It had taken Rick a month and no small chunk of change to locate a Demon’s Horn again. Grateful for compensation Dokutan had offered him for getting caught up in Rick’s mess, R3D_Button had leaned on a friend to let go of a Left Demon’s Horn for significantly less than market rate.

The Garden, the one that had held the Ga Family Style boon, had been eliminated. Rick’s new employer was less than thrilled that Rick had found such easy access to the an edge of the map where the game had less control. Though Rick understood the liability it raised for the company, he was sad to see it gone.

Lacking access to the garden, he went back to the first place he’d met Ditto: the strange underground theater where he’d fought the strange kabuki fighter the day his wife last tried to kill herself.

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At that moment, he sat in the theater, watching the fighters perform, the same as he had the last seven days he’d visited. Ditto had yet to show up. However, on this, the eighth day, the familiar form of his avatar appeared, and when it did, Rick approached.

Ditto bowed slightly. “You are Mr. Rick Prophet.” It wasn’t a question. “Why do you come here?”

“Rick. The name is Rick. No need to use last names when you’re among friends.”

The bot squinted at him. “Have we met, Rick Pro—” Ditto stopped himself. “Have we met, Rick?”

Rick took a deep breath, then nodded. “We have.”