope.