The night was amazing.

Players celebrating together or with their robots packed the main area of the Dollhouse. A mixture of avatars of all types paraded around the dance floor.

Those that weren’t dancing were drinking. Bartenders rushed about behind their bars. Hands blurring as they slung drinks of all shapes and sizes. Cheers rose each time someone was served.

As his foot hit the last step on the way down, heads turned his way. What seemed to him like hundreds of eyes all focused in on him. Then someone started a chant.

Two names shouted again and again. It started with a small group before spreading to the entire floor.

“JESTER! Happy Hour!”

Tiffany shoved him forward, as he grabbed Happy Hour and pulled her forward. Together they stumbled into the crowd who made a space for them. The DJ set a new track, and within moments, she’d pulled him onto the dance floor.

A laugh escaped him as he found himself pulled about for what felt like hours. Not that Happy Hour was there the entire time. Tiffany stole him for any slow song. Her arms wrapped securely around his waist.

Kylee took over for a faster rap battle track. Both of them laughing as the loud thud of the entire crowd jumping almost overpowered the music.

Any time a stranger song blared through the speaker, Happy Hour appeared. Be it country, an orchestra remix or meme song, she was there. Her metal hands meeting with his.

Any time he escaped to a booth, a server placed a drink before him.

They swapped out goblets filled with wine for oaken mugs of beer. At one point, they delivered him a floating rectangle of vodka. When he’d looked to Dam13n, the younger man handed him a metallic straw.

When it wasn’t Dam13n guarding their booth, Kylee planted herself there.

The red-headed mechanic was always chatting with Tiffany whenever Jester disentangled from Happy Hour. Both women laughing as he sat. More drinks appearing as they did so.

Debrah wasn’t charging for the bar. A fact Dam13n was clearly intending to abuse as much as possible.

Between Happy Hour and Tiffany, he got little time to enjoy the breaks. No sooner did he finish a skull of brown liquid, did one or the other grab him. Not that he minded one bit. It was nice to spend time with people like this.

Relaxed. With no real worries weighing him down.

At one point, an NPC requested their presence upstairs. There, they found a quieter party. The music playing was more refined. Each guest had come dressed to appear refined. An illusion shattered by the sight in the ring.

Heather was performing. A sensual dance to the music. She’d gotten Madame Merriam to style her new uniform similarly to her old one. With the skirt being far shorter, and the blouse being less modest. A fact that made her movements even more obvious.

The small stars around the clothes moved in synch with her. A line that drew attention in such a way, Jester worried Tiffany would get annoyed.

Instead, she laughed.

Happy Hour, apparently, didn’t find the sight as amusing. As soon as Jester sat next to Tiffany, she was moving towards the stage. Her hands pulled her bun apart, allowing her hair to flow down.

“This should be good,” Tiffany whispered into his ear.

He laughed in returned, as he watched the two old enemies stare at each other.

Happy Hour’s movements were more graceful than Heather’s. The stars spinning into constellations with every moment. Anytime they came close, Jester swore he saw a subtle bump or kick being thrown.

As he watched, he couldn’t help but scan the room. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Madame Merriam. She spoke to two men in suits, and a woman in a green dress in a style he didn’t recognize.

Both of the men were smiling, while the woman nodded.

His eye then caught sight of Debrah. She was sitting alone, gaze trained on the stage. A small smile graced her face. Whatever she thought of the performance, it wasn’t anything bad.

Relief filled him at that. For a moment, he’d been worried she’d start a fight. A sure bout of entertainment for her guests. Instead, she shifted into a more relaxed posture. One finger raised to order a fresh drink.

When he rose to say hi to her, Tiffany placed a hand on his leg. A movement that stopped him immediately.

“Don’t. Let her enjoy some alone time.”

“What if she wants company?” Jester tried to read Tiffany’s expression. It was hard when it was all smirk.

“What if I’d rather have your company instead?”

He didn’t need to think hard about that statement.

“I’d better stay here then.”

“You should. Here there is a show and a pretty girl. What more could you ask for?”

He laughed and ordered them another drink.

More conversation followed. A few of the fancier guests sliding up to him. He wondered how many of them were involved with Whiskers kidnapping.

An idea that appeared to show in his curt replies. As, after a while, they left him alone. His eyes grew heavy as the night went on. Happy Hour and Heather, now trading more than light taps.

Not a full out fight, yet.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. Tiffany’s lap was a perfect pillow. Her hands in his hair. Happy Hour’s soft hum, a lullaby filled his ears. Jester yawned. He was tired.

“Jester?” Tiffany asked, her voice sounding far away.

“Yes?” He murmured back, trying to not be rude.

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks Tiffany.”

After that, he let his eyes fall shut. A small nap. That was all. Then he’d take her dancing again. She was a wonderful dancer. Even if she wanted to lead the entire time.

When he awoke, Tiffany was gone.

However, unlike last time, he wasn’t the only player left.

“Jester. Good Morning.”

He yawned and waved as he sat up.

“Good morning.”

Jester kept one eye on Debrah, even as he searched for Happy Hour. He smiled when he saw her. She was making tea at one of the bars.

When he finally focused back on the Dollhouse’s owner, he saw her studying him. With one hand, she brushed a strand of hair behind her horns.

“We need to talk.”

“I thought we did?”

Jester blinked as he spoke, trying to remember the party. None of his memories indicated he’d broken any rules. Did Happy Hour do something? Again, not anything he could recall. Though her dance-off was getting rough near the end.

Debrah nodded and glanced towards Happy Hour.

Happy Hour didn’t react, focused on her pour. Jester smiled to see it. There was a smile there. A proper one. If there was one thing she seemed to enjoy, it was serving drinks. He really would have to add that to his store.

“We did.” She acknowledged. “However, I’m in need of you for something else. An upcoming task as it were.”

“Oh?” Jester did his best to shake off any lingering feelings of sleep.

“You know how the second fight changed? How it wasn’t a one-on-one brawl anymore?”

He could tell it was a rhetorical question, and so he treated it as such. When Debrah realized he wouldn’t interrupt, she smiled.

“That isn’t a unique occurrence. As a rather profitable business owner, I get more of an insider perspective than other players. Most of us big ones do. These changes are going to keep happening.”

“Is this your way of telling me the event here is going to be a maze?” He couldn’t help the joke.

Debrah laughed, a tinkling sound that was perfect. Another expensive player DLC option. Still, it sounded tired. Worried. Her gaze darted once more towards Happy Hour.

“No, such thing Jester. I promise. My fights will remain as they’ve always been. A classic fight. It would be bad for business to change things now. Not to mention the costs of the renovations.”

“So, something in the city, then?”

She made a so-so gesture at him. “A bit further out. I really can’t say all that much, because in honesty they didn’t tell me a lot. They mentioned there would be a disturbance soon. One that might impact my clientele for a bit.”

Jester was about to speak when Debrah raised a hand.

“Look, I’ll say this. It would be best for you to stick to Geartown’s streets. Maybe stay in the Dollhouse. If not that, at least keep Happy Hour close?”

He paused before he nodded.

“I can do that. Thank you for the warning.”

“Not a problem, Jester. See you around. Oh, and tell Dam13n the open bar was for this night only?”

Her office door opened and closed without a sound, leaving Jester staring after her, pondering.

What madness were they going to spring on them next?

***

His UI made him aware of the multitude of messages that arrived during his extended absence.

He’d not intended to be away for so long. However, work got busy. Thus, forcing him to spend additional time away from the game. Able to do little but eat, sleep, work, repeat.

Deadlines and paperwork were all he knew.

With the days having blurred by, he was closer than ever to his next fight. There were things he needed to check in on.

Kylee’s weapon making for one. Then maybe try to meet with Masky. Find out what outfit they wanted to use for the battle.

He opened the first message, after saying a quick hello to Happy Hour.

She was siting in Markal’s garage. Their standard log-out point now. Markal sat nearby, buried in work. He didn’t even acknowledge Jester. Which was fine. The messages took all his attention.

The first he checked was from Mistletail. She’d marked it urgent. Multiple exclamation marks.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

That filled him with dread.

[https://i.imgur.com/qUzvJ8Y.png]

As he read it, he hissed through his teeth. She’d included no details. That was annoying.

A common tactic for her, though. She always preferred face-to-face meetings. He shot her back a reply, saying he would be there. Then moved onto the next one.

Kylee’s appeared as Mistletail’s closed. It was a brief info dump about the weapon she was making. Some bombs and a container to collect them in. She’d apparently spoken to Masky. The rabbit theme was still on, and no, it would be the opposite of skimpy.

His gut churned at that. Even through the text, he could hear the laughter. That wasn’t his biggest concern. No, that came from the next message. One from someone that shocked him.

[https://i.imgur.com/wOH74z2.png]

Anger filled him as he read it over again.

Whatever Lexington was on about, it was clear it was on the same track as Mistletail. Scrappers being forced out of the game was ridiculous. They needed the player count. Still, The Developers inconveniencing them wasn’t out of the question.

With a check to see if his top hat was straight, he gestured towards Happy Hour.

“Come on, we have a meeting with Mistletail to get to.”

“Hello to you too, Jester.” She waved as she made her way over.

He winced at that. No part of her tone was upset or disapproving. He doubted she was even aware while he’d been gone. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel bad about it. As stupid as he knew that was.

“Hey Happy Hour.” he did his best to smile at her. “Sorry. Got hit by a lot of messages at once. It’s nice to see you again.”

Happy Hour beamed at him, and she dropped into a curtsy.

“Good to be back with you, Jester. What does Mistletail want?”

“Not sure, she didn’t say. But from the smug message I got from Lexington, I’d say nothing good.”

At the mention of that name, Happy Hour frowned.

“I don’t like him.”

“That’s the correct attitude to have.” Jester made a motion towards the door. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The first thing he noticed when he stepped outside was the people. Unlike the normally quiet streets, chaos engulfed him. Players that were dressed for Geartown were flooding through. They chatted, laughed, and pointed out the scenery.

His breath caught in his chest.

Whatever this wasn’t, it was major. Some update he’d missed? The game had taken a few extra seconds to load in than normal.

No one noticed him as he stood outside of Markal’s store. All intent on moving through. To where, he wasn’t sure. Though he knew he’d need to jump into it.

Happy Hour clasped him on the shoulder.

“Jester?”

“I don’t know. Keep close, though.”

It took a moment for a space to open up that he could slip into. People grumbled, one man complaining about being late now. Jester ignored them, intent on getting across the street. This was a mess, and the back alleyways would be quicker.

He noticed other players with arm bands similar to his own peering from rooftops. This included a big man in a suit of armor, who waved. Jester grinned.

“Andry?”

“Jester!” Andry boomed out as they climbed to the roof. “Welcome to the madness.”

“Madness is right. I’m on my way to see Mistletail. How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, a few hours now. New patch.” There was a hitch to his voice. “Mistletail will want to fill you in.”

“Sure, but where are they going?”

Andry didn’t smile as he spoke, his voice as much of a whisper as he could manage.

“The Junkyard.”

“Oh,” Jester said, the meaning of Lexington’s message becoming clearer. “More virus tech? They were doing this before, weren’t they?”

“Not in these numbers.” Andry looked towards the horizon. “That’s new too. Go see Mistletail. Stick to the rooftops if you want to travel quickly. Most of them refuse to climb up here.”

“It is undignified,” Happy Hour said.

“I remember you jumping across them with a smile.”

“That was different. We were being chased.” She sniffed as she continued to stare into the flowing mass of people.

“If you say so. Thanks Andry.”

“No problem, say hi to Mistletail for me. I’ll have the report to her before lunch.”

Jester nodded and turned away.

Several jumps, another alleyway crossing, and one bout of moving around a fight, and they’d arrived.

The building looked the same as ever, except for one crucial difference. Two players with arm bands stood out front. Both standing next to robots of a type he’d never seen before.

These weren’t the typical Scrapper bots. Basic parts put together with no sense of style or care. Where the best piece of gear was front and center.

No, these were a chimera of electronics.

A Frankenstein-esq creation that showcased a new design philosophy.

The attached torsos and heads and weapons and limbs merged with zero care to any form of aesthetic style. Some pointing in such a way Jester knew they couldn’t actually do anything. One guard, whose robot was more bestial than the other, stared at him.

Jester stared back, wondering why the crossbow pointed at the hissing snake head. It couldn’t fire. Not unless the robot lost that head somehow.

A whimper from behind him made him turn. Happy Hour was backing away from the creature. Red-eyes wide as she did so. Any trace of calm was gone. When he tried to take one of her hands, she slapped him away. Terror was plain, and something else.

Disgust?

“We should go.”

“Happy Hour, what’s wrong?”

Both of the guards were watching him now. Expressions shocked, as he turned to her. He did his best to ignore them.

“Hey, Happy Hour? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Them. Can’t you feel it?”

“What are you talking about?” The words were out of his mouth, even as his mind processed what she meant.

“The virus,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“Yes. They’re riddled with it. Jester, I don’t like this.”

He inwardly cursed and looked towards the other players. Both looked confused now, as they eye’d the machines beside them.

“Will you be alright here for a moment?”

She nodded, and he stepped away. Though he never took his gaze away from her.

“Hey guys, you two new?”

“That’s right,” said the guard with the snake headed robot. “Andry recruited us. Got us these really cool robots. What’s wrong with yours?”

“It’s a quest thing with the virus. She can’t be near them. Can you put yours away?”

“Nah,” the other one said. “Won’t let us.”

“You don’t have an inventory?” Jester knew he’d be the one that looked confused now.

“We do. But, well, ya know. Can’t put the virus stuff into the inventory?”

“Right, yeah. So how does this work then? You own them?”

“I think so,” the first guard said. “We each got a quest for them in the Junkyard. They bonded with us after we got ambushed. Then they followed us around. Even let us give them orders.”

“Right, look. You wouldn’t mind moving away, would you? I need to talk to Mistletail.”

Both of the guards shrugged and shifted their position.

With a thankful nod, he led Happy Hour inside.

He really hoped that Mistletail would have answers for him. This was getting weird.

***

Happy Hour hadn’t offered to retrieve tea for them this time.

As they sat before Mistletail’s desk, he patted her hand. He could feel a vibration there. Similar to the hum of an electrical current. It’d been a constant presence since she’d arrived at the building.

Though it was fainter now that those Chimera-bots were no longer in her immediate vicinity. Still, something was setting her off. He wished he could tell what it was.

Mistletail busied herself with paperwork. Most, from what he could see, were reports. While he couldn’t read the exact writing, he knew what they’d be about. This swarm of players and whatever new event The Developers had decided on.

Jester didn’t say a word as the older woman worked.

She didn’t seem to pay them any mind. Not more than the small glance she’d given them as they walked in. Beside him, Happy Hour shivered.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but what did you want?”

An intense pressure came over him as Mistletail looked at him. Though it wasn’t one of fear. It was as though her tiredness was a physical thing. A creature that wanted nothing more than to consume him. To chew on his bones and grind him down to nothing.

“You’re right. I apologize. It’s been hectic lately.”

Even her voice was wrong. None of the stern tone was present, nor the grandmotherly one. It was hollow. The voice of someone overworked and ready to give up.

“Don’t stress, how can I help?” Jester tried to interject as much positivity into the statement as he could.

While Mistletail could be scary, she did a lot of important work. Plus, he’d always respected her. If he could take some of the burden off her shoulders, he would. It would be the least he could do.

“I don’t know.” She looked back at her reports. “This is so much change in such a short amount of time.”

“Those Chimera bots?”

Mistletail sighed. “Are the first of many problems. Though my guess there was an attempt by The Developers to fix the imbalance.”

She went silent, and Jester waited for her to continue.

“Scrappers are getting robots at an unprecedented rate.”

“I saw the two outside.” He shifted in his seat and looked to Happy Her. She’d shivered again at those words.

“Yes. They aren’t the first ones to turn up. Andry has been helping people capture them.”

“Why?” Jester asked. “What exactly are they?”

She shook her head. “You’ve been offline. Shall I start from the beginning?”

“Please.” He turned to Happy Hour. “Perhaps you need a change of clothes.”

“Jester?”

“I think this calls for a knight, don’t you?” His smile hurt his cheeks, but he kept it up. “Keep these things further away from you.”

He didn’t know if that would work. However, he remembered the confidence she’d displayed. The willingness to fight. That was something it seemed she needed. If the Beegown wasn’t being repaired, he’d have used that.

She was anything but afraid as the queen of the maze.

Happy Hour stood and dropped into a small curtsy directed at Mistletail.

“You might be right, Jester. Ma’am, is there a place I can change?”

“Jile isn’t using his office, he never is. The door has a lock function. Please, take your time.”

“We’ll wait for you to get back.” Jester gestured towards the door, as he pulled the suit of armor out of his inventory. “Did you need help?”

She gathered the pieces in her arms with an ease that only a digital realm could replicate.

“That’s fine. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Jester nodded and watched her go. As soon as she left, he returned his attention to Mistletail.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Mistletail confirmed. “Not game ending, but there are some major changes coming. I’m trying to get as much information about it as I can.”

Jester clicked his fingers. “Oh right. Andry said he’d have the report to you by lunch.”

Mistletail smiled. “He’s been a big help with all of this. The man may not be the most punctual, however, he is enthusiastic.”

“No one can accuse him of anything else.”

Jester continued to ask her questions about the other members, as he bought time for Happy Hour to return. Her clanking footsteps interrupted them. The door being open with a gentle shove.

When she stepped into the room, she didn’t return to her seat. Instead, she took up position by his side. When Mistletail looked at her, Happy Hour snapped off a salute.

“Ma’am. I apologize for the inconvenience. Please, let us continue to see how we can combat this new fiendish menace.”

“As you wish.” Mistletail shifted her position in her seat. “To start with. You know about the virus. So we can skip that part. In the last few days, more and more signs of it have been appearing. Then we all got a notification. That it activated.”

“Did someone trigger it?” Jester asked.

He knew it wasn’t likely. But it couldn’t hurt to check. Most events like this were Developer focused. Not something they left for Players to stumble open. It made it easier for them to launch in the way they wanted to most.

“No. This happened on its own.” Mistletail gave a small sigh. “We were some of the first to understand what it meant. The Scrapper gangs, anyway. One of those strange machines ambushed Kangarookie.”

“I’ve been mentally calling them Chimera-bots.”

Mistletail looked at him, that stern aura coming over her once more. He shrank back in his seat.

“I apologize for interrupting.”

“Yes. So, these Chimera-bots attacked him. When they touched some of his gang that didn’t have robots of their own, an ownership quest triggered.”

Jester nodded, and Happy Hour mirrored the action.

“All they needed to do was accept. No clause, no payment, nothing.”

“Strange.”

He couldn’t help himself. That was weird. The company never said no to more money.

“Yes. They give you an inventory, however, you can’t put them away. Plus, the only upgrades they can accept is equipment with the virus. So no custom stuff, unless you get it infected somehow.”

That made him glance towards Happy Hour.

“It can do that?”

“Yes, though it takes contact.”

Jester folded his arms, curbing his desire to place a hand on Happy Hour’s armor. She was standing still, perfectly at ease. Though he wondered if the armor simply hid her shaking.

“Can the Chimera-bots pass the virus on?”

“We aren’t sure.” Mistletail flicked through some paperwork. “From what we can tell, they act as any other robot. Though we haven’t had them fight any pre-update ones yet.”

“That would explain why Debrah warned me against coming out here,” Jester said.

At Mistletail’s raised eyebrow, he explained.

“Hmm, interesting. She might be right. Better not to risk anything. A pity. Someone of your star power might get through to other players.”

“In what way?”

“The gangs aren’t appreciating all this recent interest in their turf. Andry can’t handle it all on his own. Plus, normal Scrappers cannot earn any credits easily. No one’s buying the virus riddled gear.”

“Yet. I bet a merchant pops up when whatever this is reaches fruition. Too much money on the line otherwise.”

Mistletail almost looked proud as she nodded along with the statement.

“Too true. Anyway, that’s the gist of it. You take care of yourself, Jester. We’re counting on you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dismissed. Oh, and congratulations on your win.”

As they left the office, Happy Hour turned her armored head towards Jester. When he noticed, he paused.

“Jester? What is our next noble quest?”

“Kylee. We’ll talk to her and see if we can’t make you virus resistant.”

“A fine plan.”

With another nod, Jester started towards the door. There was work to be done.