Chapter 36: Dogged Disquisition

“It’s not the first time it happened.” Dam13n nodded from where he sat across the booth.

They were sitting in The Dollhouse, whose bottom floor was almost empty. Though, considering how early in the day it was that didn’t shock either of them.

He’d finished telling about Dam13n about what he’d witnessed on the way back from the Steam Veiled Showboat. A group of girls he remembered being lectured by Andry, had caused a scene in the middle of Geartown.

Four of them were arguing with the blonde witch, who was accompanied by a massive Chimera-bot. It’d towered about the buildings, and been made of a wire frame covered in old CRT screens.

These flickered and flashed, showing images of erupting volcanos, exploding bombs, and other displays of destruction—both natural and man made.

It’d taken him and several others wearing red-arm bands to store the situation out, and get the girls separated. Even as he’d left the scene, people were complaining about letting Chimera-bots into the cit.

Happy Hour sat in the booth with them as she played with Whiskers, who was cradled in her lap.

His blue eyes were closed as he purred softly. The robopets default state when she used both hands to rub his ears.

“I haven’t seen it before,” Jester said. “It took forever to get her to take the Chimera-bot back to The Outskirts.”

Dam13n shrugged. “Makes sense, man. Most of them don’t really get that far past the border. Either the Chimera-bot gets stuck on something or they ghat harassed into turning around.”

As Dam13n spoke, he could imagine the tongue-lashing Mistletail would have given the girl. She’d been upset. Those girls having harassed her again.

Jester could understand.

Lexington gave him enough grief over the years. Still, she was causing trouble and blocking streets. It wasn’t something they could let slide. Especially as she was wearing union colors.

The organization was growing and quickly. He’d even heard of them trying to push for more Developer recognition. That was a way off, though. To his relief, Mistletail didn’t ask him to aid in those plans.

No, she’d been firm. Jester should keep his focus on the fights.

A course of action, he was happy to say on. Which was the main reason he was talking to Dam13n.

“How did you hear about all this, anyway?” Jester took a swig from the faintly flaming bottle in front of him.

Dam13n chuckled. “Man, you know me. Social butterfly.”

“Yeah, but you always seem top have information. I mean, you helped us figure out what was going on with Whiskers.”

His eyes flicked down to the cat, who was still purring away.

“That was easy enough. Sorry for not being able to find more on Masky.”

“Not your fault.” Jester waved the words away. “Though I was wondering if I could use your investigative abilities for something else.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

“Glasshopper.”

Dam13n grinned. His hands grabbed at the soda bottle in front of him. The lid popped off with a roar, and a bubble bearing a miniature robotic horse flew out of it. He frowned.

“Carrot flavored again.”

“Isn’t that the rabbit picture?” Jester asked, his original question forgotten as he watched the horse float around the room.

“Nah, that’s lettuce.”

“Weird. Anyway, back to my thing?”

His grin was back, even as he took a swig from the drink.

“My man. You’re trying to sneak a peek at the competition?”

Jester gave a single shouldered shrug. “What if I am?”

“Then, my friend, I can help. Glasshopper right? I assume you’ve checked the streams and such.”

“She doesn’t have much,” Jester admitted. “Most of what I could find were things from previous matches in the cup.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Dam13n said. “When did you want the information?”

With a joking smile, he shrugged. “Today?”

“Man, you don’t ask for much.”

Dam13n tapped a finger on the table as he thought. “You still have two weeks before the match proper, right?”

“About that.”

“Ok. So you’ll want a week to prep. Do you have any ideas for Happy Hour?”

“Sure do.”

Jester looked over at Happy Hour. She smiled and nodded. They’d talked it over more since the night before. It needed to be that one outfit. As much as they wanted to save it for the Final Cup, there wasn’t point.

This last fight would be the one people remembered. The first cup win, provided they could pull it off. A victory for an Android for the first time in ever.

If the video didn’t go viral in the game’s various circles, it would shock Jester.

For the sheer novelty, if nothing else. People loved that kind of thing he was finding.

“So a week then.” Dam13n reached across the table. “It’s a deal, man. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks.”

“What about you, though?” He asked, while taking another sip from his soda. “What’s your plan for the two weeks?”

“Help at the union. Go hunt the junkyard. Practice painting robots with Markal. Normal stuff. With the dress designed and my weapon orders in, there isn’t much else to do. It isn’t exactly like Happy Hour needs training.”

“It’s true. I am fully prepared to squash this bug.” Her impassive mask was in place. At odds with the strange amount of enthusiasm in her voice.

“I believe it,” Dam13n said with a laugh.

Jester did too. She’d gotten through all the challenges so far. Inectorz wasn’t anything all that special. A brute with a bug gimmick and some movement skills. He’d seen her dance with Lugathin. She could handle this.

He was about to voice his thoughts when a new arrival joined them at their booth. Tiffany smiled at him, and Jester reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Hey Tiff. Off shift?”

“Break,” she said. “You two boys having fun without me?”

“Never too much.”

Jester grinned, and she returned it. He liked her smile. It was always genuine, at least when she turned it on him. Beside him, Dam13n looked away, shaking his head.

“As it should be. So, Dam13n. He asked you to act as his little spy yet?”

“Yup.”

Tiffany clapped him on the shoulder.

“What did you charge him, dude?”

“We didn’t get that far,” Jester said. “Though she brings up a point. What kind of favor do I owe you?”

As he spoke, he saw a contemplative look come over Dam13n’s face. With a shrug of his shoulders, he leaned back in his chair.

“I have something in mind.”

“What can we do?” Happy Hour said.

From her lap, Whiskers let out a soft meow. She went back to patting him, and his snores started up once more.

“There’s a friend of mine who wants to meet you. She’s been asking me for days. So, that would be my price. Come, do a meet and greet with me.”

Jester raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Most people never seem shy about coming to tell me what they think of me.”

“Not everyone hates you enough to approach you for no reason.” Dam13n let out a laugh.

Tiffany joined in on that and shifted her chair over to take his hand. He gave it a squeeze, enjoying the sensation of her returning the motion. Even as Dam13n continued talking, his mind focused on the sensation of it.

“Anyway, she wants to meet you, as do a few others. Fans and players are curious about the Android thing. I think you might start a trend.”

“Fine, I’d be happy to help. Set it up, and I’ll try to synch my schedule.”

He couldn’t think of any reason to refuse. Plus, it could be fun. The last time he’d met Dam13ns friends, they’d turned Happy Hour into a vampire. Couldn’t hurt to see what this group would come up with.

As soon as he agreed, Happy Hour started in on Dam13n. She asked questions ranging from how many to likely venues to potential questions. Jester caught Tiffany’s eye and shared her knowing smile.

She didn’t care about the answers; she was acting as a distraction. A fact he wouldn’t ignore.

“How longs your break?” Jester said.

“Shorter than I’d like. One drink maybe?” She stood up and Jester followed suit.

“Bar and chat then?”

“Bar and chat.”

Happy Hour was still asking questions as they left. Jester giving her a discrete wave as he did so. In return, she stopped patting Whiskers long enough to give him a thumbs up. Much to the robopet’s irritation.

For the next fifteen minutes, he sat and drank and chatted with Tiffany. No one approached them. The few other patrons giving them space.

They’d learned that after Tiffany banned two particularly obnoxious players who wanted to invite themselves into the conversations. Debrah agreed wholeheartedly. Even making a general announcement about it.

It didn’t stop the glances, of course.

But he could deal with that.

For now, he was simply happy to enjoy Tiffany’s company. Even if it wasn’t for as long as he would have liked.

***

It took Dam13n almost the entire time they had left to get the information they required.

They weren’t meeting at the Dollhouse this time. At his request, they were heading somewhere quieter. Somewhere the other patrons wouldn’t disturb them. Dam13n insisted on it. Jester didn’t mind. He enjoyed getting the chance to explore the city.

Anywhere new was an exciting prospect in his book.

From the way he talked, Jester half expected an underground bunker. A place so remote no one knew where it was. Instead, it was a seedy speakeasy. There were no signs to mark the place, only a single steel door at the end of an alleyway.

His instructions about how to enter floated in front of his vision. Dam13n had been through and so he’d been double checking them relentlessly. Once satisfied, he nodded to Happy Hour, who took a few steps back.

Whiskers sat cradled in her arms in his half shut down state.

No need for the Robopet to do something that would break the rules.

After a deep breath, he banged his fist against the door four times. Each created an echoing clang that seemed to shake the surrounding bricks. That done, he gave two gentler taps.

Then he stepped back.

Seconds passed before a pair of eyes appeared at a slot in the door.

“Password?”

Jester checked his notes again.

“Lemon Pie and a milkshake to go.”

“We don’t do take out for that order,” the voice said.

With that, the door swung open. To his surprise, no one was on the other side of the door. Only when it shut did he turn to see a pair of eyes that were lowered under the slot. Beneath them was a small speaker.

A cheap option, but he could respect it.

The bartender turned his gaze in his direction as he moved away from the door. They wore a pinstripe suit and carried a Tommy Gun slung across their back. It was a prop weapon, Jester knew.

He couldn’t deny it pulled together the 1920s gangster vibe, though.

From a collection of couches across the way, Dam13n looked towards him. A smile on his face. The person sitting next to him caused Jester to pause. He knew that outfit.

Her red hood wasn’t something many people would choose to wear.

“You know Ridinghood?” he asked as he crossed the room.

“You know her, man?” Dam13n asked. “I’m surprised.”

“I fought him once.” Ridinghood stood and waved.

Happy Hour dropped into a curtsy, even as she transferred the sleeping Whiskers to her shoulder. The cat let out of a soft snore, but didn’t wake up. To his surprise, he saw another sleeping robopet on the table.

A small wolf. Fake fur brushed and cared for. It let out the occasional growl as its tail twitched.

With a glove hand, Ridinghood reached out and placed a hand on its side. At her touch, it calmed, giving a soft yip. She smiled as it did and retook her seat. Jester took that as an invitation and grabbed the one across from her.

When he saw Happy Hour was planning to stand, he pointed to the spot next to him.

“Not our bar.”

“As you say Jester.” She sat and smoothed out her skirts.

“So why is Ridinghood here?” Jester turned to Dam13n, who was holding up a hand three fingers extended.

Before he could get an answer, the barmen was next to the table. Three bottles of Smokeshow Cider in his arms. With deft movements, he placed them down and left.

Not a single word spoken in the entire procedure. Only once he was back behind the bar did Dam13n answer the question.

“Because, man, she’s my source.”

“On Glasshopper?”

Ridinghood nodded as she took up her drink. “Dam13n paid me well. Plus, he got me the meeting I was after.”

That confused Jester, and he simply stared at her. She said nothing as she took another sip of her drink. Her face was as impassive as Happy Hours. There was no sign of the reasoning on her face. Nor did she seem to want to supply it.

He cracked first.

“Why?”

“Because I was curious. You fought well in that brawl with the gangs. Plus, you’re a name now. Even if it’s not for the best reasons.” At that, her gaze drifted over to Happy Hour. “Also, I was curious what she’d be like in person.”

“I see.”

Jester took a sip of his own drink to buy time. He wasn’t sure who he wanted to question more. In the end, he picked Dam13n. At least he knew what he was getting.

“So, what did you end up finding out?”

Dam13n shrugged. “Not much. She’s new. Very new.”

“Two weeks before the Cups started, she joined,” Ridinghood supplied. “However, she didn’t sign until after you.”

“Ok.” Jester frowned. “Does that mean anything?”

“Potentially no.” Dam13n shook his head even as he shrugged. “What might though is we know that she’s been eating at some big name restaurants lately.”

“How big name?”

“Same places as AЯkham-hoЯЯoЯ. So if she’s not bankrolling it, someone’s spending a fair amount of her.” Ridinghood said. “I couldn’t get in to see her meals myself. Those places are tight with who they went in. What I know is she hired space in a mechanic’s shop in a cheap and seldom used part of town.”

Dam13n frowned. “From what the players I talked to were saying, she doesn’t even leave it most of the time. Gets all her parts delivered.”

“Do we know what parts she’s been buying?”

“Nope, thanks to an old friend.”

He didn’t need him to say the name. There was only one face that came to mind at that, or a mask at least.

“She’s being bankrolled by the same players who kidnapped Whiskers, then?”

“That was my thoughts,” Dam13n said. “Which means we might be in trouble.”

Jester slumped back as he moved his gaze to the ceiling. She was building against him. With real financial power. That was a problem. He’d gotten lucky in many respects so far. Neanderthal did most of the damage to Spellslinger, and the race meant Happy Hour didn’t need to fight anyone.

However, the truth was simple. If Glasshopper could boost Inectorz stats to all high through sheer buying power? They would lose. No gimmick could defend them against that.

When he looked towards Happy Hour, he could see her looking back. She knew the score. The pay to win complaints came up enough conversation.

“How likely is it she’s going to have something big?”

“I couldn’t get in to look.” Ridinghood shrugged. “There were people guarding the door.”

“So we lose then?” Jester asked.

“Jester—” Happy Hour started, but he cut her off.

“—No. We lose plain and simple. If she can out buy us, that’s it. I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner, honestly.” He grabbed for the bottle and drank it dry. Even then, he kept his gaze locked onto it.

Annoyance flaring in his gut.

This wasn’t fair. At least with Rippertooth, there was a chance of victory. Lexington never did his own mechanic work, and didn’t bother upgrading for the most part. One of the reasons he went for the second to last cup in the rankings.

Against someone who was potentially spending Technomancer Cup levels of money? The curtains would fall before the show even started. No question about it.

“Jester!” Happy Hour poked him in the side. “None of that.”

When he looked at her, she was glaring at him.

“We’ll be fine. We have our own mechanics working. You haven’t even seen what happens with the new outfit. Can’t we do that before we worry about it?”

“She’s right,” Dam13n said. “Even if it is pointless, it isn’t like you can back out.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes tried to clear his head. To let go of the negative thoughts. He’d never expected to get this far when he’d gotten in. None of the people he was working for could fault him for that kind of loss.

Happy Hour would simply need to do her best, and he’d stick with her throughout.

Besides, as soon as they got to the Final Cup, it was game over. If they got paired against someone major, that would be it.

Ridinghood spoke once he’d opened his eyes again.

“I do have some good news for you.”

“Oh?” He looked at her and nodded. “What?”

Her face was impassive as she spoke, no signs of judgement in her tone.

“We know what route she’s going to be taking that day.”

***

Jester felt strange walking the streets of Geartown without Happy Hour by his side.

It was three days before the big event, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the possibilities.

He’d gone back to his old clothes for this jaunt. The ratty suit and the busted top. No one gave him so much as a second glance. That he was grateful enough. His mind was doing a good enough job of making him feel bad. Other players piling on wouldn’t help.

“I don’t know what I should do.”

His muttering drew little attention as he leaned against a wall. In front of him, players moved by. Such variety, all going about their digital lives. None worried about anything he did.

A fact he wished he could share with them.

Ever since his meeting with Ridinghood and Dam13n, he’d been feeling off. Though that wasn’t strictly true. The meeting with Debrah left him off kilter as well. Her question still ringing in his ears.

“Do you want to change her that much for a simple victory?”

There was no reason the answer shouldn’t be a simple no. It was an insane idea. One that he’d never have considered before. In the same way, he wouldn’t have considered cheating.

“We know what route she’s going to be taking that day.”

All it would take was scrounging together some credits and lies, and he could somehow sick the same gang that arrested him on Glasshopper. Wouldn’t even be difficult. She’d get delayed. He’d win by default. Simple.

Even the thought of it sickened him, however.

That wasn’t him. He wasn’t a cheat, a fact he’d been adamant about right after she’d brought it up. Still, the thought lingered. Right alongside Debrah’s question.

With a mental command, he pulled up his messages and re-read Kylee’s response to his questions. Those few lines that both made him terrified and curious.

{Message - KyleeMeester
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Possibilities

Yes, what you’re talking about is possible.

Not quick, but possible.

However, I think you’re right. She would change. What she’s made of, from the fake hair to the wooden panels, is a part of her. It would count as equipment for the purpose of her weird code.

My advice? If Glasshopper is getting the backing you say she is, then you may have to. We know what this game is like. On the other hand, is losing the Happy Hour you know worth the victory?

You can answer that, not me.

I believe you’ll make the right choice.

Don’t be afraid to come see me if you need help.}

She was right, she couldn’t answer this for him.

Jester let out a small grunt as he pushed himself off the wall and walked further into Geartown’s mess of streets. Once or twice he hit a dead end, but he didn’t let it bother him. Where he walked wasn’t important.

Plus, it felt right.

His own mind was hitting dead-ends. Why not hit them physically as well?

Anger at himself flourished as he continued to move. He knew what the question was. Did he want to beat Glasshopper? In some ways, yes. All his dreams relied on it. The money would go a long way.

If he didn’t have to lose who Happy Hour was now, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

But he did it as things stood?

She would be gone, and there was a real possibility he couldn’t get her back. His Android friend vanished in seconds under a new personality. One that he’d have no way to predict. That was another issue.

What if she was a pacifist? Or ultra violent and swear-filled like an edgy 90s cartoon character? Neither would play well to the audience they’d built up.

Debrah’s voice came to him again. “Do you want to change her that much for a simple victory?”

“I don’t.”

As soon as he said it, he knew it was the truth. There was no point, no real gain. So they’d lose the money. That was always a possibility. Plus, there were fallbacks now. Things they could do to earn a living in different ways.

While it would have been nice to have an Android win. To show up Lexington if nothing else, it wasn’t worth losing her. He shook his head, wondering why he’d even been considering it. This whole thing was so pointless.

Then he remembered.

It was to distract himself from the other idea. Of using his friends and contacts to stop Glasshopper from even arriving. Again, he didn’t like the idea. Even if he knew, others would tell him to go with it.

However, it was such a Lexington move.

It really was something that smug git would plan. He’d probably screw it up somehow, too. Whoever he hired would give him up in a heartbeat. The Developers would crack down on that kind of thing hard.

A chuckle escaped his lips even as the thought gave him pause.

They would crack down. An event this big with as much money being made as DollmakerMC claimed wouldn’t be without scrutiny. Someone would check. Which would mean he would get found out.

His mind spun, trying to figure out what the consequences could be when that happened.

There was one obvious one. If the Developers found out that he’d done that, they’d boot him out of the tournament. Account banned and character deleted.

Happy Hour would vanish permanently too, being tied to his character.

Two birds with one stone.

Whoever his enemies were, they would get rid of him with ease. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. This information was almost certainly bait. To get him desperate enough to do something stupid.

Ridinghood mentioned several times that she couldn’t get close.

Either at the restaurant or at the workshop. Five-star establishments sold some things that gave amazing concentration buffs. Though that didn’t mean all the food would do the same thing.

Also, if Glasshopper never left the building, how did Ridinghood find out the information in the first place? From what Dam13n said, he’d assumed rumor mongering.

Plants? Their enemies did have deep pockets. Masky could bring her almost anything, and it would be impossible to know. It could be low-quality gear bought on the cheap. All this might be nothing but pageantry to make him afraid.

To force him into making a mistake.

He stopped his walk as it all hit him at once.

This whole thing was possibly a ploy. One that he’d almost walked into due to stress and what he knew about the game. That was stupid. A mistake he wouldn’t be making.

There was no way he’d be changing Happy Hour and no way he’d cheat.

It was out of the question.

Jester let himself take a few deep breaths as he came to his decision. Happy Hour wouldn’t be getting any kind of physical augment, nor would he be cheating.

They’d win as they were or lose as they were. It wasn’t like anyone would care. Sure, if the decrees from Kylee were still in effect, that may have changed things.

However, she’d released him from that.

Both Debrah and Madame Merriam already got what they wanted. An uptick in business, which he could and would take credit for. The after fight parties alone would be enough for Debrah.

Shame welled up for having even considered it.

However, what was done was done. So he tried not to beat himself up too much as he walked back to Happy Hour.

She was with madame Merriam who was putting the finishing touches on her outfit. Not that it needed much. A few tweaks and tucks were all she said. Ones that he, of course, she’d not allowed him to be present for.

As much as he wanted to tell Happy Hour about his decision, he didn’t hurry back. He enjoyed the relative anonymity that he was receiving like this.

It was nice not to be harassed in the streets.

A facet he was sure, win or lose, wouldn’t go away soon.

While he walked, he sent two messages off. One to Dam13n and one to Kylee. Both read about the same, informing him of his decisions. Even in text, neither seemed surprised.

When he finally arrived at the Gargoyle door, it opened without incident. Happy Hour stood there in her normal outfit, the stars following slowly around.

“So?” she asked as she looked him in the eye.

With a grin, he told her.

The smile on Madame Merriam’s face told him he made the correct decision. Now all he needed to do was wait. After all, his last match was only days away.