by Rue Vespers
Jenner shook his head. The elf came over, a small smile on her solemn face, with Rosy in her hands. “I think this belongs to you.”
“Thanks,” Jenner said, hooking his finger through Rosy’s handle.
Players picked scary names for fighting. Intimidating names; names meant to strike fear in the heart of the opponent and to impress the audience. He saw that in his visit to the ring. There was no such thing as Joe or Susie the gladiator. That was too boring.
Yet after a while, wouldn’t those scary names all seem the same to players scrolling through for substitutes? Wouldn’t they become just as boring? They would be boring to Jenner. Blood, death, gore, fear, blah blah blah blah blah.
His grakel scales were special, but they weren’t obvious just to look at him. He needed a name that grabbed their attention long enough to scan down his profile.
“Well?” the office employee asked.
Then Jenner had it.
It was Rosy who would catch their eye first. Not Jenner’s typically invisible scales; not Jenner himself. At first glance, he was just another human dude in the game. Average. Dull. Nothing of note, unless you counted that his ears slightly stuck out.
He put the cup on his shoulder and said, “I’m The Teacup Guy.”
“The Teacup Guy?” Rosy shrieked in aghast as the name was typed in. “No! NO! NOOOO! That’s not scary at all!”
“Look fierce,” the man said, and took their profile picture.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rosy yelled at him all the way down the stairs to the lounge. “What in the hell is WRONG with you, you blithering idiot? ‘The Teacup Guy’? Who’s going to be scared of a talking teacup? Who’ll take a crap in their pants at the thought of me coming after them? After I backed you up with that insane bid price! And after I didn’t argue with you about taking on any level of opponent! I went with it! I went with it for you! Go back up there and change your name to something worthy of a Level 80 troll! I’ll do it myself! Just open the door for me.”
“Nope.”
The teacup hopped in agitation upon him. “Kid! I watched you flicker a bit in your sleep this morning! You don’t have time to screw around!”
At the bottom of the stairs, Jenner’s hand paused on the door handle to the lounge. “Exactly, Rosy. I don’t have time to screw around. I don’t have time to fight tons of thirty-buck battles when one lousy ACT2 net costs nearly twenty thousand dollars! I’ll be soulless long before I earn enough.”
“You’ll be soulless because you gave yourself a stupid fucking gladiator name,” Rosy grumbled. “The Teacup Guy. Hogdoor’s corny shit log! Even that is better!”
“Like you said, you’re my gimmick.” With that, Jenner opened the door to a sprawling lounge.
Gladiators rested upon sofas and armchairs, even hammocks that hung down from the ceiling. Some were chatting; others paged through magazines; a handful were asleep. An entire armory filled one side of the room, fighters perusing the weapons and taking swords over to the sharpener. There was a full bar and dartboards; a curtained clinic with a doctor on duty, according to the sign; a small sand pit where gladiators were sparring and a yoga studio with a class in progress.
Strangely, a lot of the gladiators appeared to be talking to themselves. One man in leather armor walked past Jenner without noticing him there, saying, “Which weapon? The spear. Yes, I’ll accept that bid. Yes, I’m ready now.” He vanished into thin air.
Jenner looked around the huge room, unsure of where to go and what to do. It looked like the substitute gladiators were just hanging out to wait for bids, or sorting through the ones they’d received upon invisible screens. Taking off his damp cloak, he hung it up on the line of hooks beside the door.
Welcome to the club, new gladiator! You have been awarded a Skill Point. Where do you want to apply it? Ask to see your options!
A skill point! Intrigued, Jenner said, “See options.”
“What options?” Rosy groused.
“Shh.”
One Skill Point (1): Currently Unassigned
Would you like to permanently enhance your Combat skills? Raise your Intelligence or Charisma or Stamina? Give a boost to your Agility or Dexterity? Or do you want to dash it out on a temporary increase in your Luck or Health?
He already had a single skill point in the sword from that lesson on the deck of the Halvas with Master Tosco. It was tempting to add his new skill point to the one he already had, but something made him hesitate. Was a 2 in the sword really that much different than a 1? Neither was impressive. The liquid moves taking place over in the sand pit testified to sword skills much higher than 2.
Or he could boost his 0 with the bow to a 1, which made him seem a little more versatile in weapons. But he met the same problem there. A single skill point in the sword plus a single skill point in the bow wasn’t impressive by any standard whatsoever.
He could add the point to his grakel scales and raise them to 26, a likely pointless enhancement, and there was no reason to add a point to his charisma unless it attracted buyers. Even if he added it to his intelligence or stamina, agility or dexterity, he was still far-outclassed by upper-level players and other races.
“What do you mean?” he queried, ignoring the mutters of the teacup. “A temporary increase in health or luck? I don’t have a luck stat.”
Your unassigned skill point can be added to Health, raising your current Health from 16 Points to 18 Points. The effect will last for twenty-four hours.
Your unassigned skill point can be exchanged for a Wizard-Grade ‘B’ Luck Potion. The effect will last for twelve hours.
Fun Fact Time! Luck Potions are often referred to as Liquid Gold . . . and they certainly cost a lot of gold to acquire! Unfortunately, one player’s Luck Potion can be cancelled out by another player’s Luck Potion if both Luck Potions are identically graded. The grading system runs from A through D, with A being the most expensive and most effective, and D being the least expensive and least effective. There is no officially recognized F-grade Luck Potion, although demon witches sell them on Talvenor’s black market.
Fun Fact Time! Luck Potions only assist you within the game. They cannot be used by gladiators to influence buyers, though a Luck Potion can swing a match once in action!
Okay. That was a lot to consider.
Jenner moved away from the door as another gladiator entered the lounge. Increasing his health points to 18 would be a good move, yet he was dismayed that the effect was so short-lived. He had to be getting close to another level-up, which would bring him to 18 points anyway if his HP continued to increase by two with every bump. Would his health then be 20 due to this skill point? Or was it a waste? And what did it matter if his opponent had 40 points? Or 80?
Luck.
That tempted him most of all, but it sucked that he’d only have that luck for half a damn day when a boost to his combat skills was permanent. Not only that, if his opponent happened to have also ingested a B-grade luck potion, then Jenner’s potion wouldn’t do him a lick of good, and he had wasted a skill point! It wasn’t even an A-grade luck potion.
“What’s making you look so constipated?” Rosy complained.
“I was just granted a skill point,” Jenner said, “and I have to decide where to apply it.”
“I’d give myself a hand so I could bitch-slap you.”
“Thanks. That’s very helpful. Do you know anything about luck potions?”
“Yeah. They whipped up a batch in the lab one day with their intermediate students, who fucked it up so badly that it brought bad luck instead. The professor made them drink it to teach them a lesson about the importance of measurements.” Despite its bad mood, the cup snickered. “Three students were scrambled within the hour in various accidents and the rest got a vicious case of the poops. They had to shell out their own money on health potions or adult diapers, whichever they could afford. They were pissed but they did the potion right the next day.”
The sword, Jenner th
ought, but heard himself say, “I’d like a luck potion.”
An ampoule of amber-colored glass appeared in his hand. It was corked, a B stamped atop the cork itself. Liquid sloshed about inside. Then it was gone, entering into his inventory.
Right or wrong, the decision was made. He started for the armory.
Ping.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“What’s what?” Rosy replied.
“The ping sound I just heard.”
Ping-ping.
“It’s a call,” Rosy said.
“Answer?” Jenner guessed.
The radiant blocks zoomed into the shape of a television. A teenage boy was on the screen, the name plaque over his head reading Fartbox69. Behind him was a very messy bedroom at an inn somewhere out there in Talvenor.
“Five thousand dollars?” the kid cackled. “Listen to me, genius, nobody will pay five thousand dollars for a Level 4 human player named The Teacup Guy to sub a match! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“Did you see my demonic sub-race?” Jenner asked frostily, though his stomach was doing flips.
The kid jeered at him. “Who gives a shit about your lame demonic sub-race? When I order the gladiator substitutes by price from high to low, I don’t want to see your dumb picture pop up first. Like you outrank Elana the Great or TobiasTripleX when you haven’t competed once! Word of advice: lower your bid from five thousand dollars to five dollars and you might get a few takers. Dipshit!”
The call ended abruptly.
“So I guess that’s a no from Fartbox69,” Jenner said.
Annoyed and humiliated, he stalked into the armory to glare at the rental prices of the suits of armor, which weren’t as low as he expected. Why was he looking at armor? All but the most expensive suits weren’t as strong as his grakel scales. Jenner wore his armor already under his skin.
Ping.
It was probably Fartbox69 calling back to lob more insults. Jenner didn’t answer.
Ping-ping.
He prayed it would stop on its own.
Ping-ping-ping.
“Answer,” Jenner said reluctantly.
Now it was two redheaded chicks with scornful faces, their plaques reading ElviraWasAGinger and Double Arrows. “Dude, who the hell do you think you are?” said the one identified as Double Arrows. She was wearing an Oderi blessing. “The teacup glitch is cute and all, but it’s not worth five thousand bucks to play you. That’s like what I earn in the outer-world in two entire months!”
“Then start saving!” Jenner snapped. “If you think you can find another player in the substitute list with grakel scales, then happy hunting! I’m worth every cent!”
Offended, Double Arrows retorted, “Hey, don’t get me wrong but I like this character and I want to keep it. I’m not going to risk losing it in a dumb gladiator battle. But five thousand bucks is an insane bid price! You earn a high bid and you haven’t earned shit!”
“Thank you for your thoughts,” Jenner said. “End!” The call was cut off.
Ping.
“Troll balls!” Jenner spat.
“You brought this on yourself,” Rosy said without mercy.
Ping-ping.
“Answer!”
The screen held a roomful of people laughing hysterically.
Jenner hung up on the spot and confronted the sword selection like it had done him a great and personal wrong. Two more calls came in along the same vein while he stormed about the bows, spears, and daggers. He wasn’t lowering his bid, dammit!
Rosy sat in solemn judgement on his shoulder, but Jenner could read the teacup’s non-existent mind. All around them, bids were being made and gladiators were vanishing and a few of them must have looked at the substitute lists because they were either muffling laughter or openly glaring at Jenner.
He could lower his bid. Just a little. Take it down to three thousand. Or one thousand.
No! The second he did that, he confirmed what they thought about him. Namely, that he was a joke. He wasn’t budging by a single cent.
He marched his foul mood over to the bar, intending to drink whatever amount it took to get virtually sloshed in Scrambled Lives.
Ping.
“Not again,” he sighed.
Ping-ping.
“Answer it and I’ll yell, even though I can’t see your screen,” Rosy offered.
Ping-ping-ping.
“Answer,” Jenner said.
The blocks flew back, and a guy in his twenties stared out to Jenner. He had the copious jewelry of a dragon shifter, but the cool face of an elf as well as a single pointed ear. A sub-race, one or the other. Running his hand through his thick reddish-brown hair, he gave a quiet, penetrating look to Jenner and Rosy. The plaque over his head announced the caller as Prince Nicodemus.
At least he wasn’t laughing. The guy was sitting in an elegantly furnished room of gold and mauve, a literal treasure chest sitting upon a dresser behind him with the lid open. Inside were tangles of jewelry.
“Interesting,” Prince Nicodemus said at length.
“Who is this joker? What do they look like?” Rosy yelled in outrage. “Stop bothering my player or I’ll pull your brains out of your nostrils with a fondue fork, you little asshole! I’ll eviscerate you! I’ll decapitate you! I’ll obliterate you! I’ll fart in a box and mail it to your mother! I’ll-”
Jenner patted the cup to calm it down. “Rosy.”
“Seven years,” Prince Nicodemus said, leaning back to tap his ringed fingers upon the armrests of his chair. “Seven years I have played Scrambled Lives, and I’ve never once encountered a glitch. It is certainly not for lack of trying. How did you find this one?”
“The glitch found me on my first day in the game,” Jenner said. “I took a custodian job out of the scuttle pen and it refused to leave me alone.”
Rosy glowered. “I know you’re talking about me!”
A touch of envy darkened the caller’s vivid green eyes. “Seven years I’ve spent roaming every corner of Talvenor. I’ve logged sixteen thousand hours plus in my pod. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve chased bunnies towards the dungeons to no result, and tried to enter the portal at Harrownight. I sailed the seas for eleven months looking for The Hole. Even now, I fund three search teams hunting for the hexed rings. On the other hand, you walked into a glitch within hours of your arrival.”
Confused, Jenner said, “Why do you chase glitches?”
“For the merit trophy, of course. The Glitch Finder merit trophy. Scrambled Lives has well in excess of five thousand merit trophies. I’m currently the fourth-ranked player in trophy count.”
“Out of everyone? There are millions of players!”
A cool but prideful smile flitted across the dragon/elf’s lips. “Yes. I’ve scrambled countless times into other forms to collect their race-specific trophies, but some still elude me, and one is the trophy awarded for encountering a glitch. Now, I saw your profile and I’ve already sent a request to the INTC-”
“They know about Rosy!” Jenner exclaimed. “They already ruled it harmless.”
“Yes, I am aware.” The caller brushed his hand through the air to sweep away Jenner’s concern. “I asked if I would be awarded the merit trophy should I hire a gladiator substitute fighting with a glitch, and the answer I received is yes. Just as I would receive the points and benefits of your win in the ring, I will also get the merit trophy. So I would like to place a five-thousand-dollar bid on you for a fight to take place today. Now, in fact. Making it to the top three in merit trophy count . . . I’ve worked a long time for this, and I’m a single trophy away from holding a tie with the current third-place player.”
Jenner was so shocked that he felt light-headed. “You . . . you want to play me? At my full price?”
“Yes. Money is not a concern. As to the fight, I am scheduled to take part in a loot theft challenge. Have you heard of those?”
“No. A loot theft?”
“I am not surp
rised that you aren’t familiar with them, as you are not a dragon shifter, and typically these challenges involve shifter or wizard gladiators, even demon, over human. Within the ring, your opponent will be a Level 15 dragon protecting a treasure chest. Your object is to battle the dragon away from the chest so you can claim the jewel within. I would not be offering this bid to you without those grakel scales, but my researcher informs me that Level 15 dragon fire is much less a threat to a grakel demon. You cannot take too many fire strikes, but a few will not damage you.”
Five thousand dollars for a fucking merit trophy. Well, who was Jenner to judge? “I’ll do it. What weapons will I need?”
“Human and dwarf gladiators in a loot theft are granted a fire-proof shield and a Gregallan glove to increase the strength of their blows. I will transfer gold to the gladiator lounge armory to cover the cost of the rentals. You don’t have enough money as a Level 4 player to afford the very best, so I’ll pay for it myself.”
He really wanted this merit trophy. Really wanted it. Jenner admired that level of dedication, and envied the amount of money one had to possess in order for money to not be a concern. “I’ll head over to the armory now.”
“Excellent. The game bank is holding the five thousand dollars in reserve. If you win, it will be transferred immediately to your outer-world account.”
“I’ll win,” Jenner said.
“Then we’ll both win,” Prince Nicodemus said regally, and hung up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Someone actually bid on him?”
“You’re kidding me! Who?”
As he waited, Jenner pretended that he couldn’t hear the whispered conversation behind him. The armorer had gone into the back for the Gregallan glove and fire-proof shield, leaving Jenner at the counter with Rosy.
The teacup was playing within a gigantic troll helmet, battering the inside with the spoon and bellowing, “Take THAT! And THAT! And THAT! Minus 3 HP! Minus 6 HP! Minus 1,000,000 HP! Minus . . .”