“Jester, come look at this?”

He did his best not to roll his eyes as he heard Happy Hour’s voice. She’d been calling him over to see things for the past week now. Most of which was to inform him of the various virus-riddled pieces of equipment.

Sometimes she’d call him to point out a part buried in the mound that she found interesting. All turned out to be various Android only pieces.

Not exactly things that would sell for huge amounts.

Though, he supposed someone at the Dollhouse might be interested. So he told her to keep searching. Who knew what might turn up?

He’d messaged Dam13n about it. To gauge any potential interests in his finds. The response he got was lukewarm. Most players who visited Debrah’s place of work used their own supplies.

They were obsessed with keeping things up to date.

Some changing designs after less than a week from a patch drop. Even if it was nothing but internal components. Any that might be interested also wouldn’t the paying highly.

Jester explained that to Happy Hour, but that didn’t stop her from pointing them out. Once or twice, he even picked some of the bigger pieces up.

Kylee would be happy to turn them into scrap for various smaller projects.

This time, however, he had to admit she’d found a good one.

A torso stuck out of one mound. Intact, although badly scuffed. Two rows of spines ran along the back, vanishing into the junk. A few patches of the leather hide showed that it used to be a blue-grey color. He couldn’t help but whistle.

“Nice find, Happy Hour.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you, Jester. I remember you and Kylee being excited when you talked about dinosaurs before.”

“It was one of her favorite updates. Any signs of the virus?”

“No, no such signs.”

He knew the answer before she said it. If there were, she’d be backing away from the piece as she’d done so many times before. Jester once asked what it was like to stand near one. Her response was not what he was expecting.

“Like my head buzzes. As though something is telling me to wait for an activation? I don’t know what it means.”

He gave the torso a tug and frowned when it wouldn’t budge. A shove to the side did nothing, either. That was annoying.

“Care to help?” Jester looked to Happy Hour, who nodded.

“Of course, Jester. I’d be happy to.”

Together, they tugged and shoved at the piece. Eventually, trying to dig it out. They pulled broken wheels and chains off the pile. Followed swiftly by a bucket filled with gears and a badly cracked motorcycle helmet.

It took longer than he would have liked, but with less piled on and a sharp tug, it popped out.

The dinosaur’s torso landed with a thud. A smile crossed his face as he saw the box appear for it.

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

That wasn’t a huge resale value, but he knew he could get it. No matter the update, dinosaurs were always popular. Especially with the younger crowd that was always aging in to being able to play. After all, who didn’t want a pet dinosaur?

“Are we done for the day, Jester?”

He looked towards the torso before putting in into his inventory.

“Yeah, plus, we need to go see Madame Merriam to finish your outfit.”

It took willpower not to laugh as he’d said it. Kylee’s spear was done. A simple weapon that Happy Hour was more than pleased with. However, the outfit was taking longer.

One to two days was apparently just for the initial mock up. The proof of concept. For the last couple of weeks, the final design was coming together. One that she promised they’d get to see before the start of the bout.

Not that it stopped Madame Merriam from calling them in as often as possible for fittings.

It was like she expected Happy Hour to change suddenly. Still, she wasn’t charging them for it. So he couldn’t exactly complain.

“Do you think she’ll let you in this time?” Happy Hour waited for him to put away the torso before falling in at his shoulder.

“Not a chance.” Jester laughed as he moved. “The way she’s acting, you’d think it was a wedding dress.”

“I promised you before it’s not.” Happy Hour’s voice didn’t waver as she said those words, though they made him snort.

“Better not be. That’s the last thing we need.”

Jester kept his eyes peeled as they walked. He still remembered Andry talking about the fact the gangs were getting more aggressive about territory. Even with the virus making the items almost worthless, people were collecting them at an alarming rate.

Any player worth their salt could smell an upcoming event. All wanted to get ahead of The Developers’ plans if they could.

He hadn’t collected a single bit, and not purely because Happy Hour hated the stuff. There was something off about it. The whole thing reeked of a bad idea. Others agreed, but more didn’t. They’d have to see who was right when it launched.

Nobody attacked them on their way out, though he heard a fight break out in the distance. A tinny roar followed by something crashing into metal.

Happy Hour shifted to be closer to him, even as he picked up his pace. He wanted to be done and over with this.

Other sounds started then.

People shouting. Distant at first, then drawing closer. He ran through the mounds with Happy Hour on his heels.

“This is our turf!”

Jester didn’t recognize the voice, but it made him stop. With a quick hand motion, he crouched next to an overturned crate.

“Yeah? Well, make me Scrapper.”

That voice again wasn’t one that he recognized. Though he could tell from the tone it wasn’t from around here. There wasn’t a real dialect in terms of game locations. However, the Geartown residents always sounded slightly more snooty.

That tone filled this player’s voice.

“Why are you even here? You have plenty of stores to go to,” the first voice shouted, accompanied by the sound of something heavy sliding down a mound of junk.

A sound Jester knew intimately.

“Because this is the best place to get event gear.”

With a motion for Happy Hour to stay crouched, he looked around the box. It took some shifting, but eventually the two men came into view.

One he noticed, dressed in crappy clothes, with a mop of messy red hair. He was facing away from Jester, looking up at the other man.

They dressed like a Geartown resident. Not much more than a t-shirt and jeans, but both showed signs of being event pieces.

The soft drink logos made sure of that.

They held a blank expression, as they looked down at the man on the ground. One of someone starting at an insect, or a bit of roadkill. An inconvenience in the path, and nothing more.

Beside the fancier man was a robot. A unit that floated off the ground on what looking like a metal spike. It was boxy, with two arms that ended in claws and a face that changed on a screen in the middle.

Not a combat model, then. As it didn’t display any open weapons. Still, it was more than enough to push around a player without one.

“Then take what you want and go.” The man on the ground was trying to scramble to his feet. “Let me get back to searching.”

“No, you might take something I want. Get lost.”

“This is my spot.”

“What part of this makes you think I care?”

The robot at the man’s side beeped. Annoyance filled Jester enough that he stood up. Happy Hour followed suit, and together they moved out of hiding. His original plan was to avoid the pair. Let them have it out.

However, he didn’t like the man’s tone. Plus, he was part of the Scrappers Union. If he didn’t do something, Andry would have his head.

“Any chance you would piss off?” Jester asked, as Happy Hour paused her work beside him. “Seems hardly fair to bully someone without a robot.”

“Wait, aren’t you the guy who won the Frankenstein cup?” The man looked down at him. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Sure am. If you want an autograph, I can give you one if you leave.”

“Really? Cool.”

Once more, their robot beeped as they slid down the pile. “I’m KenNorth. The fight was cool.”

“You got a pen and paper?”

“Sure do!”

Jester watched the man pulled a small notebook out of his inventory. On it were a group of names, some of which he recognized.

“How may signatures do you have?”

“From the Frankenstein Cup? You’d be the first. But I have most from the Technomancer Cup.”

“Impressive.” With quick motions, Jester scribbled in his name. “Done. Will you stop whatever this is now?”

KenNorth appeared to think it over, before he shrugged and put his notepad away.

“Fine, I wasn’t finding anything good, anyway. This stuff is all crap. Cool to meet someone famous out here. See ya.”

“Wait. One question before you go,” Jester called out after him. “How many others are doing what you are?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” KenNorth shrugged. “A lot.”

With a resigned sigh, Jester started out of The Junkyard once more.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

He’d have to go talk to Mistletail. With luck, Madame Merriam wouldn’t be too mad.

***

“He isn’t the first I’ve heard about coming in.”

Mistletail looked towards the door as Happy Hour returned with a tray bearing tea cups and a steaming teapot in hand. With a nod of thanks, she waited for Happy Hour to take her place near the side of the room before continuing.

“We’ve been hearing reports of it being an issue. Andry has been out patrolling, but he can’t get them all.” She took a sip from her cup. “I appreciate you coming to see me, though.”

“No problem, ma’am.” Jester took a moment to sample his own tea. It was good. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Are you still willing to brand yourself as one of ours?” Mistletail looked up at him, eyes set with determination. “As your little autograph display proved. You’re making a name for yourself now. One that we can use.”

“Of course I am. Did Jile come up with something workable?”

She nodded and gestured towards Happy Hour. “Would you do me a favor, dear?”

“Yes Ma’am. How can I be of assistance?” Happy Hour’s curtsy was quick and neat.

It was clear Mistletail noticed, as she smiled in approval.

“Good. Thank you dear. Jile should be hanging around the front. Lucy is working, and he’s nothing if not a flirt. Please grab him for me?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

As soon as Happy Hour left, Jester could feel the tension fill the room. Mistletail was eyeing him. Any trace of her normal grandmotherly aura was gone. She looked irritated. Though he couldn’t imagine what he would have done to deserve such a stare.

“This whole thing is annoying, Jester.”

“Ma’am?”

“I mean this virus situation.” She sighed and took another sip of her drink. “Previously, the split was fine. The Geartown players stayed out of our way, and we took care of our own. Now?”

Another sip of tea followed another sigh.

“Now they’re here breaking up the tentative peace we’ve achieved. It’s a nuisance.”

“I can see that,” Jester said. “How can I help?”

“Win.” It wasn’t said as an answer. It was an order. “Then keep winning. Show them we aren’t to be messed with. When is your next match?”

“Two days from now.”

“Good. Are you prepared?” Mistletail appeared to peer through him as she asked.

“As much as I can be, Ma’am.”

It was the truth, or as much as it could be for him. Without knowing exactly how Happy Hour would react to the new outfit, it was hard to tell. Plus, he didn’t have any insider knowledge of who he would be fighting.

There was still no sign of who his opponents were to be.

“Though I have a question. Do you recognize any of these names?”

She looked through the list, her brow furrowed.

“None of ours. I know that for certain.”

“Pity. In that case, I’m running in blind.”

“Aren’t we all?” She smiled at that, but not a comforting smile. “Aren’t we all?”

They were once again interrupted by Happy Hour returning. Behind her was a tall man, with a purple Afro and a single earring in his left ear. Today’s version was a small robotic hand giving everyone the finger hanging from a chain. Jester stifled a laugh.

Mistletail threw it a disgusted glance before she gestured for Jile to take a seat.

“Have you got it?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Jile said, his voice as chill as Jester had ever heard.

“Then?” Mistletail looked like she wanted to throw something at the man, without ever raising a hand.

Instead of saying anything else, he instead pulled a small black band out of his inventory. The word Scavenger ran along it in bright red letters.

“This work?”

Jester looked at the band, and then down at his own outfit. It would clash, but he supposed it would work. He spoke up before Mistletail voiced her clear displeasure at the design.

“Can I try it on?”

“Go for it.”

Jile handed it over without issue, watching carefully as Jester slipped it on. As soon as it reached his biceps, the cloth tightened, holding firm. Not too tight as to be uncomfortable, but enough he’d never need to worry about it slipping.

“Fits well.”

“Doesn’t it? I wanted to go with something wild, you know? Wings or something like a bird. Mistletail said no before I even get the harness finished.”

“He would have looked ridiculous.” Mistletail gripped her teacup, and Jester swore he could see her aged hands turn white. “We aren’t a joke.”

“Nah, Mistletail. It would have been like a bird of prey? A vulture or something. Would have been awesome. Cut a real silhouette. We could have put them on t-shirts.” His voice almost contained something akin to excitement when she spoke.

Hand gestures accompanied every word, and he even sat up a touch straighter.

For a moment Jester tried to imagine that. To stand on stage after a victory with massive wings. He was more glad than anything that Mistletail held veto powers. Not that Jile was a bad designer. Far from it. His skills and speed kept him on even with his attitude.

Still, someone needed to rein the man in. His ideas and ambition often outweighed his common sense.

From the corner of his eye, he saw what could only have been a thoughtful look on Happy Hour’s face. She was staring at Jile, as though wanting to ask more about this wing idea. Jester decided he needed to change the subject. The last thing he needed was for Happy Hour to have Jile work on them for her. Madame Merriam would be mad enough at them for being late.

If they started using other designers? Well, he didn’t want to be put in a tutu anytime soon.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mistletail?”

“In fact, there is.” She drank the rest of her tea before continuing. A tactic he knew was to leave him in suspense. “Now you wear our new mark. Would you mind wandering around the city? Show off a little.”

Happy Hour raised a hand at that. When Mistletail nodded towards her, she cleared her throat.

“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like us to go, ma’am?”

“Anywhere with people. Maybe hit a club. Browse the markets. I don’t mind.”

“We won’t let you down, ma’am.” Happy Hour saluted her. “Whatever we can do to help.”

“Thank you dear, and you Jester? Any last questions?”

“No ma’am. Though I should inform you I’ve been strong-armed into attending a livestream tomorrow.” He tried not to wince at the sudden focus she now displayed.

“Which one?”

“BikerBrawler13, ma’am.”

“Ahh yes. The spat you had in the city streets with the tall one.” Mistletail tapped her finger against the desk. “That will do nicely. Though I still want you out and about.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“That will be all. Thank you both.”

With that, they left. Jile on their heels. He was quiet until they reached the door, when he called out to them. When Jester turned around, he saw a hand reached out towards him.

“I don’t know if she congratulated you on your win. But all of us here are rooting for you.” Jile smiled as he spoke. “Good luck, keep it up.”

Jester took his hand and gave it a solid shake. “I’ll do my best.”

“We know. It’s why we’re rooting for you. If you need any more outfit work done. Call. Won’t even charge you.”

Jester turned as Jile walked away. His walk to Madame Merriam should count towards completing his task for Mistletail. Plus, there was a good chance he’d be standing outside the store for quite a while.

***

Jester couldn’t deny the fact that he was bored.

Within minutes of Madame Merriam finishing her tirade against him being late, she booted him outside. Now he stood outside. Back to the building as he watched people move around him.

It made him wonder how much waiting he’d had to do ever since he got Happy Hour. All the other players seemed to move with speed. Always having somewhere to go. Was he doing something wrong? Perhaps. Though, in truth, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After all, that would mean not having Happy Hour.

Only during these downtimes did he allow himself to dwell on that. To think about all the different things that he’d seen. That he’d experience. While some of it was bad. The harassment and jail cell coming to mind.

All the rest was great? He closed his eyes and positioned himself so that his arm band was visible. Jester let his mind drift. It conjured up all the places that he’d been.

The inside of the dollhouse. Once disorienting. Now a place of one of his greatest victories and most exciting celebrations.

Himself and Happy Hour running across the rooftops as BikerBrawler13’s groupies chased them. Though he hadn’t let himself think about it at the time, he loved the view. A fact compounded as he stood on Kylee’s roof.

When he got to see the inside of Madame Merriam’s. How she’s created the floating platform to display all her wares. Beautiful pieces that showed her expert craftsmen ship.

A laugh escaped him as he thought of Happy Hour being dressed up to fit the inside of the Vampire club. All those avatars getting to wear an aesthetic they enjoyed.

A fist slammed into his stomach.

Jester coughed, as a reaction more than anything else. When he opened his eyes, no one was there. Not even a smaller avatar who may have jumped. Snickers were surrounding him, however. Players of all shapes and smiles, trying to hide their amusement.

“Where’s your Dolly?” someone called out. “Didn’t get invited to her tea party?”

“You’re going to get wrecked in the next fight!” Another voice called.

“Destroyed,” a third called.

“Down with the Dollfuckers!”

A small group took that up. They dressed in an assortment of various outfits. No real theme among them. Men and women, all of them chanting at his face. Jester did his best to ignore them.

No one in the crowd spoke up in his defense. Though they grumbled about the group blocking the road. They pushed more than one to the side. It didn’t stop their chant.

“Hey Dollfucker?” This came from a woman. She wore a sundress with flowers stitched to the front. They bloomed and died in a constant cycle. “Where is she?”

When Jester ignored them, more shouted questions of a similar ilk.

“Where is the Doll?”

“Did you hide her in your inventory?”

“Maybe she’s inside with a client?” That last one came from a player who looked like a grey-skinned troll.

Laughs rippled from the group. None from the crowd, Jester noticed. Even they didn’t seem on board with whatever this was going to be. A few looked uncomfortable with the whole thing. Not enough to step in.

“Come on, Dollfucker!” the flower girl called again. “We want to see her?”

“Yeah!” the troll joined in. “Maybe we can have a match.”

Jester gave a mental sigh. They wouldn’t leave. For a moment, he considered going inside. However, he didn’t want them harassing Madame Merriam. She was working for free. No need to give her reasons to stop.

“She’s busy. If you want to fight, you should have joined a cup.”

“We couldn’t!” The flower girl jabbed a finger at him. “Too many others wanted to take you down.”

“Yeah,” the troll snickered. “Plenty of high rollers wanted to crush you.”

“Dude, shut up,” said a green-haired elf.

“You shut up.” The troll shoved his friend. “Who cares? We all know this game isn’t about skill or whatever. It’s about cash. They have it and he doesn’t. End of story.”

That caught Jester’s attention. He needed to keep the troll talking. The others now looked uncomfortable.

“Oh?” He called to the troll. “You’re saying your friends needed to pay to beat a Dollfucker? That’s sad.”

“Hey, shut up!” The troll called back. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you’re hanging around talking to me,” Jester shot back. “Hoping for a doll of your own? Maybe those rich friends will buy you one. Let me guess, your type? Small and delicate?”

He nodded towards the green-haired elf. “Though it looks like you have one of those already.”

“You’re going to get crushed!” yelled the elf.

“But not by you, right?” Jester did his best to show off his armband on the off chance the group was streaming. He hoped they weren’t. Debrah wouldn’t appreciate him saying things like that while wearing her logo.

“No, but we’ll be there to watch.” The troll smacked a fist into an open hand.

“Sure, I hope you enjoy the show.” Jester waved them off. “Better get going before you say something else you shouldn’t.”

As the Troll opened his mouth, the flower girl turned on her heel.

“Come on guys, we shouldn’t be talking to degenerate losers like him.”

“Then you should pick your friends more carefully.”

She didn’t turn around, though the elf gave him the finger. A reaction he simply laughed at.

Jester knew he shouldn’t be antagonizing them. But the information they mentioned worried him more than he’d like to admit. The Troll wasn’t wrong. Money could buy victory. Neanderthal proved that well enough.

With annoyance at not having done it earlier, he sent the list of entrants to Dam13n. If they were high roller types, then they might go to the same clubs.

The message he got confirmed his suspicions.

Two on the list were player that Dam13n knew. Karmagician and Dwarvos were both notorious for throwing credits around. They were also late entrants. A sign they were probably in it to take him out. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Whenever someone tried this, another player blocked it. Couldn’t have an Android win one of the Cups. It would be a bad look for the rest of the competitors.

However, they didn’t know he wasn’t working with scavenged equipment. While it may not be the newest gear in the world. He could manage. Provided they didn’t go all out on this.

Jester sent back a quick message thanking Dam13n, before he returned to his spot against the wall. As much as he wanted to, worrying wouldn’t help.

If they came in with top-tier gear, he would lose. That was a simple fact. A design philosophy The Developers lived by.

It made them the most money, after all.

The opening of the door stole his attention this time. Happy Hour stepped out, dressed in her normal attire. She waved when she noticed him looking at her.

“I think it’ll be ready.”

Jester smiled. She’d preempted his question. Not too difficult. It was what he’d been asking every time she came through the door. He opened his mouth, and she cut him off once more.

“No, she didn’t ask for payment. Please Jester, must we do this every time?”

“Sorry Happy Hour.”

“Shall we go? I believe it’s nearing the time for you to log out.”

He checked the in-game clock and blinked.

“Oh, it is. Let’s head back to Markal’s then.”

They walked in silence for a short while, then Happy Hour asked a question.

“Jester? What is the plan for tomorrow?”

“Tiffany knows we might be late. I do want to get to The Junkyard early as well. To make sure they aren’t springing a trap.”

Happy Hour nodded, but said nothing else. She climbed onto the bench when they arrived and waved him goodbye.

That was the last thing he saw before he logged out.