The room was cleaner than Rick expected, but he worried as he ran the implant plug though its decontamination cycle. The entire space was pleasantly sterile, like a dentist’s office.
As soon as it buzzed, indicating it was done, he jumped into the chair and plugged in.
His mind reeled at the options before him. There were fifteen tiles on the easy access screen, and not a single title left any room for doubt about what it was. His anger rose, instilling within him the powerful desire to find the man at the desk and beat him unconscious.
Thirty seconds, Ditto said.
He gritted his teeth. “Fuck.” His stomach was queasy as he ignored the easy access screen, navigated the browser to the Ruckus Online entry portal, and entered.
He fell into the black, reappeared in the server lobby, and placed his hand on the match server with only thirteen seconds left.
His world faded to black again, but it quickly resolved into a familiar setting—that of the starting cave in which he and Alex had begun their training.
It should have been a welcome sight. Under other circumstances, it would have been, but it felt as though he’d had to dive into a toilet to get there, and that some of the scum on the surface had entered the dream with him. He looked forward to hurting his former boss.
But that would have to come after he won the tournament.
He centered himself in the yellow light and attained empty mind before he left the cave, then strode into the forest, searching from side to side. He couldn’t afford to get knocked out by a Wild One in the early game.
He made it halfway up a rocky, treeless rise before he encountered the first bot.
The man was shorter than average and wore a strangely feminine shirt that bared his midriff. His loose pants shifted as he walked, making it look as though there was a breeze when there wasn’t.
Rick approached cautiously, checking for responses. There was no player tag, but he’d have been surprised to meet another player this early on. It happened now and again, but it was exceptional when it did.
The bot closed the distance. Rick breathed deeply to reinforce empty mind and switched his stance. The bot didn’t respond, but rather kept coming from uphill, negating its height disadvantage. When it got within three paces, it leapt.
Rick dropped to the ground. Using the stored energy of his muscles and tendons, drove an uppercut into the bot’s exposed groin and abdomen as it flew over, delivering a powerful attack while also tipping it abruptly over. Like a piece of cloth first hooked on a barbed wire fence, then suddenly let free, the bot dropped face-first into the rocky path. Rick came down atop the fighting bot and, within a few seconds, it was over.
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Victory!
Three boxes rose from the dissolving bot: one orange and two blue.
Boost Points +1
Rick navigated to his spec sheet.
Strength: 2+4 (Ga Style Permanent Bonus)
Speed: 2+4 (Ga Style Permanent Bonus)
Stamina: 1
He placed a point into stamina.
Strength: 2+4 (Ga Style Permanent Bonus)
Speed: 2+4 (Ga Style Permanent Bonus)
Stamina: 2
Active Skill Acquired!
Hard Angles: Sidestep followed by elbow thrust followed by a trip. Cooldown five seconds.
Active Skill Acquired!
Bear Says Hi: Left high face chop, then grab opponent’s head with both hands and throw. Cooldown twenty-five seconds.
Rick envisioned a few use cases for the moves. He accessed a tutorial image for Bear Says Hi, and once he understood what the move entailed, he started back down the path.
He descended the other side of the rise, into dense forest where the undergrowth pressed in, making of the path something akin to a thin rabbit-run. Though the game always varied the details about the game world with each match, the low visibility put him on alert. He kept up his pace, as the ring-out lightning ring was rarely closer during a match than it was in the opening minutes.
Birdsong had filled the air, which served to reliably indicate the level of danger. When they went quiet, he slowed.
The thick undergrowth made it difficult to see. He walked a further five feet, then ten. The crack of a stick made him jump, but it was only a small simulated animal from what he could tell.
He sighed and had almost let down his guard when the sound of breathing from behind him made him jerk away in the opposite direction. Because of that, whatever had hit him had only scored a glancing blow.
He whirled around, but stopped short of punching. Nothing was there. Again, there was the sound of movement behind him—this time the crunching of the dirt on the path—and he rolled away, turning around again as he stood.
And again, nothing.
Ditto?
The bot didn’t reply. Rick kept alert as the seconds ticked on. When the breeze picked up, he turned in that direction, but it was only the breeze. Thunder sounded in distance, a reminder he couldn’t wait forever.
He started down the path again, but kept his guard up.
His nerves were jangled. He’d been in high-stakes matches, and those were in real fights with the risk of head injuries and broken bones. Nonetheless, this was something entirely more. The simple fact he could fight again at all, had you told him six months before, he’d not have been able to accept it. Had you told him he’d have lost Kristina-Anne, it would have put stones in his gut. It would have made it hard for him to get out of bed.
The unseen attacker didn’t harass him again. What was the point of that? He tried not to let it get into his head, but if it was another cheater, it would be something he’d have to confront before he got to the end. He couldn’t settle for anything less than first place.
Ditto?
I’m here, the bot said.
I got jumped by something. Invisible. Maybe cheating?
Checking, Ditto’s voice echoed in his mind. Nothing now. You’re usually okay in the early game. I was scanning for traps or problem players, and keeping my eye on the anti-cheat AI, too.
Can you stay closer for a while? Might need your help, even in the early game.
Yes, Ditto said. The anti-cheat bot has been especially erratic in this match.
Erratic? Rick’s breath hitched at the mention of the word.
The sound of Ditto’s sigh carried a tinge of frustration. The anti-cheat usually follows a more predictable pattern. It’s made it easier to help y—
Rick stopped running. Ditto? He waited. Ditto?
There was no reply.