Jester shivered as excitement coursed through his body.

Beside him, Happy Hour kept an eye on Whiskers. The robopet was in his harness which they’d connected to a very short lead. They were not taking chances today. Already Whiskers had tried to lash out at a passing Chimera-bot.

It was only a quick tug and Jester getting in between the two machines that saved them.

He’d suggested that he should take the cat, but Happy Hour was firmly against the idea. She’d shaken her head and pulled Whiskers closer.

“He’s fine with me,” she said, her voice stern. “We’ll be fine.”

Jester wasn’t sure he’d agreed, but he didn’t argue. This day was going to be stressful enough as it was. Tiffany filled his inbox with a multitude of good luck messages. Kylee and Dam13n squeezing off a few of the same.

Even Debrah and Madame Merriam made sure he knew they were both rooting for him.

Though the latter almost mentioned that he needed to be early. She’d been quite insistent that they both arrived for one last fitting. Not that Jester thought they needed it. Happy Hour was adamant that it was perfect already.

Madame Merriam, however, appeared to disagree.

He shook his head at her fussing, but took it in stride. This was her best work to hear her tell it. She was well within her right to fuss.

“Are you nervous too?” Jester asked as they passed over into Geartown.

All around them, players spoke and laughed in excited voices. Even if it was only the Frankenstein Cup, a final match was a final match. Crowds flowed towards The Copper Colosseum. Street Vendors calling out their wares to the passersby.

When he saw one stall, little more than a box and a rug, he saw physical versions of various screenshots on display. Art pieces that players could display in any residency or business they might own.

Most were from The Technomancers Cup, though one caught his eye.

“A little,” Happy Hour said as he stopped to investigate the find.

From behind the box, the woman nodded to him. A hand running through the long vines that simulated her hair. When she smiled, the bark of her body crackled and splintered.

“One of my favorite pieces, that one.” Her voice sounded like the rustling of leaves. “I’m glad I was in one of the Headloppers for that event.”

“It was a hell of a moment.” Jester reached down and picked up the item in question.

They’d made the surrounding frame of various scraps of metal. A collage of sections that came together to form a piece that caught the eye. However, it was the image it held that interested him the most.

Happy Hour leaning backwards on one foot as a fireball shot overhead. Her face twisted into a laugh, and he could see the stray hairs falling out of place. Her armor and dress seemed to glow in the fireball's presence.

She was a warrior queen, showing that she could conquer anything thrown at her.

With a glance to his side, he could see Happy Hour was staring as well. Even Whiskers seemed interested in the piece. His blue eyes locked on as though it were a priceless treasure.

“I take it you’re interested, then?” There was a smug tone to the shopkeeper’s voice.

Not that he blamed her for it. He knew he wasn’t being subtle.

“I am.”

“Of course. If I owned a robot as photogenic as yours, I’d admire her art too.” The sound of cracking bark was back. “Shall we discuss prices?”

“Sure, though I have a question.”

“We don’t do two-for-one deals. I have a boyfriend. No, you don’t own the original image.” She snapped the answer off as though she’d rehearsed it. Which he figured she’d probably gotten to.

“Good to know, not my question. Are you going to be at the fight again? This is some impressive work.”

She nodded. “I am.”

“Excellent. How much for this piece, then?”

“Normally?” She tapped a dark-skinned finger to her lips. “Fifty Credits. For you? I could do forty.”

“Done.”

At times like these, he’d been glad he’d done a few extra painting jobs for Markal. It didn’t earn him much, but this would be worth it.

“Happy doing business with you.”

With the painting in his inventory and a smile on his face, he started heading back to his original destination.

“Why did you buy that, Jester?” Happy Hour asked as they moved along the crowded streets.

“We’re going to need things to decorate your the waiting room for your dance hall aren’t we?” Jester laughed at the look of surprise on her face. “If you don’t want it there, we can always put it up in the store?”

She grinned at him and shook her head. Even Whiskers let out a small affronted meow, as though the idea offended him on a personal level.

“No, I do like it. I’m simply surprised that you’re buying me things.” Her words trailed off as she looked at him. “Are you sure about it, though?”

“Yes. I like it, you like it and it’s a marvellous piece. We have the extra money, so why not?”

“Because you need the money to take Tiffany out?”

He waved her away. “We have our winnings for that.”

“If you win,” someone in the mass of players called out.

A few people chuckled, but Jester ignored them. Sure, he couldn’t admit the possibility of loss wasn’t something he thought about. However, it didn’t matter. As he said, it was a marvellous piece. One that he might try to draw himself if he got the time.

Happy Hour stuck close to him for the rest of the walk. Whiskers sitting on her shoulder, yawning occasionally. Soon enough, they stood outside Madame Merriam’s. To his surprise, the Gargoyle door wasn’t shut.

“Hello?” he called out as he moved in.

The room was darker than he knew it should be. As though something was blocking the lights from the outside coming in. He did his best to keep his steps quiet as they moved forward. With one hand, Happy Hour reached up and touched a finger to Whiskers lips.

A heaviness filled the air. One that he didn’t like.

As they moved further into the room, he couldn’t help but gasp.

It was a ruin.

The floating platforms were laying on the ground. Mannequins, candles and equipment were strewn about. Multiple pieces of paper littered the ground, all of them words impossible to make out in the gloom.

He bent down to examine it, surprised when he saw it done up like a message would be in his UI.

[https://i.imgur.com/3HGzolP.png]

Jester’s blood ran cold as he read the message until his logical brain kicked in.

Whomever this was couldn’t actually hurt Madame Merriam in any real way. Scare her? Yes. Cause property damage? Yes. However, it didn’t matter what they did. She would physically be fine.

The game would record logs of any such interactions. If the Developers deemed them problematic, they would ban the perpetrators. He wondered how they got a Chimera-bot in here. As he stood, he did his best to survey the damage with a sigh.

It’d always been possible for robots to damage property like this. Though the fact they did so in such a casual manner was worrying.

He wondered what the rest of the street thought of the commotion.

From behind him, he could hear Happy Hour walking about the room. He didn’t turn to look, instead he tried to figure out where she could be. He sent a message off to Tiffany and to Debrah. Then another to Kylee.

Kylee was the quickest to respond, and he sighed in relief. She was safe, though Lugathin was a bit dinged up.

Jester couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle at that.

Whatever this group paid them, was nowhere near enough to deal with Lugathin.

There was one interesting tidbit in her message that caught his eye. The player was wearing the default starting gear and avatar. Though the way they spoke and acted showed they were anything but.

Tiffany message she was on her way and to hold down the fort. Debrah sending him a similar message not long after. As he closed both of them, he heard Happy Hour call his name. He whirled on his heel to see her standing amidst the crashed platforms.

Worry was evident in her posture.

“It’s not here.”

“What?” Even as he spoke, he knew what she was talking about.

“The outfit. Today’s outfit. It’s not here.”

“Well, fuck.” It was all he could think to say.

***

Debrah walked in to the store before Tiffany, Heather following at the rear.

The blonde Android didn’t even say anything snarky to Happy Hour. Instead, she moved to her, and he watched the two ex-workmates embrace. From the looks on both of their faces, they were upset. A fact that amazed him.

DollmakerMC really was making some cutting-edge stuff.

Tiffany moved to embrace him in a hug that blocked his view. A tug on his hand made him release the paper. The sound of Debrah reading it out loud filling the room. With a mechanical motion, he leaned into the hug.

“Hey, thanks for coming.”

“All good, dude.” Tiffany let him go and looked him in the eye. “Not leaving you hanging, plus she’s my friend, too.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Still, I appreciate it.” He smiled and turned towards Happy Hour.

She was standing next to Heather, arms cradling Whiskers to her chest. As though sensing the tension, he purred. With squeaks and chirps, he rubbed his head against her. Tail flicking against her stomach.

When she noticed him looking, she nodded, her face in that impassive mask.

“What do we do now?” Her voice was icy, and her eyes never left him.

They bore into him with a single question. The real question. Should they quit? Not show up? Capitulate with their demands. He hated the idea of it. Jester knew they couldn’t do anything to her. This was a scare tactic and nothing more.

Still.

The fact they’d even grabbed her like this was a problem. One that he fully expected to be dealt with using the harshest measures. Already he could see Debrah typing in the air. Her fingers moving so fast they would shatter the keys if it was a real keyboard.

“We fight.”

That was the only answer he felt comfortable giving.

Beside him, Tiffany nodded and squeezed his hand. “Good man, backing down won’t help.”

Heather grinned. “Besides, like, it would show them if you won, anyway. How scare of you are they to try something like this? O.M.G. They’ll go mental.”

“You will fight today,” the tone in Debrah’s voice brooked no argument.

“We don’t have the outfit though,” Happy Hour said. “She wanted one last fitting.”

“Then figure something else out. You have one of the old ones, right?” Debrah waved the words alone.

“Better suggestion.” Tiffany moved forward and laid a hand on Whisker’s head. “How about this one?”

Jester froze as he thought about that. They’d been planning on using the Chimera-bot mode against Lexington. However, it would work well enough here, he supposed. He’d seen it in action. She was powerful in that form.

Though more sassy than he would have liked.

The issue they faced was one of power. If it wasn’t strong enough, they were done. Plus, they’d need to load up Whiskers to get it to work. That would take up time. Which was rapidly running out.

He looked over at Happy Hour, who nodded.

“It’s a possibility.” Jester motioned outside. “It’ll be getting to The Outskirts and finding a Chimera-bot, though.”

“We can get you there.” Debrah moved her hooves, crunching the spilled papers as she walked. “Come.”

Tiffany and Heather were not subtle about bullying people out of the way. They shoved, pushed, and yelled. Anytime someone gave them any flack, Debrah was there. Her smile in place as she got them to step aside.

He didn’t know how she did it, nor did he care. They were making good time. That was all that mattered.

They crossed the boundary and Jester’s eyes darted about for what he was looking for. On any day, Chimera-bots roamed the streets with abandon. Even on the walk over, they’d been present. Now? It was like someone had deleted them from the game.

With a curse, he moved, pushing through the crowd. When he spotted a player wearing an armband, he approached.

“You, where are the Chimera-bots?”

The young man with spectacles shrugged. “Side streets. We wanted to keep the pathway clear as we could today.”

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he moved. That was good. It meant whoever was behind this wasn’t hiding them. In mere minutes, they found one. Before they rose a familiar worm-like robot whose single camera focused on them.

Beside the Chimera-bot, Abradarkness waved.

“Hey Jester.”

“Hey,” Jester said. “Sorry, not much time. Can I have Whiskers touch your robot?”

The boy blinked and nodded, his eyes darting around their group. When it landed on Debrah, he looked away. An act that earned him a soft chuckle from Heather. Debrah didn’t seem to notice. Too absorbed in typing out her messages.

He ignored the silent exchange, grabbing Whiskers from Happy Hour.

Though he whined and yowled, he still reached out to bat at the Chimera-Bot. In moments, his eyes were glowing purple. His body relaxed as it could be, even as he looked towards Happy Hour.

She took a step away.

“Come on,” Jester said. “Well, see you later. Thanks for this.”

“Um, yeah, sure, um. Bye?”

Abradarkness was still stuttering out his words as they left. Tiffany moved up beside him, standing between him and Happy Hour. Whiskers reached out to bat at her shoulder. She ignored the robopet.

Together, they travelled in a small group. Jester and Happy Hour being kept together as much as possible. From all around them, players stopped to look and point. Some called out greetings, others insults.

None got physical until they approached The Copper Coliseum itself.

It started small. Groups moving to stall them. For all the world, nothing but friends chatting while being inconsiderate of others. When Tiffany simply bulled through them, it changed. Lines of people formed. All standing so they faced Happy Hour.

Each grinned as they did their best to block their path. When Tiffany hit them, they simply pushed back. Not that any could withstand her for long.

The lines no longer working, he saw robots getting summoned. Players complained as robotic tanks, dogs and even an eagle or two came to life. None of them painted or even well crafted. Simple machines for a simple purpose.

To get in the way.

However, unlike the players, Happy Hour and Heather could get involved with these. Jester watched over–joyed as his robots kicked and shoved past them. A hair-breadth of force away from triggering a proper fight.

Any time someone challenged him, he would refuse. Those watching would consider it cowardly, but he didn’t care. No one could force a fight.

After his obstructors deemed that tactics a failure, they simply swarmed. The groups from before joined the lines which joined the robots. A mass of metal and digital flesh to stop them from getting forward.

It was a pity for them that Jester had already dealt with such a thing.

His eyes darted around until he found the side of a building. He cupped his hands and squatted. Tiffany and Debrah moving in front of him.

“Up!” He called to Happy Hour.

She took the hint and used his hands to climb the building. Jester followed suit as soon as he was able. The sight before him took his breath away. From his position on the rooftop, he could see the mass of people.

All wore those basic skins of a fresh avatar. Their multitude of eyes stared up at him as they grinned. It was like something out of a horror movie.

“Get them!” someone cried.

Tiffany and Debrah ran, Heather going behind them as the crowd surged forward. Players started climbing the buildings. He turned to Happy Hour, who was doing some simple stretches.

“Back to the start once more,” Jester said.

She grinned. “At least they aren’t tearing my clothes this time.”

With that, they were off. They leapt between buildings, doing their best to dodge all they could. Happy Hour was a delight to watch. Her movements were even smoother now than they’d been this time. With two hands, she vaulted a weather vane.

One of her open legs caught a robot that was climbing to get them in the head. It fell with a clanking of metal on stone.

Jester checked the time in his UI as they moved. Fifteen minutes left. If they hadn’t gotten to Madame Merriam’s early, it would have been an issue. The need to dodge and take a circuitous route didn’t help.

Players cambered up, and dove for them. A hoard of voices that screamed about how they should quit. How the rules shouldn’t allow a doll to compete.

In time, the Coliseum came into view. One issue arose as it did. They would need to get down to street level once more.

Which, when looking at the gathered crowd below, would be a problem.

They stopped at the edge, and he stared at what awaited for them. His mind trying to see a solution to their predicament.

***

Their pursuers were getting closer as he tried to think of a way out.

A jump from here wouldn’t do any actual damage. Not that they needed to jump. This building was all spikes and railings. An odd design choice, but one that he appreciated at the moment.

From beside him, he saw Happy Hour raise her arm and point.

“I don’t think that’s a player?”

He frowned as he looked at where she was pointing. Then stopped and did a double take. A smile covered his face, and then he started laughing. She was right. It was a robot. One that recognized.

It was a gold-skinned samurai whose flowing robes drifted in a nonexistent breeze. Next to him were several versions of a cat girl design.

Then he glimpsed the old woman who’d mentioned her husband.

As he stared, he recognised more and more faces. They were all from the Dollhouse. Each and every one. Even the robotic bartenders were out here. Almost as one, they started cheering.

“JESTER! Happy Hour!”

The noise was deafening, and he turned to Happy Hour.

She was already bowing to her audience. Hands moving as she blew kisses into the crowd. He laughed and shook his head.

“We need to get going,” was all he said as he descended.

She followed him and once they both stood together, Androids and players alike swarmed them. Cat girls meowed and pixies flew overhead. Players pressed in, forming a protective circle as they pushed him towards the Coliseum’s entrance.

However, it wasn’t all smooth scaling. He could hear the sounds of angry shouts and fights breaking out. Players nearby screamed and there was the roar of mechanized combat. Someone was already fighting properly.

Happy Hour clutched at his hand, and he squeezed it. Whiskers meowed from under his other arm.

Bodies pressed in and shifted. Androids and players intermingled as they roared their names. Screamed for Happy Hour’s victory. Cursed any who tried to prevent it. All the while, the clock in his UI ticked onwards.

Players streamed in with him, sometimes bodily, shoving people out of the way. In moments, he was before the counter. Chester staring at him with wide eyes.

“Jester St’Servo here to sign in?” He said in a rapid torrent of words.

“Yes,” he said, his voice breaking on the word.

Without warning, Chester hurried him across the room. His ears ringing at the sheer noise of everything that was going on around him. As soon as he reached the door, a hand shoved him through.

It closed, plunging everything into silence.

The first thing he noticed was that Glasshopper was inside. She was staring at him with terrified eyes. Her hands shaking as though she expected him to attack her.

He noticed she’d wrapped her translucent cloak around herself.

“Hi,” Jester said.

“Um, hi.” she squeaked out. “I, um, good luck?”

“To you as well.” Happy Hour smiled and held out a hand. “May the fight be fair.”

“Right, yeah.” Glasshopper looked at the extended hand but didn’t take it. “Listen. This wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know. They didn’t tell me until right before. You have to understand.”

“They took my friend.”

“No!” She shook her head. “Exploit to disconnect her is all. She’s fine. They promised me.”

“Who did?” Jester took a step forward, and she flinched back.

There was a satisfaction in his stomach at that. An emotional response that made him feel vaguely guilty.

“These guys. They came to me. Said you cost them money, and they wanted to rig the match. Told me if I didn’t go along with it, they’d harass me off the game.”

He frowned at that. “In what way?”

“Said they’d send me a lot of those messages you can’t block. Then they’d have people follow me.” She wrapped her cloak around herself. “Didn’t believe them at first. Then the messages started.”

“We’re sorry that happened,” Happy Hour said.

Her voice was gentle, and her body language followed suit. She didn’t approach Glasshopper, but she reached out a hand again. Whiskers meowed from where Jester clutched him under his arm.

This time, Glasshopper reached out to take it. When she did, Happy Hour smiled and nodded.

“Know that we aren’t blaming you for this. We know of this group they’ve struck before. Though we don’t know all the members.”

Glasshopper looked away. “I wanted to be in the Cups was all. Didn’t even know about the Doll thing until after the first round. They didn’t approach me until after the third round.”

“More than likely seeing which they needed to talk to,” Jester said.

The door opened and Chester walked in. Even that brief period of the door being opened let the noise back in. It was still at a deafening level. Players screaming names and threats in equal measure.

At the sight of them standing together, Chester looked more nervous.

“I’m here to tell you the match is being delayed. Not for long, only until we can get the issues outside sorted. We apologize for the wait.”

“No bother.” Jester did his best to smile at him. “Thank you for letting us know.”

Glasshopper raised a tentative hand, and once Chester nodded, she spoke.

“Are we allowed to go sit in the screen rooms?”

“They are open for use if you wish,” Chester confirmed.

“Thank you.” With that, Glasshopper let go of Happy Hour’s hand and walked away.

She was trembling as she did so. Her cloak looking even more like insect wings with the way they shifted about. He watched her leave, only turning back to Chester when she was gone.

“Do you want to hide out in here?” Jester offered.

Chester winced and shook his head. “I need to be out there manning the desk.”

“As you say.”

Happy Hour moved over and gave Chester a hug. A move that seemed to confuse him. When she released it, she smiled at him.

“You’ll be ok.”

Jester was sure he could see a smile come over the NPC’s face. He was standing straighter and seemed to move with more confidence. The door opened, and he left, taking the sudden burst of noise with him.

Once he was gone, Happy Hour turned to him.

“Shall we follow suit, Jester?”

“Can’t see a reason not to,” he admitted.

Together, they turned and headed into the waiting room. He took his normal chair as Happy Hour stood on the teleportation platform. After a short debate, he let Whiskers loose. The robopet went on a beeline straight for her.

The transformation seemed to take no time at all.

Before him was Virus-Hour. Bunny ears waving as she looked around at her surroundings. Her cup hand shifted and pointed at him.

“So, how long will they make me wait?”

“No idea,” Jester said. “Are you ready for what comes next?”

The makeshift mask hid her mouth from sight. However, he could feel those green eyes boring into him. As though searching for the reason that he’d ask such a stupid question.

“What do you think?”