Rick shook his head as he trudged away from the beach into the tall, dry grass. The ground got firmer as he went. What the hell is the Mark of Ditto? He had more on his mind than just that. Despite his wife’s condition, he still struggled with what he knew about Sonny Esposito. Can I really let myself be the reason he’s… god, what if he shows up dead afterward?
And then there was his wife, and their situation. She always wanted him to stay away when she felt completely broken. There was so much shame in the expressions of her face. She knew he still loved her, right? She’d told him she healed faster when he was away, that the shrinks made more progress.
The scan, and the treatment trial—would it help? His thoughts were a scrambled mess as he entered the low trees.
Bang!
The hard punch in the back of the head sent him tumbling, and his vision dimmed to a tunnel ringed in blackness and stars before it widened back up.
Reflexively, he rolled to get distance between himself and the unknown ambusher, and when he rose, he teetered and his head swam. He turned in time to see the next strike, a Muy Thia style hard knee—Jesus, he’s like glue!
He blunted the incoming knee, then pushed his hip into it, knocking the dark-haired man off balance. Instead of following up, he backed away. The man was in nothing but trunks and tightly wound hand wraps. The other fighter panted. He tried a real-life rush-down, but couldn’t follow through. Low stamina, maybe?
Rick darted in for a takedown—Muy Thai without ground techniques was a glass cannon build, whatever else it was. He ducked beneath his opponent’s half-powered elbow, taking it in the back as he bowled the wiry man over.
The AI bot tried to wriggle away, but Rick had guessed correctly—the man had no ground game. Two hammer strikes to the face stopped the struggle; the man lay inert for two or three seconds before he disappeared.
Victory!
He’d barely even gotten a look at him before it was done. Brushing the sand from his gi as he rose, Rick waited to see what the victory had won him.
He groaned—another stupid yellow icon. “Great.” He almost left it behind, but instead, he turned to examine it.
Cosmetic Item Acquired!
Tattoo!
Tutorial Initiated!
Tattoos are cosmetic-only, but they make you look like a bad-ass. The only rule of tattoos is that you can’t put them on your face. You are not a Maori Warrior.
“Another tattoo?” He shook his head. It was the fourth one in as many training days, and the tutorial wouldn’t go away. The system wanted him to have some ink, it seemed. He accepted the item, but like the other three tattoos, didn’t bother applying it.
He sniffed and blinked hard in an attempt to dispel the fatigue of so little sleep the night before. “Come on, Rick. You gotta make it to the middle this time. Seven days left, man.”
He continued down the path, more wary now, scanning from side to side. The game rarely presented enemies the same way twice in one match. It disappointed him that he’d been caught off-guard—the new-terrain-ambush wasn’t a new obstacle for him, and had he been thinking clearly, he’d never have been taken like that.
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You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The next threat he saw coming, as the AI bot made no attempt at deception. The woman was tall, far too tall for anyone who didn’t play basketball for a living. She stood before a bridge, and from a distance, she appeared clothed from head-to-toe in dark, skin-tight clothing. As he got closer, it became clearer how much the game loved tattoos. Looking every part the mid-2000s Hollywood rockabilly coquette, she shadow-boxed, as if waiting for an opponent—any opponent. Beautiful images of tropical flowers graced her toned arms, and she was so lean, her abdominal muscles peaked out beneath a crop-top sports bra.
Other than that, though, she appeared to be all business. Her dark hair was of short-medium length, framing her pale face, but not dropping low enough to brush her shoulders. She shot a cocky half-smile at him when he triggered her by crossing her alert range.
Krav? She had the look of a Krav Maga combatant. There were no hints of extravagant costuming. The ink was a clever way to project an attitude without giving up anything to wild hairstyles or clothing that could be easily gripped for leverage. Should have a shaved head if she’s really all about combat, though. “It’s a game,” he reminded himself.
She stepped in slowly, giving no hint of a hurry, and her grace projected confidence. She’s really built. He shook his head. Don’t fall in love with a fucking AI bot, doofus. Concentrate.
She began circling him, so he did the same, though they closed as they revolved. About two steps before she’d have been in striking range, he lunged. The mildest shock played across her face, but she twisted away and stepped back, out of reach of his left jab. Did she know he had the stamina to press? He pulled back instead of revealing it.
She tested him with a low kick, but he danced away, and unexpectedly, she moved in, her face flushed and alluring, like she was going to kiss him. Instead, she came up with an elbow he narrowly avoided.
He backed away.
Rick had worked hard to be equal parts striker and grappler. It was easy to grow too confident in one’s strikes, and there was a natural skill plateau for standing punches and kicks that didn’t exist in the art of grappling. Grappling had been difficult from the start, but once he’d gotten the basic concepts down, he only got better. He’d worked at some of the best striking arts, but he’d never relied on them. Instead, when there was only one opponent—which constituted the majority of his professional matches—going to ground quickly was the best option.
But the woman was tall and short-waisted, with long arms and legs—her reach was a natural advantage. If the game telegraphed techniques—
He pulled back, but not far enough, so she tagged him with a stunningly quick jab to the nose. Without conscious thought, he somersaulted backward, changed direction as he dove forward and to the side with another somersault, then got to his feet and juked sideways as he stood. The wind from her left-right jab brushed his skin, meaning she’d barely missed. As soon as he got her in his sight, he checked her forward, trying to knock her off her feet.
She stumbled, but he’d exhausted his stamina, so he backed away as quickly as he could without arresting the stat’s recovery.
Breathing heavily, she didn’t immediately pursue. My God, her arms are so long, and she’s graceful, like a cat who can—
Again, she closed the gap while he was distracted by her proportions, this time slamming the side of his jaw with a right hook.
Down he went, and though he tried to scramble, she was on him in an instant. He twisted and positioned himself sideways to her, but she rolled the rest of the way and got over him again, pressing her breasts down into his face. His body reacted. In any other context, lady…
He wiggled, but she locked him up with her tremendously long, strong legs. With her arm, she barred his throat and his world went dark.
When he rezzed back at the beach, Alex had words for him.
“What the actual fuck was that?” Her accusative eyes let him know she understood exactly what had happened.
He’d rezzed standing, and that made it difficult for Rick to hide the problem. “I’m…
“Aroused? Wow, dude.” Her eyes were wide.
He turned away. “Let’s just…”
She wouldn’t let it go. “Why don’t you just rub one out before—”
His voice was sing-songy. “Tried that!” He cleared his throat. “Can we—”
She placed her hand on his shoulder. His posture stiffened. “I know your wife is—”
“You don’t know anything about my wife,” he said.
Her tone of voice was conciliatory, “Okay, you’re right. I’m… I’m sorry.” She hadn’t moved her hand, and it drew his attention. He wanted it not to be there, and he wanted it to stay, or maybe even be joined by her other hand, and then—
“I’ll work through it.” He grabbed her hand, turned, and tried to let go, but she wouldn’t let him.
“If you need help…” She looked directly into his eyes.
He gripped her hand and let it go, and this time, she let him.
“I can’t.”
“It’s just cyber, man. It’s not real.”
He sighed and hoped it didn’t sound as painful to her as it felt. “It’s real enough.” Her eyes were still on him. “I promise I won’t let it get in the way again, but I can’t just…” He hesitated. “That’s not who I want to be anymore?”
She nodded, and her eyes narrowed.
“And now that you know way more about me than you should, can we…”
She nodded again. “Yeah. I’ll meet you in the middle? I mean, if a leggy brunette doesn’t—”
“Let it go, Alex.”
She smiled and disappeared into thin air. From the sky she said, “You’re no fun at all, you know that?”
He did, in fact, know that.