Jester sat at the counter of his newly refurbished store, watching a small television he’d bought.
All around him people were talking and perusing the shelves. They picked up pieces of painted product he’d finished. Arms, legs and breastplates with a variety of unique designs. He monitored them, even as he continued to watch the screen.
It’d been two weeks and RagerSystems were still showing nothing but the end of the Final Cup.
It still shocked him to an extent that no one complained about them leaving early.
To no one’s surprise, DangerDeathless stood on the champion’s pedestal. It really proved that, at a certain point, credits talked.
There was one shock of the event, however.
One that came as DangerDeathless stood, accepting his victory check. A UFO materialized over The Copper Coliseum. Players gasped and pointed as it came into view, and Jester recognized the make of it in sight.
This wasn’t the shiny chrome sci-fi disk movies showed.
No, this was a kludged together hodgepodge of random parts. Thrusters and claws and lights, all from different spaceships, pulled together.
The victory screen changed to show a classical grey alien figure. He promised staunch retribution against earth, and that their virus was already inhabiting machines. How their mechanical units were already bonding with hosts who would help the invasion.
The idea was one Jester found impressive in terms of sheer scale.
This would increase the PVP aspects of the game for sure. Though, Mistletail would be reigning in those on the Scrappers side.
After Sandra stepped in to explain more details about the new updates, someone tapped on the counter. He looked up and smiled at the new arrival.
“Hey hun.”
“Hey dude,” Tiffany said. “You ready to go?”
With a frown, he glanced at the time before bolting out of his seat.
“Shit.”
Tiffany laughed as she watched him spin, trying to find Markal. The old NPC was standing near the back of the stores. Hands gesturing wildly as he talked to Abradarkness about the sea dragon armor.
“Markal!”
At the sound of his name, he looked up.
“How can I help you, boy?”
“I need you to watch the store. Happy Hour’s recital is on, and I don’t want to miss it.”
Laughter rippled around the rooms as his various customers tossed him amused looks. It was a mixture of those wearing arm bands and those that weren’t. One or two even started heading for the exit.
“Of course, of course. You have fun now.”
“I will.”
With a wave, he grabbed Tiffany by the hand, and together they moved out into the busy street. Players packed the walkways, as store keepers shouted out their wares. Androids often stood outside these stores. Each was as radically eye catching as the last.
He was thankful he simply needed to head next door. Sometimes he missed how quiet The Outskirts used to be.
With a wave of his hand, he skipped the line, waiting to get inside. A few players complained, while others shouted greeted. One asked him how the hand job was, a favorite joke ever since the Captain Rocket match.
Once inside, they squeezed through the crowded lobby. People milled about as they waited for the show to start. His eyes roamed the walls, enjoying the pictures on display. Each showed various performers. All Androids.
However, it was the one that hung above the door that was his favorite.
Happy Hour in her bee gown, dodging the fireball. It was the only one that felt alive to him. Someone bumped his shoulder as he stopped to stare.
“Man, you’re blocking the door.”
Dam13n was smiling, an arm around Kylee’s waist.
“Took you long enough,” Kylee said. “We thought you were going to skip.”
Jester shook his head. “Not on your life.”
The door opened without a sound, and Jester lead them up a series of stairwells. It’d taken a lot of money to get this section built. No one complained though, as they settled into their private booth.
They chatted as they watched the curtained off-stage.
Below, people filed in. Tickets purchased and beverages obtained. Time seemed to slow as the theater filled with people. Each chattering to friends as they settled into their seats.
Only when the room darkened and the spotlight turned on did they quiet down.
Debrah stood there alongside Madame Merriam. Both of them looking resplendent in matching turquoise evening gowns.
“Welcome all!” Madame Merriam gestured as she spoke. Her arm sweeping through the air with each word. “To tonight’s performance. This, out of all the outfits I have made, is still my favorite work. Please do enjoy.”
“For tonight’s show, we will be telling a tale of woe, of anguish, and of defeat. One that you all know well.” Debrah’s voice rang out. “Please, sit back, relax, and enjoy. The slap of god.”
Behind him, Jester heard Kylee snort.
“She really did it?”
“Seems like it,” he whispered back to her.
“Hush, both of you.” Tiffany shot them a glare, which made Dam13n break out into muted giggling.
As the two women moved off the stage, the curtain rose. Happy Hour stood there, adorned in the sequined tutu. With a bow, she straightened, rising to her tiptoes.
The music started, and she began her dance.
Jester smiled as he watched her flow across the stage, marvelling as she moved.
Her smile never faded, and he took Debrah’s advice. He sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed the show. A situation he knew would repeat its self many times to come.
THE END
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I thank you all for reading. This has been the longest single piece of fiction I've ever written, and to have all of you read it is something else. It was a labor of words, tears and breaks, but I got it done! Woo.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRJvzHfxqYo
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Now that it's done, what do you all think? Loved it? Hated it? Something in between, let me know. Any questions you want answered are free game, and I'll be checking the comments for them.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡElUQtZs2f5
If you're still in the mood for reading, I have a new story out Reincarnated for an Apocalypse Store – a Shop Progression Litrpg.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRAFwXyKsmb
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Retail is hell, but hell might have been preferable.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFaUZJJM4FM
A baseball bat to the head kills, and Arthur Clark is no exception. A former wage slave, he finds in his death that the dragon goddess and her children want him to keep working - to bring economic prosperity to a ruined city. Now he has gangsters, wannabe superheroes, and starving survivors as his customers, and an inventory to scavenge from the roaming mutated wildlife.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKIWCk77wCs
If only this was as easy as it’d been in his books.
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