After the third reading, Alex’s message had sunk in, but he read it again anyway.
> Rick,
>
> What Hector did to you was wrong. I don’t know what he has on you, or how much you owe him, but I have an idea.
>
> I am a damned good trainer. Gather all the money you have and follow these directions. I still can’t meet you in person, but there’s an SR array I have you can use… it’s an ex-boyfriend’s, but he never wanted it back. Don’t know why I told you that.
>
> Anyway, I think we can get you into a local tourney qualifier. You need to be on your best game, as nearly all the combatants are real people. It won’t be easy, but all we have to do is qualify for now. I’ll teach you as much as I can as fast as I can.
>
> Fuck Hector.
>
> Alex
What did it mean? The message terrified him, though it wasn’t the content of the note itself that scared him. He’d already begun to push his failure from his mind—it wouldn’t help him find a job or keep him and his wife off the streets.
Now, unexpectedly, Alex had thrown him a lifeline.
Why?
Jumping without looking was what had gotten him into most of the messes in his life, but not every risk had ended in loss. Kristina-Anne had been a risk. She was way out of his league, even as a young fighter gaining rank. His nose had been broken and it bent in the most ridiculous way before he got it fixed, and though he pulled “girl-next-door” kinds of tail, Kristina had been on an entirely different level.
He’d made her laugh, and he hadn’t grown a successful fighter’s ego yet. That’s what she always told him whenever he asked why she responded to his clumsy attempts to pick her up.
He shook his head and blinked to bring himself back from the memory. He wasn’t going to get a job in the next four days, and even if he did, he wouldn’t get paid for at least a week after starting.
He typed back a quick message.
Alex,
When? I have about $2k. Am I betting on myself or… do we need a secure email?
Rick
He swigged his beer as he waited. The sound of some audio program emanated from the bedroom. Kristina often used spoken-word shows or audiobooks to help her sleep, and as long as the host or narrator wasn’t obnoxious, it never bothered him.
He had to remind himself to breathe as he waited for a response from Alex. The sound of the podcast host grated on him. Why do they still call them podcasts? There hasn’t been a ‘pod’ for decades.
Ding! An email arrived.
Rick,
As soon as possible. Can we go straight into chat?
He grunted.
Alex,
My wife’s in the bedroom trying to sleep and she’s already… I don’t want her to hear your voice and tiptoe around me chatting with another woman for three days. She just got out of the hospital.
Rick
Again, he waited, though he fidgeted in his chair. Three minutes passed. He downed the rest of his beer and unhooked himself from his AR array to get another. The array dinged before he got to the fridge, and he raced back, beer-less, to check the message.
Rick,
Fuck, dude. She must be something special to put up with that kind of jealousy, but I understand.
I’m emailing you the map coordinates. Get there as soon as you can.
Alex
He hurriedly typed back.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Alex,
I’ve had three—
He deleted the word “three.”
Alex,
I’ve had four beers in about three hours. Are we competing tonight?
Rick
She got back to him right away this time.
What the fuck are you doing getting drunk at a time like this? (I’m kidding… get your ass there as soon as you can.) Training is tomorrow morning, but I need to catch you up on the whole clusterfuck of fighting against so many live players.
Alex
Rick disconnected his implant from the array and picked up his bag on the way to the bedroom, then peeked in.
Kristina lay propped up against the headboard, gazing into her phone.
Rick cleared his throat. “Hey babe. I got a lead for a job, but I’m competing for interviews with two other people. I gotta get there tonight. You okay?”
She gazed up at him. Her eyelids drooped and she yawned. “When will you be back?”
He shrugged. “No idea. Might even start working tonight.”
She frowned, then nodded. “Call me when you know?”
Rick shook his head. “If I can.”
She nodded again, and he pulled back out of the room.
“Good luck,” she called after him.
“Thanks, hon!” He checked his pockets for his keys and wallet, but before he reached the door, he stopped, raced back to the fridge, and pulled out another beer. He guzzled it on the way back to the front door and placed the still-cold empty can on the end table next to the lamp-slash-art-piece that had been wrecked during the botched robbery.
He paused. That had only been a couple weeks earlier, but it seemed like it had happened in someone else’s life. Before he could navigate the SR fights. Before Kris ended up in the hospital again.
“Honey, are you sure you’ll be okay?” He waited for a response. Then, with soft footsteps, he crept back to the bedroom. He glanced inside where his wife still lay propped against the headboard. Her mouth hung slightly open and her eyes were closed.
He crept back to the front door, then quietly locked the apartment behind him.
******************************************************
The money he spent on the train wasn’t significant enough to change Rick’s fortunes. It was more important he get there quickly. He enjoyed the lack of mandatory ads, though.
Alex’s instructions led him deep into downtown, past the hot food vending machines, into an area where every parked car along the street did double duty as a family’s house. Some of the cars looked like they’d been there so long their tires had grown into the asphalt, displaying flat spots. He remembered when he and Kristina and huddled under doorways, bridges—anything to keep the wind or rain out. A car’s roof was as good as anything, and you could lock it.
He knocked three times on a steel door at an industrial warehouse in the garment district. The door buzzed, and he walked inside.
He hadn’t expected a hallway in a warehouse, but there it was, leading into the dark. The green paint on the walls looked recent, but the soft corners on every surface meant it was only the most recent of several coats. Not a clean job, either. Bumps of dirt had been painted over, creating an unintentional texture. He ran his fingers along the wall, as if he could read it, like braille. It imparted no information, but as he traveled down the long corridor, fluorescent lights blinked on. No matter how quickly he advanced, he never reached the dark.
The hall hooked right, and it was more of the same until he reached a set of steel grid stairs that clanked as he descended them.
Again, the lights flickered on, revealing the SR array.
“Here?”
There was static, then Alex said, “Finally fucking here, Romeo. What the hell took so long?”
“I took the train, but I got distracted by an ad and went the wrong way on Olive.”
A pause. Then, “You still get muni ads?” The sound of her sigh preceded her voice. “That ends if we win, okay? I’m not cool with any of my friends having to endure that.”
“Kris too?”
“Your wife? She’s stuck in muni hell, too? Friends don’t let friends and all that, y’know?”
How is she surprised by this? Rick didn’t know many people who’d paid off their muni-bonds.
“Where are you?” He asked.
“Not where you are, but I don’t need to be. Plug in, yeah? You need practice with real players.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Plan? I figure you’re relatively unknown,” she said. “So odds will likely be great if you can place somewhere in the top ten or better.”
“How does it work?” he asked.
“First you gotta qualify. There are five-hundred in a typical match, but most will get destroyed before you ever—”
“Five-hundred?”
“You won’t see most of—”
“That’s like, a lot,” he said.
She raised her voice. “Yeah but you won’t—”
“I’m not top ten of five-hundred in… anything.”
“I think you are,” she said.
Rick felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “Really?”
There was nothing but dead air for what felt like far too long. Then, Alex said, “Are you a fucking idiot?”
Rick laughed—a nervous response to the unexpected question. “Uh—”
“You think I’m taking chances with an unproven fight-boi because what? Because you’re cute? Lotsa boys are cute.” Alex cleared her throat. “Cute don’t pay the bills, though.”
Rick thought about it. “You got a lot of bills, Alex?”
There was a sharp intake of air before it was cut off—likely because Alex muted her mic. Then, “You gotta be more strategic in open play.”
“Alex?”
The tone of her voice rose, and she rushed through the words. “Look, you’re not getting in. That’s never a good situation. I’m here to help you. Let’s focus on that.”
He nodded, and it was silent again.
“Rick?”
“Yeah?”
“If you’re nodding, you know I can’t see you right now, right?”
“Oh shit, yeah.” More nervous laughter. “I’m in.”
Alex cleared her throat. “We have all night to practice, but the qualifiers for the tournament begin tomorrow. That gives us time for maybe two practice runs.”
“Jesus. That’s not much time at all.”
“It’s what we’ve got. Get in and let’s get going. I can’t guarantee we’ll find one another, but ping me and I’ll try to be your wing—at least for the practice.”
He sat in the chair and picked up the login cable. A robotic warning sounded. “Place cable plug into holder. Do not touch the plug.” He placed the cable into a holder stand that rose from the floor. After tipping the sterilization box over the cable’s plug, he stepped back. Light flashed from within the box several times, accompanied by a sound not unlike a bug zapper.
“Who used this last and how long has it been?”
“I told you, it’s my ex’s machine. It’s been months.”
He grunted, then for good measure, initialized his skull implant’s own sterilization program. “Fuck!” His damaged implant had transferred some of the shock to his skull.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. My implant’s dinged up some. I just initialized its sterilization program, because… I dunno. I know it’s just there for germophobes.” He coughed. “Look, using your ex-boyfriend’s SR machine feels like using someone else’s sex toy.”
The sound of Alex’s cackling laughter came from overhead. “What do you think Hector uses all that fancy equipment for, Rick?” More laughter. “Manuel’s the one you should be worried about, though. He forgot to clear his cache after using it once, and I’ve never seen him the same way since.”
“Noted. I’ll plug in and…” He sat and inserted the plug. Seconds later, the world went black.