“Always waiting.” Pham was saying as Peter logged in.

“Waiting for what?” He asked as his body faded in. He thought it a bit wierd that sound always came in faster than sight but in a world of magic he wasn’t going to question it.

“In this case, you, dumbass,” Pham pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on. “We got your message but you didn’t show yesterday at all.”

“WE didn’t get the message,” Dani pouted. “You did. Warren did. I had to find out by showing up to an empty tomb with a note stuck to the wall.”

Peter leaned back and looked around the area where they were standing. They were in an alcove on the edge of a landing halfway up a very wide flight of stairs. People walked past them up and down the steps to access the chapel at the top which Peter recognised as the one at the entrance of the city. He had expected to log in sitting in a pew inside and hadn’t realised login and logout points could differ. Fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky ahead of the sea breeze. Unlike the real world, where ocean breezes brought hellish humidity and heralded heatwaves, here it was a nice cooling zephyr. Out in the street horses clip clopped on the clean cobbles. Even the cloud of black smoke belched out of a steam bus chugging past faded quickly. In a stark contrast to the lower levels they’d visited a few days before a pair of shining brass and copper quadrupedal machines were sweeping the sidewalk as people stepped primly around them. It was giving Eloi versus Morlocks vibes and Peter wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“I’m sorry Dani,” Peter apologised distractedly. “I’m having a hard time at home and sometimes I forget things.”

“If you wanted to, you’d remember.” Dani thrust out her bottom lip in a pout.

“”That’s a load of crap,” Pham interjected. “I have the spicy brain status ailment and I have even forgotten to breathe before. Just because it’s important doesn’t mean you’ll remember.” He paused for a second. “That’s not defending Peter though, you really should find a way to let us all know what’s going on. We all waited for an hour yesterday before we said bugger it and slogged over to pick up the new armour kits. Woz has yours.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Warren clanked out through the main doors of the church. He had on his hulking plate mail that he’d been wearing the day Peter had first met him though the helm was tucked under his arm as he ran his fingers through his hair. The metal had been burnished to a high shine to the point that people were casting surreptitious glances his way in order to check themselves out in the reflection.

“Oi, Fabio, you look ridiculous!” Pham shouted at Warren. “Quit posing and get over here.”

Warren’s face darkened and he jammed the helmet back on his head and stomped over to where the rest of the team were waiting. “Ye dinnae hafta do tha’,” he grumbled. “A simple ‘we’re here’ would do.” He opened his inventory, snatched out a bundle and thrust it at Peter. “Here, put this on.”

The bundle unfolded in Peter’s hands to form a lumpy and misshapen humanoid-ish suit. It reminded him of the uniforms the Ukrainians had worn when fighting in the nuked territories of what used to be Russia. It had reinforced joints at the knees and elbows and rings to connect the gloves and booties. This thing is like a leather onesie, Peter thought as he tried vainly to jam an arm down the sleeve. And I’M the baby that I’m trying to get into it. “What’s got your knickers in a twist Mister Grumpy?”

“You, ya wee daftie! Cannae turn up on the right day even!” Warren folded his arms with a screech of metal on metal. “And now ye cannea even dress yersael.”

Peter stuck out his tongue and continued to struggle into the outfit. The entire exercise made him appreciate games where you simply had to equip an item from the inventory and it would appear on your body. He was almost done and was twisting about trying to pull the zipper up the back when he put a foot on a step that wasn’t there and found himself falling. He tumbled head over heels, bouncing off of nearly every step and rolling to a stop at the foot of a very familiar set of priestly robes. He lay on the ground and let the pain be washed away by nostalgia as he remembered his very first day in game.

“Greetings, Traveller. Do you require assistance, or healing?” Even the voice was the same. The robed figure extended a gloved hand but Peter declined.

“I’m good, thank you.” Peter dusted himself off and limped back up to the landing where his friends were laughing their asses off. “Orright you lot. Very funny. Laugh at my pain. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. Or, I kinda was but, you know, in and out while ducking my mum and cousins attention.”

Dani was the first to calm herself and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “In and out? What do you mean, mate?”

Peter opened his inventory and pulled out a book. “I copied this from my grandad’s textbooks.” He handed the book to Pham. “You’re the mathemagician and mad scientist, Pham. Grandad was a sparky, an electrician, and he left behind a library on electrical theory and application. You said the tech in the bunker was like old school or something?”

Pham took the book and flipped through it. “No school like it,” he said distractedly. “Yeah, this’ll help immensely. You said you copied it down? It looks just like system generated books. Your calligraphy skill must be off the charts. HOW have you not levelled up yet?”

“No XP from writing a book unless you do something with it,” Peter explained. “Books that get read earn XP, not much but a trickle every time someone does. You want to level up by selling books, you have to write a whole library of them.”

“How’d you find that out?” Warren rumbled. “I’ve never seen that anywhere.”

“Rosie told me back in Averton.”

“Ah.”

The moment of mutual clarity was shattered by Pham slamming the book shut. “Are you freaking kidding me?” He shouted to the heavens in the same tone Kirk reserved for shouting “Khaaaaahhnnn!”

“You ok there, mate?” Dani took a step back, hand on the hilt of one of her many daggers.

“This changes everything,” Pham explained without explaining anything, waving the book under everyone's noses. “Do you see?”

“Uh, no?” They said in unison.

“Jinx, you owe me a coke,” Peter prodded Warren who just frowned at him.

“Not the time. Go on Pham.”

“Ok, so when we first went to the Arcology I was flying blind,” the words poured out of the excited elf’s mouth. “I was treating the wiring like a puzzle because that’s what I thought it was. A test of skill or intelligence like any other in a game. But just a quick scan of this tells me it’s just wiring. Literally just wiring. If I follow the standard here, we can probably… ok I can probably get more doors to open, some or all of the traps deactivated or maybe even reset, and most of all, possibly even get the security system working for me instead of against.”

“You mean that we can get to the final boss room in days instead of a week this time?” Warren caught the fever from Pham. “I was pissed at Peter for slowing us down, but you’re telling me he’s saved us way more time than we lost waiting on him?”

“Wait, what?” Peter looked around, confused. “That’s what crawled up your butt and died? You thought I’d cost you the race? What about all the it’s a marathon not a sprint stuff?”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“You still have to run in a marathon,” Dani quipped.

“You know what a marathon is?” Pham asked, his flow broken.

Dani pouted. “I’m not some dullard from the backwoods. I have taken part in the weekly event, even.”

“The weekly race around the capital? The one held in every state on Saturday mornings? That event?” Wrinkles creased Pham’s brow as his eyebrows tried to climb his forehead.

“That’s the one. You get a bag of Philippides Nuts just for participating.”

Peter could see the cogs grinding in Pham’s head. To extend the metaphor, Dani had just thrown a handful of coarse grain sand into the machinery and the teeth were rapidly wearing away. Suddenly the wheels just let go entirely. “Whatever. Anyhoo, yes, we were losing before this. I know Woz isn’t the greatest at showing his emotions, but this was eating him up. Now we have an edge and we’re going to use it to cut a bitch.”

“Well, what’re we waiting for now?” Peter asked, finally getting the zipper on his back done.

“You. You need a mount or a vehicle. No more of this doubling or being carted.” Warren pointed down the road towards the front gate. You’ve got the money, you’re getting a vehicle today.”

Peter grumbled the whole way to the building down the road where the combined livery and mechanics workshop was situated. It was an impressive combination, with both stalls for mounts and hoists for working underneath vehicles. A burly being of indeterminate race was working in the last stall, their body hidden by a leather welder’s cape and their face by a shield with the darkened glass eyeholes. Four arms emerged from the cape, the upper two holding acetylene torches and the bottom two a pair of brazing rods, their tips glowing red hot.

“Hello there,” Warren bellowed over the cacophony of the garage.

The caped being coughed loudly and grated out a rough “General inquiries?”

“Sales,” Warren grabbed the reluctant Peter by the shoulder and pushed him forward. “This one is buying.”

Whipping the cape off with a flourish and tossing the tools aside, the figure broke into two separate beings, both roughly spherical in form with short, stocky legs and long gorilla-like arms. The upper one hung their mask on the fender of the car they’d been working on and leapt into the air, executing an impressive flip to land beside the lower one. Both bowed in perfect synchronicity. “Welcome to Viv and Victor’s Vehicles.”

“I’m Viv,” the one who had been on the bottom, now on the left, introduced herself. At least Peter assumed they were female, they had a higher voice and hints of makeup on their face. “I deal with all your biological mounts. Horses, scarabs, gryphons, you name it, we can feed it, heal it and house it. We don’t sell… difficult to ride… mounts to the inexperienced though, we have a reputation to uphold. By the looks of you, boyo, you’d fall off of a mare at a trot, so your choices are limited.”

Peter winced, then shrugged. “Fair. Ouch, but fair.”

“I’m Victor, and the same applies to the machines I have. We have a small selection of vehicles for the unlicensed, but if you want something with more power you’re going to have to take the tests and upgrade your drivers licence.”

“Seriously? What a crock,” Peter complained. “So, all I have to do to get a better animal is level up, but to get a better car I have to pass a test?”

“Woah, who said you could get a car?” Victor held up his hands in a cross in front of his body. “That’s a C class licence. You don’t even have your E class yet. For you, there is this.” He reached his ridiculouly long arm out and pulled something from a dark corner of the stall.

A scooter.

Peter felt a cold wave wash through his body. The shadows in the room lengthened. Victor suddenly wouldn’t meet his gaze and coughed nervously. “Is THAT THE ONLY THING YOU HAVE AVAILABLE?” Peter rasped out.

“Uh, honey?” Viv gently pushed her partner’s hand away, returning the accursed thing to the darkness from whence it came. “We do have that one other. The one out the back?”

“But that needs an eeee…yeah,” he cleared his throat and visibly changed tracks. “I’m sure we can make an exception.” Victor darted out of sight, using his arms as well as his legs in a gorilla-like locomotion.

Peter’s heart rate returned to normal. The shadows were once more just shadows and he heard sighs of relief from behind him. “What do you need an exception for?” He caught himself. “I mean, thank you. I hope I’m not causing too much trouble.”

“Vic will bring it out front, mister?” Viv gestured towards the street.

“It’s just Peter,” he supplied.

“Peter?” Viv repeated the name, sounding like she didn’t trust him. “Well, if you’re sure, Peter, then please come this way. As for what Vic was saying, we generally need to see at least an E class licence for this type of conveyance but we’re happy to look the other way just this once.” Viv seemed like she would rather be looking anywhere other than at him. She knuckled her way out to the kerb where Victor was just wheeling up a bone white bicycle.

It was an impressive piece, in the style of a vintage cruiser. The top bar fattened then narrowed as though it were a fuel tank of a motorcycle and the handlebars were long and swept back in what Harley riders often called an “ape hanger”. Resting between the handlebars was a horse skull, with a pair of lamps in the eye sockets. The front wheel was a pleasing fat tyre with smooth black rubber gripping surface, white walls and a disk brake. The rear wheel was even fatter, wider than Peter’s handspan when he ran his fingers across its slightly dusty surface. The hub was noticeably thicker than one would expect on a bicycle and the cog cassette had ten chunky gears driven by a chain almost but not quite as heavy as the one on Peter’s father’s motorcycle. That chain ran forward to a forward cassette of five, driven by a set of pedals with hefty arms. Everything about the bike was built a bit overscale, as though for a rider much heavier than Peter.

As a whole, it looked like the kind of bicycle that Ghost Rider would buy for their teenage child. Peter fell in love immediately. “Can I take it for a test ride?”

“Of course!” Victor replied immediately. He pulled out a cloth and polished the seat and grips. “Anything you want.”

Peter threw a leg over and lowered himself to the seat. He gently gripped the handles and examined the shift levers that controlled the gears. A complicated red rune near the lever on the right drew his attention. “What’s this?” he asked, gesturing towards it.

“We’re not sure,” Victor answered, wiping sweat from his brow with the cloth. “To be honest, I deal with machines and Viv with beasts. Neither of us knows much about magic, and it looks magical to us. Sir.”

In the background, Pham spat out a curse but Peter paid him no mind. “Well, we don’t do magic much either, but I’m sure we can figure something out. I’ll be back in a minute.”

With the bike in its lowest gear, it took almost no effort to get the weighty contraption rolling, but Peter could immediately see why the thing had so many cogs. With all his strength shoved into the pedals, he wound through the gears and was soon blasting along the road with people and shops blurring past. A gentle touch on the brake levers as he flicked back down to the lower gears brought him to a more sedate pace and he turned the bike around. “Looks like a fish, moves like a fish, steers like a whale,” Peter quoted one of his favourite books. On a main road designed to let two fully laden carts pass safely in opposite directions, he has only just managed to avoid needing to perform a three point turn.

Peter pulled up in front of the livery again, lowered the kickstand and stepped off the bike in the coolest way he could. The effect was slightly spoiled by the manic grin that threatened to split his head in half. “I’ll take it. How much?”

Several minutes and a significant sum of money later, all four were astride their respective mounts and headed out the gate. Peter was the only one having to provide his own locomotive power, but he felt it was totally worth it. Pham, Dani and Warren matched speed with him as he worked his way through the gears at his own pace, feeling out how much strength it took to speed up at a reasonable rate. The lack of screaming coupled with a decent speed was obviously an acceptable tradeoff for training time.

In fact, by the time Peter had reached top speed nearly thirty minutes later, Dani’s horse couldn’t keep up with him. Peter ratcheted back a couple notches to where it took very little input from him to keep his legs ticking over and nobody was being left behind. He breathed in the fresh air, rocking slightly to feel the bike respond beneath him the way his father did. The thick tyres took all of the little impacts from the road, leaving the ride buttery smooth. He spread his wings a little, cupping the wind and feeling the slight drag. A thought occurred to him and he extended his left wing a little further. The change in airflow pulled the bike left. Swapping wings pulled the bike to the right. Feeling adventurous, Peter let go of the handlebars and sat back in the seat, letting his wings make small adjustments to the steering. It was the closest he’d gotten to actual flying so far and Peter’s heart was overflowing with joy.

Pham came up on his left, Warren matched speed on his right. “Oi Woz! I think he likes it!” Pham shouted over the wind.

“Good. I was getting tired of dragging his arse across the countryside.” Warren looked around at the approaching mountain ranges. “Not long now, we’re almost at the Arcology again.”

Despite the relatively small amount of power he had been putting in to make his vehicle go, by the time they reached the wrecked doors of the Arcology Peter was out of breath and his legs ached. He could feel the tattoo on his arm trying to notify him of changes to his stats, but he was too tired to care. It wasn’t health-threateningly low, but he knew he’d tapped his stamina bar almost dry. He stepped off the bike, which promptly fell on him because he’d forgotten to put the stand down. His legs were jelly and collapsed under the minimal impact and he fell in the dust, cursing the whole way down.

The other three burst out laughing.

“I hate you guys,” Peter groused.

“Payback for the lightshow,” Dani replied, tears rolling down her cheeks.