Jester moved to Happy Hour as he continued to watch the screen.

It didn’t change. Those same two words were still the only thing it displayed. As he drew closer to Happy Hour, he could hear the giggling. She’d raised her cup in hand as her entire body shook. The laughter growing to fill the room as he arrived at her side.

“I got them!” She cried out as he reached down to help her up. “I won!”

Jester paused at that. She was right. That was her victory. Which meant they’d won the entire thing. The Frankenstein Cup was over and with an Android taking the victory, no less. He couldn’t help but smile as he stared at her.

“You did. We won!”

His shout reverberated throughout the room, mixing with a fresh bout of laughter from Happy Hour. Together they stood, simply celebrating their victory. Jester shook his head as the laughter died down.

Victory.

Dread settled in as his eyes flicked towards the screen, still displaying those two words.

PLEASE WAIT.

He was glad they’d made it through. That they’d come out victorious and proved without a doubt not only what a Scrapper could do, but an Android as well.

Players had underestimated them both for so long that coming out on top like this would shake things up.

A fact the fights proved.

As Happy Hour continued celebrating, he opened up his messenger function and started writing. First, he messaged Tiffany about their victory. Sure, she’d know already, he knew. Still, it felt right for her to be the first one he told.

Next was Dam13n, then Debrah. Kylee was a longer message where he tried to slip in as many technical details as he could remember.

Last, but not least, was Mistletail.

With how many members of the Scrappers Union there were in the audience, she’d want the report.

His message done, he turned to Happy Hour. She was holding her cup hand up in a toast, and her ears were twitching.

“To our victory!”

He held his own hand up minus the cup.

“To our victory!”

Jester joined her in the pretend drink and then motioned to her.

“Once you’re changed we’ll get going, yeah?”

“Do I have to? You know I’m better like this. More powerful.” Her tone was stubborn, and a touch put out.

“Yes. We can’t have you wandering around like that. Now come on.”

“What if I refuse?”

Jester paused at the question. He couldn’t exactly do much if she did, with her virus form unable to go into his inventory. Then an idea struck him.

“They won’t let you into the venue dressed like this. You’re on camera attacking someone.”

She let out a snort. “Please, I barely touched him.”

“Doesn’t matter. You want to end up with DollmakerMC again?”

Happy Hour stared at him before she waved a hand. The knife arm under her chin mimicking the action.

“Fine. Fine. Don’t keep me out of sight too long. I’d love a shot at Rippertooth.”

“No, I have other plans for that one.” Jester grinned, showing off as many teeth as he could. “If we win, you can go up against whoever we fight next.”

She was back into her traditional star maid outfit before the words were finishing ringing in the air.

Jester shrugged. That was fine. He’d be more than pleased to let her out for that fight if he got the opportunity. After all, it wouldn’t change the outcome. Not if they went up against anyone from the Technomancers cup.

“Jester,” Happy Hour said as she smiled. “We won.”

Her grin widened as she ran towards him, and he laughed as he picked her up and spun her around. When he put her down, she slipped an arm into his.

“Do you think this will stop people messing with us?” Her red eyes focused on him. “It would be nice to walk without the comments.”

“Unlikely.”

Happy Hour pouted at that.

He ignored the sad face and made to open the door. The doorknob didn’t turn. Jester frowned and tried again. When pushing didn’t work, he tried pulling. No movement.

“Hey!” He called out as he pounded on the door. “Chester!”

After a full minute of no responses, he checked his UI. There wasn’t a single reply to any of his messages. That surprised him. One of them should have tried messaging him back.

“Jester?” Happy Hour sounded unsure.

“Don’t know.” He turned towards the screen and saw it was still sitting on the same two words.

PLEASE WAIT.

When another attempt at the door failed, he moved to the chair and sat down. “I guess we’re stuck for a while.”

Beneath his seat came a soft meowing. Whiskers moved into the light, tail swishing. Blue lights met red eyes, and with in seconds Happy Hour was carrying Whiskers in her arms.

The robopets meowing and purrs filled the room for several more minutes as he delighted in the attention.

Only once he’d calmed again did she turn her attention back to Jester.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

It was all he could do not to shrug again.

“No idea. I think it’ll depend on how long until the Developers give up and intervene. Sure, this kind of player event is great for ratings, and I’m sure the clips are going nuts online. Still, it wasn’t a great look overall.”

Even as he spoke, he could imagine people dressed in suits in a boardroom. All discussing charts that show projected profits versus losses from the current situation.

The thought made him chuckle.

It was odd that the messaging system wasn’t working. Though he chalked that up to some kind of server drain. Some internal struggle from all the players who came to see what the fuss was about in person.

While The Copper Coliseum could hold a decent amount, it didn’t normally house this many. Not to mention the players milling about outside.

No, this might take a while to sort out.

Time ticked by as they waited. Jester monitoring the screen in between chatting with Happy Hour. She was eager to hear abut the fight. Not remembering as much as she should. Whiskers meowed for attention anytime she got too caught up in the story.

As he was describing the way Inectorz died, the screen changed.

A single line of text now flashed onto the screen.

PLEASE STEP ONTO THE TELEPORTATION PLATFORM

With his arm linked with Happy Hours, he did exactly that.

Instead of the normal instant movement, they stayed for over a minute. Both looking between each other, as Whiskers purred. Then they were in the middle of the arena.

It was no longer the grassy field, back once more to its normal desert features. Glasshopper was there too, standing nearby with Inectorz at her back. Jester couldn’t help but shudder as he looked at the machine.

The insectoid robot was far, far larger in person.

Not for the first time, he was glad he didn’t have to be the one fighting. That was creepy as hell.

After a quick glance around, he noted the entire arena was empty. Not a single player remained in attendance. No NPCs were visible cleaning the stands either. It gave the entire thing an uncanny atmosphere.

His attention was grad with a popping sound and a woman appeared in front of them both. One that he knew. That every player knew, really.

Short brown curls framed a pretty face, and her business suit looked freshly pressed. White gloves covered both her hands. The RagerSystems logo stitched on the back of them.

When she smiled, dimples appeared, and her green eyes shone in obvious excitement.

“Welcome to you both.” Her voice was melodic, the type built to be on the radio or making announcements. Easy to listen to while sacrificing none of its authoritative tone.

Jester said nothing, and he could see that Glasshopper looked terrified.

When neither spoke, she simply continued without a single change in facial expression.

“I’m Sandra Hullogain. Head of Public Relations for RagerSystems and I also manage the team designed to deal with player interactions. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Glasshopper looked like she wanted to run, so Jester nodded.

“Nice to meet you, Jester St’Servo.”

“Likewise. There was supposed to be a ceremony, a giant novelty check alongside the normal trappings, but well...” She trailed off and laughed and Jester couldn’t help but smile along.

“Things got a bit out of hand?” He supplied.

“Quite. So I apologize, but we will skip all of that. Don’t worry though, you’ll still be getting your reward and your invite to the Final Cup. Along with, Miss Happy Hour, correct?”

Happy Hour dropped into a curtsy but said nothing. Nor did she raise herself out of the position. Instead, she stayed like that, legs bent and dress outstretched. Jester placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

He didn’t know if it would help or not, but it seemed the right thing to do.

“Yes,” he answered for her. “So, what now?”

“Now? We’re briefly shutting down the server for the time being. About an hour while we get things sorted. Check logs to find out who started it all. Then we’re letting people back on in batches. You’ll both be in the first group of players allowed in at the start.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She clapped her hands. Even with gloves on, the sound rang in the arena. “With that said, it was nice meeting you both. Congratulations on your victory and good luck to you Jester for your next matches.”

As she disappeared, he turned to Happy Hour. Before he could speak, the entire world vanished.

***

It took longer than the promised hour to get back into the game.

Once the maintenance notice vanished from his forum account, he attempted to log back in. To his surprise, he found himself at Markal’s shop. Happy Hour was there as well, with Whiskers in her arms.

Markal himself stood by his workbench, though there were no signs of him working on any projects.

When his eyes met Jester, he smiled.

“Congratulations, my boy. It’s a big victory for you today.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jester tried not to look shocked as he stared around. The streets of the outskirts were near empty for the first time in what felt like an age. There were no signs of Chimera-bots stomping through the streets or voices complaining about needing to get past them.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Before he got too deep into his own thoughts, his messages exploded. His UI dinging as he checked. They piled up; the numbers growing seemingly by the second.

Each, by the timestamps at the top of them, sent before the forced log-out.

One sat at the top of the pile, marked Urgent and addressed from the company.

That one he opened first, though he suspected he knew what it would say. Still, he needed to see it for himself. It was an awful lot of money, digital and otherwise, after all.

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

Even with his suspicions, he still felt the need to read the message twice.

He appreciated their congratulations, of course, but it wasn’t the part of the message he focused on. They were paying him hush money. An additional five-hundred for his trouble. More like, so he didn’t sue the company for harassment.

Not that he’d win. He knew that. Still, it would be a potential black eye, depending on what evidence he could bring to light.

Thus, the five-hundred dollars compromise.

Jester wasn’t overly proud. He’d take an extra five-hundred.

Though in some ways he wished it’d been in credits. One-hundred thousand credits was nice for sure. However, he was going to blow through it quickly. With trembling hands, he reached down and plucked his credit satchel off his belt.

It was still the same as ever. A little banged up, but still useful.

There was one change, though.

To represent the change of his finances, the satchel now bulged. Credits appearing to burst from the top, though they wouldn’t fall even if he turned the satchel over. As he examined it, a small pop-up came into view.

A simple screen that simply informed him of the satchel’s new contents—One-hundred thousand credits.

All of it was there, ready and waiting for him to make any purchase he desired.

Jester couldn’t help it, and he took a deep breath.

Then he started laughing.

His laughter filled the room as he half collapsed, half sat. The concrete floor wasn’t the most comfortable, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Jester wasn’t sure anything did as he put his face in his hands.

Happy Hour placed a hand on his shoulder as he continued to laugh. That didn’t stop him. Instead, it seemed to double his volume.

The sheer stress combined with the entire situation hitting him at once.

As it petered out, he looked up at Happy Hour’s smiling face. Her red-eyes a shade too blank, but he found he didn’t mind. That was normal for her, after all. How she was supposed to be.

On her shoulder, Whiskers let out a meow.

His aluminum coated fangs bared as he let out a yawn. An action that made Jester wonder if he’d woken the robopet. Though he doubted it. There was no anger in the previous meow.

Nearby, Markal stood, arms folded, as he watched Jester. When their gazes met, the old man formed a gap tooth smile.

“You almost done, boy? Keep carrying on like that, and you’ll scare off my other customers.”

“Sorry Markal. I should make it up to you, shouldn’t I?”

As he spoke, he got to his feet, Happy Hour lending him a helping hand. He smiled at her before he turned back to the older NPC. His satchel weighed nothing, but it still somehow seemed heavier in his hands.

A physical representation of what was going to happen next.

With a sigh, he cleared his throat and looked towards Markal. It was time to tick an item off his to-do list. One that had been on it since he’d pulled Happy Hour out of The Junkyard for the first time.

Which made her standing by his side for this appropriate in his view.

His gaze went back to the floating numbers and a part of him rebelled at the idea. It was a lot of money. Money he could spend on almost anything. That included the meal he’d be sharing with his friends after this.

Still, he wanted this done.

If nothing else, at least the idea wouldn’t be hanging over his head.

A metallic hand shoved him forward and when he turned back, he saw Happy Hour grinning. She flashed him a thumbs-up and waved him forward. He turned back to Markal and sucked in a deep breath.

“Sir, if it’s not too much trouble. I’d like to ask you something.”

Markal uncrossed his arms and nodded. “What can I help you with, boy? You planning another project you want my help with?”

“Yes, and also no.”

Jester tried not to fidget as he spoke. This was an NPC, yes. However, it felt like he was asking for something precious from the old man. An improper or basic request to buy the store would be wrong.

At least to him.

“It would be an honor if you would allow me to continue on the legacy of this place. To buy it from you and use it to paint new projects. To run and help those in the Outskirts decorate whatever robots they bring to me.”

His words came out in a rush, and he felt almost drained once he said them.

Markal continued to do nothing but stand there. That gap-toothed smile on his face as he eyed the nearby workbench. Without saying a word, he moved towards it and sat in one of the rickety chairs.

The other he kicked out towards Jester with a nod.

“Sit.”

Jester sat, and Happy Hour took her normal position behind him. To his surprise, Whiskers jumped from her shoulder onto his lap. There the robopet circled before settling down. Soft synthesized snores coming from him.

Markal steepled his fingers.

“You wish to buy my store, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was silence in the room as Markal seemed to contemplate the offer. Jester did his best not to fidget. Instead, he took comfort in the presence of Happy Hour behind him. Time seemed to stretch as he waited for the NPC top say something.

Say anything either way at this point.

“You’re a loyal customer to me, Jester. You always have been.” Markal leaned back in his chair, eyes seeming to look somewhere past. “You never cheated me. Never stole. Always worked hard at whatever task I put you on, too.”

At those words, his gaze flicked to Happy Hour.

“You even helped me with a project I believed would never get finished.”

Jester stayed quiet, hoping all of this was leading to a yes. Though he didn’t want to speak and potentially jinx it.

“I believe that with your skill and work ethic, you would be a good fit. Would you be willing to discuss terms?”

With a grin, Jester leaned forward, and started haggling.

***

It’s taken what felt like hours for them to finish the negotiations.

In reality, Jester knew it’d been a few minutes at most. The game having set all the terms long before he’d even asked the initial question. There was no chance RagerSystems would want to lose out on money because a player was an excellent negotiator.

Still, Markal was keen to point out any future issues or potential changes that would need to be made.

One surprise from the meeting was Markal’s statement that he would stick around the store to help as needed. He wouldn’t be taking on new projects of his own, of course. That kind of work was for Jester to complete.

However, he could take a message for such things and help with small detail work.

Jester could already fell Kylee’s jealously from where he sat.

Stores built from Players from the ground up could hire on NPC assistants for a steep fee. One that was almost never worth it unless the shop was incredibly prosperous. Markal didn’t need to be paid. As a legacy NPC, he’d simply be sticking around.

They sealed the deal with a handshake.

Markal smiled as they both stood. “It’ll be good to see some new ideas coming into these walls. I hope it serves you well, boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

From beside him, Happy Hour dipped into a low curtsy. “From me as well. We hope to do this place and you, proud.”

Laughter escaped from Markal’s lips, and he waved her away.

“None of that now. You have both been good to and for me. This will be a fun new change.”

A new icon appearing in his vision caught Jester’s attention. As Happy Hour and Markal discussed the possibility of serving tea, he checked the new entry.

The symbol was small. A tiny key. When he clicked on it, information spilled across his UI. There wasn’t much of it, and he got the gist with little effort. This icon would allow him to set store security settings as well as unlock and lock any doors.

There was also a section for him to change the name of the store.

Jester paused at that. It wasn’t unusual for a player to buy a place like this and rebrand it. Several of the more prominent clubs and lounges went through similar shifts. Players preferred putting their own names up.

He closed the message, changing nothing.

If that was something he was going to do, it would be after discussion with Happy Hour at the very least.

Plus, if his full plan went through, he’d get a chance to make his mark in that way. No need to take away Markal’s legacy. Especially as the NPC was going to be sticking around. Sure, it might cause some confusion at first.

However, he didn’t mind. It would be an interesting talking point.

As he thought about the next stage of his plan, he looked towards his credit satchel.

While it still bulged, it wasn’t as much as it was before. That made sense, seeing as it was lighter now—eighty-thousand credits lighter. Not that the number stressed him out particularly. The twenty-thousand that remained was more than he’d ever held before.

Money that would go towards something for Happy Hour.

Well, that and the dinner he’d be buying for his friends later that night. Multiple messages already were pending answers for the location of that. Though Jester knew where they would end up.

Captain Cogsworth of the Steam Veiled Showboat was already asking when Happy Hour would make a reappearance.

“Happy Hour?” he called over when there was a lull in the conversation.

She turned to him and waved.

“Jester, how can I help?”

“Was thinking of hitting up the Showboat for dinner. They might ask you to perform again. Is that ok?”

Her smile at the idea let him know the answer before her words did. Not that he didn’t still wait for that as well.

“I’d be glad too if they’ll have me.”

She started smoothing out her outfit as she spoke. The small stars shifting away from her hands before returning to their previous position.

With that answered, Jester shot off a quick message.

In less than five minutes, Captain Cogsworth was confirming a private table for his entire party. For free provided Happy Hour was willing to get on stage.

Jester confirmed she would be without hesitation.

After he’d finished sorting out their eating arrangements, he started to message the rest. Everyone sending him times they could be there by. It took some sorting, but eventually they were all agreeing to meet at the steamboat’s gangplank in around six-hours.

All that settled, Jester settled into a chair in his new place of business.

His fingers roamed through the draws until he found the paints. Once they were on the desk, he turned to Markal.

“So, what projects do we have to work on while we wait?”

Time flew by as he finished the small NPC ordered project Markal was working on before. They were all simple decal work. No single piece taking more than half an hour at most.

He’d finished adding the last red stripes onto a motorized horse’s leg when Happy Hour tapped him on the shoulder.

“Jester, it’s time.”

“Right, one second.”

With one last glance over to make sure it was done, Jester rose from his seat. He placed the piece in the box labeled completed and waved to Markal.

“We’ll be heading off. Don’t stay up working too late.”

“Worry about yourself, boy.” Markal didn’t look up from the technical manual he’d been reading.

Though it was tempting, he decided not to turn on any of the store’s security features. He wouldn’t need any of them where he was.

There was nothing to steal, and anyone determined to cause trouble would. Plus, Markal would be a witness to any potential issues. The old NPC settling into his chair to work on some basic tasks.

Happy Hour fell into her normal position as he walked into the new throng of players.

All around him was awash with red armbands. Chimera-bots of all shapes and sizes once more roamed the streets.

However, it didn’t feel as busy as it used too.

Nor was there as much of a tension in the air.

Jester gave it two days before everyone went back to normal. For the moment, he assumed everyone was being hyper vigilant. He’d not gone offline to check, but he was willing to bet they banned multiple players outright.

That should keep the more vocal of those who were upset by his victory at bay.

As they moved through the streets, some people stopped to cheer his name. Others slapped him on the back or badgered Happy Hour was question. All in all, quite the change from the normal scorn he faced.

Even when they passed into Geartown, the response they got, for the most part, was positive.

Those upset by their victory simply ignored them or glared in their direction. No one even made any of the usual comments they faced. Jester was glad for it. That would mean there shouldn’t be any issues within the restaurant, either.

Which, considering Madame Merriam was coming along, would be a good thing. She’d been through enough.

As he reached the floating restaurant, he smiled to see Tiffany waiting for him.

With little care about what people thought, he picked up the pace. Happy Hour trailing behind him, carrying Whiskers at a respectable distance.

Tiffany hugged him, and he hugged her back, laughing.

“You’re ok then?” He asked once she released him.

“Dude, come on. Was there any doubt? What about you?”

He looked around to see the rest of the group approaching.

Jester grinned at her.

“I’ll answer that one over dinner.”