Rick’s world came back in the black game lobby, and at first, the disorientation of his ejection from the game overcame his anger.

So fucking close!

Alex materialized in the lobby nearby and ran at him. He winced, prepared for her wrath, but she tackled him to the ground, laughing.

“How did you know to bow out at ten?” she asked.

From beneath the press of her conspicuously womanly body, he stared. “But I got eliminated at eleven.”

She cocked her head, and he breathed deeply. The intensity of her eyes on him, like those of a hungry animal, made it difficult to remember his anger.

“You got eliminated by that weird fuckin’ bot at exactly ten.” Alex smiled, then pushed off him to get to her feet. “You’re in.”

Rick stood and brushed his gi, as if removing dirt that wasn’t there. “You saw him, too?”

She looked at him askance. “Him? Bot was a woman, but man, I’ve never seen a player, let alone a bot, crush anyone’s skull at this level of play. You simply can’t amass that kind of strength stat at zero-rank.”

Zero rank… He shook his head. “I don’t understand. That was Ditto. That was the bot I was telling you—”

“Need to get that implant checked, man…” She faded off before her eyes lit up again. “Oh, we got top dollar for the matched Demon Horns!”

“Wait, wait, wait. I qualified? You’re sure?”

She looked at him like he was stupid and spoke slowly. “I’m sure, Rick.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you plan to drop at tenth?”

He gave her a side eye. “Why would I do that?”

She grinned. “The odds. You’re at the lowest tier, so you only get to keep one skill or boost going into the competition. Ten different matches with ten top-ten players from each match, but the tenth placers are all considered least likely to win or place again.”

Now Rick looked at her like she was stupid. “Did you just ask me if I planned to get my skull crushed by a crazy-good bot? How would I arrange that?”

She shrugged. “It’s just so fortunate for the odds. Sucks you don’t get to keep more progression going forward, but hey—if you place higher in the competition, you’ll go into rank one play with a lot more firepower.” She pushed his shoulder playfully. “You do good enough, you might not need Hector anymore—once you pay him off, I mean.”

“Just how much did we get for the Demon’s Horns?”

Her smile was wide. “Eight-hundred grand. I haven’t checked what the odds are going into this tourney, but I’m pretty confident that even if you only place tenth again, you’ll have enough to pay what you owe Hector.”

He struggled with the influx of information. Had he imagined it? Was it not Ditto who’d crushed his skull in-game? Something occurred to him. “Can we spare three grand from what we got for the cosmetic stuff? Rent’s coming up, and I have that last paycheck from Hector, but it’s small, and I’d like to have enough money for the month after that. Kris is busting my balls about training with a woman, and this would show that I’m not making an excuse to meet you and… y’know.”

She shot him a dismissive frown. “Hey, I offered, and you were very”—she smiled and nodded—“honorable.”

His laugh was a nervous one. “Yeah. Maybe don’t mention that to her. Like… ever.”

“She ever gonna let your balls outta that box, man?”

He shook his head. “Look, I… I kinda earned it.” He studied the floor. “When I was young and…”

Stolen novel; please report.

Alex tilted her head. “Surprised she stayed with you.”

He glanced up at her, then at the nonexistent sky. “Me too.”

He took a deep breath to clear away the awkwardness.

“Oh, hey,” she said. “You get to pick a skill or a boost. I’d go with—”

“I already know the skill I want. How do I do it?”

Alex said nothing, but she pointed to a flashing box that appeared to hover on a different invisible wall that stood before the scrolling list of servers.

In the box was the word “Congratulations.”

“Put your hand over it, and it’ll give you access to everything you opened up in the qualifier—except cosmetics. You always get to keep those.” She squinted. “Can I ask what you’re choosing?”

“Iron Fist. It’s how I broke the path in Branches, and it showed up again in the qualifier. I almost got that bot with it, but I need maybe one or two more speed boosts to reduce the lead-up.”

She cocked her head. “That’s a rare skill. That you got it once was lucky, but you got it again?” She shook her head slowly, then looked up. “You got both Demon’s Horns and then Iron Fist twice in a row? Someone is on your side.”

“Ditto, maybe, but who can fuckin’ tell?”

She clenched her jaw. “I don’t think there is a Ditto, y’know.”

He ignored her and approached the congratulation box, placing his hand on it when he was close enough.

Your admirable victory has secured a place in tomorrow’s official Ruckus Online Rank Zero Tournament! Your placement allows you to select… 1 boost or skill from those collected today.

Which do you choose?

He scrolled through the list of skills and available boost points before settling on Iron Fist and selecting it.

You chose… wisely. (We hope!) See you tomorrow at 11 a.m. PST.

**********************************************

Rick stumbled through the door, exhausted again. Kristina looked up at him from where she sat on the chair next to the sofa, then looked at her phone again.

“We’re paid up for rent the next two months,” he said.

She perked up at that, as though it surprised her. “You made enough for that?”

He nodded. He was truly too tired to fight. “There’ll be more if I do well tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She shifted in her chair. “Let me guess, you need Alex for this again.”

“Baby… she doesn’t want to fuck me.” Was that a lie? “I don’t wanna fuck her.” That was only a partial truth. He didn’t want the consequences of fucking Alex, and that was entirely different, though with the exhausted mess of his mental through-line, he couldn’t sort it out. It was close enough to truth, as close as Alex’s avatar was to Alex.

Kris remained silent.

“When’s your outpatient?” he asked.

She glanced at him. “Tomorrow.” Her eyes challenged him, though it seemed entirely disconnected from the context of a question about her psychiatric appointment.

He trudged to the fridge for a beer and downed it in one tip of the can and several gulps, then reached for another. “I need to shower, and holy fuck, do I need to sleep.”

She frowned. “Isn’t that what you do all day in SR?”

In a way, it was. SR tech worked like an AI-guided, collective lucid dream, but for all that, it wasn’t rejuvenating to spend so much time processing everything through his defective implant. “Not for me, it’s not,” he said.

He opened his second beer, then reached for a third and took them both to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, he carried his third beer—half-empty—back into the living room. Kristina had fled to the kitchen; he joined her at the kitchen table and sat silently.

“What?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I live here with my wife. Maybe you’ve met her?”

She smirked. “I’ve heard of her. Sounds like she’s a real bitch.” Her eyes widened in a don’t-you-dare-agree-with-me look.

He smiled and nodded. “Oh, she’s definitely got her moments.”

“Do tell.”

He waved her away. “It’s not true.” He grasped her hand and she let him. “She’s perfect.”

Her expression was stoney, but then she chortled despite herself. “How many beers is that?”

“It’s not so many that I’m telling everyone I love them.”

“Just me, then?” she asked.

He leaned in and kissed her. “Just you.”

“Aren’t I lucky?”

“Soon, baby.” In the upper corner near the window, the wallpaper had peeled. “It’s risky, but I can make more this way. Somehow.” His smile was gentle. “Maybe get my own rig. Then you can watch and see that me and my trainer aren’t up to no-good.”

She didn’t say anything to that, but her entire appearance warmed in a way he hadn’t seen for far too long. She looked ten years younger than she was when she smiled like that, but he never told her. It was his secret, and though he was certain others saw that too, she was his wife. Back when they could afford to go out, she went home with him.

Or maybe she didn’t get younger at all, but that smile made him feel younger—the way he had when they’d met.

She’d warmed to him, and he cherished it, though tiredness washed over every inch of his body. “Come to bed?”

She nodded, and together they stripped and got into bed. He draped his arm over her in the dark and listened to her breathing.

Everything could change again tomorrow. She knew he loved her now, but something in the interplay of her emotions might make her forget he ever had, and then she’d be angry. Or hurt. Or scared.

But tonight, she was his, and he was hers.