The lead up to the start of The Final Cup wasn’t anything special.
With how well documented his opponent’s fights were, spying was off the table. Jester doubted Lexington would change his strategy now. Not with how overwhelming his domination of the Steampunk Slammer turned out to be.
Besides, their fight was about more than winning a simple battle.
For Lexington, this bout was an opportunity to prove his superiority over a Scrapper. To show everyone exactly why players like Jester should remain at the bottom of the barrel. His victory would prove that credits were the true show of social class within the game.
Jester’s victory condition was simple. He wanted to embarrass Lexington as much as possible.
A smile formed on his face every time he thought about what it would be like to watch the smug git lose. Lexington staring in stunned shock as Happy Hour used Rippertooth as a footrest.
Plus, revenge. It would be nice to watch the mechanical mutt that chased him fail on such a highly viewed stage.
Thus, instead of worrying pointlessly about the fight. Jester let himself relax and spend his days enjoying the game.
He worked with Markal in the mornings. The old NPC showing him a variety of insider tricks and tips to running the business. Even with his art degree, Jester picked up a few more techniques.
Whenever he wasn’t at the shop, he was out with friends.
Tiffany, mostly. Together, they would walk the city or hang out in her small home. While he wouldn’t say their relationship was progressing quickly, it was going somewhere.
Happy Hour would stay and man the storefront while he was out on those.
Kylee pulled him away too. She’d stick Happy Hour on a diagnostic bench, while they talked shop. The mechanic studying and working on a variety of new tools and items.
Dam13n dragged both of them to various clubs around Geartown. All, Jester eventually noticed, contained stages or some kind of performance elements. These ranges from barbershop quartets to Vampire laden murder mysteries.
He couldn’t help but smile any time someone begged Happy Hour for help. Word of her escapades on the Steam Veiled Showboat must have spread.
When none of his other friends were drawing his attention, he made sure they spent time outside the store. He would walk alongside Happy Hour, Whiskers balanced on her shoulder. Together they would explore Geartown, or visit Andry and Mistletail.
Multiple times would ask for advice or help whenever they loitered around The Outskirts.
Meat Cutes was a regular stop for them now. The tea and cakes becoming a staple of his virtual diet.
Madame Merriam’s store was now the opposite. They visited irregularly, and even when they did, it was never for long.
Between the attention of Captain Cogsworth and the amount of business she was receiving, she simply didn’t have the time. Not that she was ever keen on kicking them out when they stopped by.
At one of their gatherings at the Dollhouse, Debrah mentioned it was the happiest she’d seen the woman in years.
It was Madame Merriam they visited first on the day of the event.
She was as busy as always, but was prompt in handing over Happy Hour’s last outfit. Jester eye’d it, before he placed it in his inventory. They planned on keeping it hidden this time. Thus, when they left, Happy Hour remained in her star covered waitress uniform.
Side by side, they walked to the arena. Whiskers meowing whenever one of them stopped giving him the attention he believed he deserved.
Among the packed streets, players tossed insults. Individuals shouting from the anonymity of the crowd. To Jester’s delight, he heard others shouting them down. Some even called out greetings or congratulations.
Warmth filled Jester as he moved through them.
He kept his eyes peeled for the painter, but didn’t see her again. Which was a shame. He’d wanted another of her pieces.
The memory of her first outing among this kind of crowd came to mind. Him giving furtive, scared glances while she trailed behind in her cloak and shades. Whiskers was on her shoulder than too, he remembered.
Not that he’d known until a fair way into the trip.
After finally pushing their way through the crowd, they arrived at The Copper Coliseum.
A red carpet created a line towards the door. Security banisters he’d seen at award shows surrounded it. Players pushed against them, held back by security avatars.
Around the area, squat white and blue robots rolled around on small wheels. They waved truncheons at anyone who came too close.
“They really didn’t want a repeat of the riot, did they?” He whispered to Happy Hour.
“Seems not.”
Before he could continue the conversation, one of the security officers moved over. They were tall, dressed in black tactical gear and with a mirrored visor. Between the tactical gear, the voice synthesizer, and the lack of name badge, he couldn’t identify if they were a normal NPC or some kind of robot themselves.
“You are Jester St’Servo?”
“Yes.” Jester nodded and waved to Happy Hour beside him. “This is Happy Hour.”
“We’ve been expecting you. Please, follow me.”
With that, they turned on their heel and started down the carpet. Jester followed suit, though he noticed Happy Hour lagging behind. Players were crowding forward, screaming her name. Most not even in an angry tone.
One younger boy pushed his way to the front and held out a pen and paper.
“Sign my book!”
Jester paused, watching her move over to the boy. Each step was graceful, a miniature dance. Her hands plucked up the pen, and with a flourish, she signed the book. As she did, another player tried to rush the barricade.
This was a woman wearing a lime green motorbike helmet.
He didn’t have time to see what she was carrying before security pushed her back. Jeers and cheers filled the crowd at that, and he stepped forward to grab Happy Hour’s wrist.
“Come on,” He said. “Let’s get inside.”
Somewhere from in the crowd, someone started tossing items. Items shaped to appear as adult toys mostly, though there were water balloons mixed in. Players shrieked as water splashed over them.
Security stepped in, and Jester and Happy Hour moved inside as quickly as they could.
The waiting area was bare.
A single NPC was at the desk, one he was quite familiar with. As they approached the desk, he called out a greeting.
“Hey, Chester.”
“Jester. Happy Hour. Welcome.”
To his surprise, he didn’t hear the normal voice crack he’d been expecting. Instead, the NPC seemed calmer somehow.
“Can we go in, or do we need to wait out here?”
“No sir. Fell free to enter when you like. Some of the other competitors are already here. Please head directly to the teleportation room, however. We want to get these matches underway as soon as possible.”
“Can do.”
“It’s nice to see you again,” Happy Hour said as they moved away.
“You too ma’am.”
Security watched them until they moved through the doors into the waiting room. Chester’s words proved true. No one was loitering inside. So, as instructed, they simply moved to the door.
It swung open with a touch.
“Ladies first.” Jester nodded towards Happy Hour.
“Thank you.”
As she did, he turned and shut the door. He’d let her get to change before he went in behind her. She could do it as an instant process, but he knew that wasn’t her style.
When he heard the soft tap on the door, he opened it to step inside.
His breath vanished from his body.
All of her outfits worked for her. Madame Merriam designed them with her in mind, after all. However, this one?
This one appeared as though it was her destiny to walk onto this stage wearing it exactly.
She’d done her hair up in a tight bun, careful to not let a single loose strand out of place. Her pink shoes were no longer childish. Now they appeared professionally crafted. Curated for the look she was trying to pull off.
His eye roamed over the outfit as though it was the first time seeing it. Once more, taking in each of the intricate details.
The sequins that covered the bodice shifted ever so slightly in hue. Though it was now at a slightly faster speed. While less subtle, it made the wave of changing color more obvious to anyone watching.
Which, Jester supposed, made sense. The crowd would see her more clearly on the screen during the actual fight. Thus, the effect needed to be more obvious for those watching at home.
Madame Merriam also added more arcane runes to the tut itself. Each section of the flowing fabric now glowing with each shift in color.
All of this together made Happy Hour look complete.
“How is it?”
Her voice contained a hint of shyness he didn’t think he’d ever heard before.
“Amazing. They’re going to love you.”
He couldn’t help but mimic her smile. In her arms, Whiskers meowed his own approval.
With a flicker and a buzz, the TV screens turned on. Sandra was standing in the middle of the ring, sand surrounding her. She was smiling in the face of the roaring crowd.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, and others! Welcome. Welcome one and all to The Final Cup!”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
***
Jester wrangled Whiskers out of Happy Hour’s arms as he took his seat.
Once Whiskers settled, she moved to the teleportation platform. Each movement causing her sequined outfit to shine under the lights. He couldn’t wait to see it outside.
On the screen, Sandra started her introduction of all the participants of the event. Her tone was upbeat, though she was rushing her words. As though she was being told to get through this section as quickly as possible.
From the way the crowd murmured, he couldn’t blame her.
Everyone who cared already knew who was competing. They were hot topics on the forums. Not a day having gone by where screenshots and videos weren’t being posted.
DangerDeathless, PollyBoard, Geardude89, Lexington and himself. All of them were an endless source of debate.
When the introductions were done and portraits of each player hung in the air, she moved on to the rules.
They were simple.
A one-on-one fight, with none of the gimmicks he’d been relying on so far. Which was a shame. Though it would be nice that Lexington couldn’t claim they’d cheated to win.
DangerDeathless, interestingly, wouldn’t be taking part in the first qualifying rounds. Instead, he would fight each of the winners back to back. Sandra claimed it was his right as the victor of the Technomancer’s Cup.
Jester, however, knew the truth.
In this game, Credits were king.
With the amount that DangerDeathless spent, anyone who wasn’t in his weight class didn’t have a shot. This was going to be a slaughter. That was fine for him though., He didn’t care about trying to beat the elite players of the game.
No, he’d set his sights on a much more achievable goal—Lexington.
A goal he’d get to achieve sooner rather than later.
Sandra finished the rules and waved her hands. Their portraits twisted and twirled through the air as the brackets appeared. He was up first right after the announcements finished.
“We’re fighting first,” Happy Hour announced.
Excitement filled her tone as she stared up at the screen. Her new shoes tapped against the ground as though she was resisting the urge to leap forward.
He snorted with laughter at her annoyed humph. Instead of starting the fights, Sandra launched into a quick explanation about the history of the game. She spoke about past updates and added features.
Booing and jeers came from the crowd. Not that it stopped the Head of Public Relations. No matter how much the crowd complained, she continued on.
This was an obvious stalling tactic, though Jester couldn’t figure out for what.
He turned her out and turned to Happy Hour. Her arms formed an o shape over her head and she’d risen onto her toes with her legs crossed.
“How are you feeling?”
She looked at him as her heels hit the ground, and she shifted forwards. One arm stretched out in front of her while the other rose behind.
“I’m well. Thank you for asking, Jester.”
Whiskers let out a yawn, which drew his attention. Those blue eyes focused on Happy Hour as she moved through a variety of poses. His head moving up and down in time with the ripple of color.
“Jester?” When he looked back at her, he could see a nervous expression on her face. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She paused as she shifted her position. Her other leg was now behind her, both arms now shifting out from her sides.
“Can we win?”
The question shocked him. Happy Hour’s tone was cautious, worried. Her eyes were still on the screen where Sandra was now explaining the magic update.
To tell the truth, he wasn’t sure. Rippertooth really ripped through his opponents. However, there wasn’t anything complicated about the mechanical mutt. It didn’t have the tactics his other opponents could use. Plus, Madame Merriam assured him this outfit would make Happy Hour equal to anything Lexington could field.
Still, he wasn’t totally sure.
As he looked into her red eyes as she spun towards him on her toes, he knew he didn’t want to lie.
“Maybe.”
She frowned.
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m not.” He shrugged. “Rippertooth is powerful. He’s fast, and if he can get a grip on you, it may be all over.”
Happy Hour opened her mouth, but Jester raised a hand to stop her.
“But. They haven’t fought you. You can think tactically, and your equipment is solid. Even if you don’t win, it won’t be any kind of slaughter fest. Besides, I trust in you more than I trust in that bucket of bolts.”
He smiled at her as he waved at the screen. Debrah’s words about needing spectacle coming back to him.
“Those players out there? Believe me. They aren’t here to watch a dog.”
“Thank you, Jester.”
Rebounding to her toes, she spun. With a small leap, she popped the blades hidden in her shoes out. When she landed on the point, she continued to spin. Somehow gaining momentum, she didn’t have before.
That was a feature Kylee was proud of. Though she wouldn’t explain how it worked. That, and the fact there was no longer a button. Happy Hour could pop them in and out with a simple thought.
“How do those feel, by the way?” He asked as he gestured towards the shoes.
“So much better.”
He caught her smile even with the spin.
Sandra continued to talk, and they did the same. Right until the end of the announcement. The crowd bursting into applause at the end of the speech drew both their attention.
With a bow, the Head of Public relations vanished.
“Good luck.”
It was all he could get out before the platform shone and teleported Happy Hour away.
On the screen she appeared on the sands a solid distance away from Rippertooth. Even over the crowd, Jester could hear the dogs’ whining growl. He could imagine Lexington smirking at the sight.
Shithead.
“Welcome all!” Sandra’s voice filled the arena. “For our first match, we have Rippertooth and Happy Hour. Give our participants a cheer.”
The crowd exploded into noise as the status of both robots appeared floating over the arena. A smaller version appeared in Jester’s hand.
[https://i.imgur.com/G0cwuSJ.png]
It shocked him how many high ratings showed on Happy Hour’s side of the board.
Though her health was still lower than he would have liked. As he expected, if Rippertooth got a hold of her, she was toast. Though even with the speed difference, he doubted she would make that easy.
Rippertooth was amazing in a straight run. However, from experience, he knew the robot dog couldn’t do corners well. All things he’d told her about.
Both of the robots stared at each other while Sandra finished the countdown.
Happy Hour’s out rippled, the line of color flowing like water. Rippertooth’s mouth opened slightly as he emanated a low growl. Sunlight shone off his teeth. A sight that made their sharp nature even more obvious.
Neither moved so much as an inch.
Jester could feel the tension from the crowd.
Could tell everyone was waiting for the metaphorical starting pistol to fire. He wanted it, too. To finally find out if he could actually take Lexington in a fight.
His mind wandered, and he wondered what his opponent was thinking. If they were as nervous as he suddenly found himself. Jester knew it was a silly thing to worry about. Happy Hour would do the best she could, as she always did.
A part of him hoped that shopkeeper was here.
If he could grab a picture of her facing down his rival like this, he would. It would go right next to the picture of her dodging the fireball. Provided Debrah remained onboard with his plans.
Sandra said zero, and the silence that had taken hold of the arena lifted.
The crowd roared, and with a snarling bark, Rippertooth launched itself forward. Sand flew from the sheer force of the dog’s paws as he rocketed towards his prey.
Jester frowned as he watched the mechanical greyhound run towards Happy Hour. There was something off about the movements. They were slower than they should have been. Enough so that Happy Hour managed a small bow before her opponent even got into range.
She dodged with ease, her foot flashing up as she skipped to the side.
With a scraping sound, the knife in her show cut a groove into Rippertooth’s side.
The fight was on.
***
At least it should have been.
Roars and cheers came from the crowd as Rippertooth continued to move.
The mechanical dog didn’t so much as turn and look at his attacker as he rushed past. His paws dug into the loose sand as he propelled himself forward, his barking filled with joy.
His mechanical ears were back, and his tail was wagging as he scrambled to a stop. At his speed, he kicked dust and sand into the air, causing a dust cloud to form. Jester frowned at the display.
This wasn’t the cold and serious robot he was used to seeing.
Happy Hour continued to keep her foot raised as she shifted into another pose. Her back arching, and her head turned to keep a watch on her opponent. Cheers came from the crowd, as Rippertooth came bounding out of the dust cloud.
Eyes locked on Happy Hour.
However, this time Jester was sure. Lexington’s robot wasn’t running anywhere near its full speed.
It was fast, yes.
But Jester knew from experience it should be far faster. It’d chased him directly, after all. While it couldn’t turn on a dime, on a straight path, it should have been almost impossible to dodge.
Happy Hour did it with ease.
She shifted to a standing pose and moved to the side. Rippertooth barked with excitement again as he ran past once more. In response, Happy Hour hummed.
It was an upbeat tune with a high tempo. A tune designed to dance, though, to show the sheer joy of movement. Though it still contained a sense of class. The song reminded Jester of movies he’d seen where rich patrons went to recitals.
As Rippertooth ran in circles, chasing his own tail, Happy Hour danced.
She flowed through a series of poses as she moved towards her opponent. There were no signs of the earlier timidity he’d seen in the teleportation room.
Happy Hour was beaming, her expression all that was needed to see how much she loved to dance. To perform for an audience who cheered and clapped for her. A set of actions the current crowd was more than eager to provide.
Each of her movements was grace personified. All appearing as though she’d spent a lifetime practicing for this moment.
Which, Jester considered as he watched her, she might have done. DollmakerMC had named her main attack style Death Ballet. It made him wonder if such an outfit was part of DollmakerMC’s plan all along.
He couldn’t help but notice how natural it looked on her.
The ripple of color continued as she moved through the sand as she kicked up. A spinning and leaping pink blur that was unaffected by the dust in the air.
Players cheered as she landed next to Rippertooth, back arching as her leg came out to kick the dog. Sunlight glinting off the blade that popped out of her shoe. Jester opened his mouth to cheer when he saw it.
She’d missed.
Rippertooth was gone, shooting off as though on a racetrack.
Ears back and tongue out as he raced to the other side of the arena. With another scrambling stop, he turned to Happy Hour and barked excitedly.
Jester grimaced at the display.
One more Happy Hour showed off her skills. Each section of her dance was perfect, as she used the sandy arena like a stage. This was her performance, her recital. Rippertooth was little more than a back-up dancer.
Which made it especially annoying when he seemed to refuse to play his part.
No matter how Happy Hour kicked or attacked, he wouldn’t stay still. It was like a dog playing chase with a child. He would run far enough that he’d force Happy Hour to move. Then, when she drew near, he would shoot off again.
This wasn’t a fight.
It was a mockery.
Jester could feel the flames of irritation burning in his chest. He couldn’t figure out what Lexington was playing at. He’d expected this fight to be short in some ways. For Rippertooth to go all out near the beginning.
All the dog needed to do was latch on to her, and Happy Hour would have issues fighting back.
However, this strategy didn’t leave her much else to do but chase. To show that she couldn’t keep up.
That thought hit him like a sack of bricks. Lexington didn’t care about winning this. He wanted to show Happy Hour’s inferiority. All of this was nothing more than an excuse to embarrass her in front of an audience.
What was worse was it was working.
No matter how beautiful her dance was, how graceful the movements or stylish the twirls. Those players in the audience came here to see a show. To watch a fight between two robotic champions.
Not for a dog to get chased around a field for twenty minutes.
Happy Hour’s smile never wavered as she continued to chase Rippertooth. Her movements never changing style. Though he could hear a change in the song. It was a slower now. A sadder song.
As the song slowed, so did she.
Rippertooth seemed to sense this, as he barked and shifted about as he waited for Happy Hour to reach him.
After their fifth go around, she simply stopped.
With her arms raised, she faces away from Rippertooth as she looked at the audience.
“To all who came to watch my show, I thank you.”
Confused shouts came from the crowd as she dropped into an elegant curtsy. Happy Hour held the pose, not even looking at the excitable dog that ran about behind her.
“This performance has not gone as planned. But I hope you enjoy the next show. A one Android display of the rage you all feel. Please, let us begin.”
Her song changed.
It was still in that classy classical style. However, this was harder. The pitch rose and fell at irregular intervals. A heartbeat pumping out of rhythm. Her movements continued to flow, but they lost that touch of grace.
She didn’t so much as leap across the arena, landing perfectly on her toes. Now she seemed to throw herself forward. Knives out with every movement.
Even the way her arms moved was sharp and precise.
This entire dance was anger personified. Jester could see the person raging behind the movements.
The audience roared their approval.
They could see it too. How her dance built up and released their anger for them. Players chanted her name. Scream for her victory.
At that, it was like someone flipped a switch.
Rippertooth let out an angry growl and ran forward. No longer the playful dog from before. It was back to the exact hunting dog Jester remembered.
He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the dog charge the rapidly shifting Happy Hour.
This time, the fight really was on.