They asked at the first few hotels they found — most of which would’ve been quite beyond their price-range in the real world — and received the same scripted answer each time: “No vacancies, I’m afraid. We’re full up. Never a dull night in Golden City!”

After the fifth try, Robin declared the whole endeavor to be a bust. Hotels wouldn’t be an option, at least not for tonight.

“Nothing for it, I guess. We’ve got to earn an apartment.”

In the game, housing — or rather, Headquarters — was a perk that came into play around level 20, when questing players could be expected to start maxing out their inventories. With physical space not being a factor, all you had to do was pick a neighborhood in one of the hub cities and sign a lease.

But. Those leases came with level limits based on the cumulative total of your team. A level-25 hero could afford a studio apartment with rented furniture, or they could join a team of a hundred high-level players and gain access their custom fortress, isolated mansion, or entire self-contained city block. But even the very cheapest lease, an unfurnished studio apartment, required the team renting it to be at least level 20.

Robin explained all this to Tisha over sodas and a sandwich they shared in the dining room of a small bistro. She also collected several fliers from the “Community News” bulletin board near the entrance, mostly Lost Pets and Help Wanted ads for minor chores or community volunteers.

“At this level, we’re not that much stronger than civilians,” she explained, dividing the quest ads up by type. “So these daylight quests will be the safest way to build experience. If we knock a few of these out in the next hour, we should be able to get us both to level 5 before things get dangerous.”

“And…after things get dangerous?”

Robin let the question hang, polishing off her half of the sandwich. When night fell, the mobs would take to the streets. There would be robbers to catch, gang fights to break up, and innocent civilians to defend from muggings and worse. But at level 5, every combat would be a risk. Sure, they could use the Analyzer to gauge a mob’s level before jumping in, but that might take time they didn’t have, and there was no guarantee that the crooks wouldn’t call for back-up. If things went south so fast they couldn’t escape…

When game characters died, they’d respawn back at the city’s central hub or, if they had one, at their personal Headquarters. Was that still the case, in this new world? Or did dead mean dead?

“If things get hairy,” she said, once the sandwich had been chewed. “We’ll head back to Assembly Tower. It’s not perfect but at least there should be enough Heroes around to keep the mobs at bay.”

Sure, mob-hunting would let them level up faster. But it would all be for nothing if they got themselves killed in the process. Or so her logical mind kept saying.

They cleared their table on the way out and started with the closest quest in the stack: delivering groceries for a little old lady. From there, despite Robin’s organization, they moved on to whichever tasks caught their eye.

They’d found a lost dog, talked down a schoolyard bully and recovered a stolen bike before Robin convinced herself to stop reflexively checking her character sheet. She’d had a goal with her first character, one that required careful cultivation through all 200 levels, plus an additional 50 when they raised the cap in year four. But that was the past, and she was — quite literally — a different person. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

All she knew was that she liked the way Tisha dashed from one good deed to the next, greeting every requester with a bright smile. She liked getting a feel for her new body, how it moved and felt as she climbed fire escapes and vaulted benches to beat their delivery times. And she found, to her own surprise, that she liked being in this familiar world. It felt natural, somehow. Right. Like it was where she’d always belonged.

Besides, she’d always had a soft spot for the task of rescuing kittens from trees. Getting to pet the grateful rescuee made it even better.

 

---

 

 

By the time the last kitten had been persuaded to take her claws from Robin’s clothes, the sky had gone from blue to gold and the street-lamps were beginning to flicker on.

Robin and Tisha regrouped at a bus stop a few streets away from the Park. Their efforts had gained them both three levels, taking Tisha to 5 and Robin to 6, for a total of 11.

“It’s a little more than we thought,” said Tisha, though her cheer sounded forced as she eyed the nearby alley. The shadows there had already grown dark and long, blocking their view past the first fire escape.

Robin followed her gaze, searching the shadows for movement, though she saw none. She hadn’t seen other players risk the alleys yet, either. The further they went from the park, the thinner their crowd of fellow heroes became, replaced with Civilian traffic of the wheeled and walking variety. Even that was thinning out now, leaving all but the busiest streets empty save for lone, fast-walking pedestrians.

“We could risk it,” she said slowly. “This close to the park, the encounters will be scaled for newbies. Hypothetically, we should be able to take whatever they throw at us.”

“Hypothetically,” Tisha echoed, sounding as anxious as Robin felt. Playing hero was one thing. Willingly throwing yourself into danger was very different. She sighed. “What other choice do we have?”

“Go back to the park and take turns sleeping on a bench.”

The words felt hollow . Sure, sleeping in the park would be safe enough and, with 8 levels to go, they’d probably wind up doing it anyway. Still, it felt unsatisfying. They were superheroes, dammit, and yet here they were, too scared to fight. All because this might not be a game.

But if it wasn’t a game…

She checked the time on her phone, then peered up at the setting orange sun. They had maybe twenty minutes of sunlight remaining.

“How about this,” she said. “We cut through the back way, and if we happen to come across anyone on the way to the Park, we gauge the situation and make a decision there.”

‘If you can’t charge forward, at least try the first step.’ That’s what Rudy always said. If nothing else, it was better than sitting around.

 

---

With Tisha’s agreement, they returned to the back-alley maze. Instinctively, they each turned out as they walked, looking away from each other so that anyone sneaking up could only do so if they came directly from behind. In the limited space between buildings, the only hint that it wasn’t yet night was the thin glow of orange-gold coloring the sky.

They made several turns without incident, until Tisha suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

“Shhh.” Robin put a finger to her lips. She hadn’t heard anything, but she trusted Tisha’s instincts.

Up ahead was a T-shaped intersection. Going right would take them closer to Assembly Tower. From the left, when she listened for it, came a tangle of low voices.

Robin slipped quietly to the corner and motioned for Tisha to follow, their bodies pressed into the rough brick. Peering around the edge, they found that the left-hand path continued straight for another 25 feet before dead-ending into a high wooden fence with barbed wire around the top. It was covered in graffiti and one long-broken “Beware of Dog” sign.

Pressed against it was a young woman in a faded, second-hand business suit. She wore tattered sneakers and clutched a pair of high heels along with a cracked leather purse. She looked haggard and terrified, cornered by three burly street-toughs wearing the brown, yellow and black of The Cobra, one of Golden City’s smaller gangs.

“Lookie what we got here,” drawled the one in the center, brandishing his knife at the woman’s throat. “You lost, sweetheart? Take a wrong turn? We can help you out…of those stuffy clothes you’re wearing.”

Disgusting. Robin grit her teeth. These were stock phrases from stock characters, procedurally-generated goons reading a script of harassment to an NPC hard-coded into her own victim-hood. The smart thing to do would be to pull out her Analyzer and check their levels. If this were still the game, and they walked away, the goons would keep saying the same dozen or so lines over and over again, never going further than a hassling touch until either sunrise or another hero came along to bust their heads in.

But that was the game. This world felt real. If they didn’t step in, would this keep going?

She couldn’t risk that.

“You take the guy on the right,” she muttered, keeping her voice low so only Tisha could hear. “Clear a path, grab the victim, and run. I’ll put the other two on the ground and be right behind you.”

Tisha nodded, drawing a spiral-pattered baton from her pack. Robin tightened her gloves and cracked her knuckles.

“On my count: Three…Two…”

“Halt!”

A white flash flooded the alley faster than Robin could blink. She reeled back, hand flying to her mouth to muffle the instinctive groan of pain. Any sound she made was lost in the cries and moans of the street thugs.

She couldn’t see. Her vision had gone completely white. A Blinded status.

Even as her heart pounded, her mind flooded with calming info: Light was one of the standard elemental-control Powers that could be granted through Beacon’s Gift. Less common than the traditional four, its most basic level manifested as a flash bright enough to blind all within range but the user and their party. Which meant…

“Stupid bad guys!” The new high-pitched voice was punctuated by the thumps and groans of small fists finding large bellies. “You’re no match for the mighty LIGHTBOY!”

Robin dug at her eyes, counting the seconds until the condition finally cleared. Slowly, shadows crept back into her vision, re-forming the shapes of the alley; walls first, then the dumpsters, then the four figures in the dead-end…

No, not four. Five.

The victim was still pressed against the wall, and the three goons had jerked back, clutching their eyes. Between them stood a new, much shorter figure, barely four and a half feet tall. He was blonde, with a generic neat-and-tidy hairstyle disrupted only by a single white streak and matching mask, which tied off at the base of his skull. He wore a white cape that might have once been a bed sheet and, beneath it, a commemorative Golden City t-shirt with the Beacon’s white logo on a black background.

At a glance, he looked ten, maybe eleven years old. But Robin guessed he must be younger, given the way he spoke.
“Fear me, villains! I’m gonna wreck your shit!”

The kid pivoted in place and kicked up into one of the goons, catching him in the hip (though he’d clearly been aiming for the nuts). He elbowed another in the stomach, making exaggerated “Hut!” “Bang!” “Pow!” and “Aii-yah!” noises with every strike.

But as the status cleared from Robin, it had cleared for the mob, too. One of the goons got back his wind, grabbed a nearby board set with nails, and reared to bring it down on the kid’s unsuspecting head.

Robin darted in with a hard right hook that caught him in the side, followed by a left-hand strike to the back of his knee. Neither blow had real strength behind them, and would only do minimal damage until her character got combat training, but it was enough to knock the bastard to the ground.

“Hey!” whined the kid. “No kill-stealing!”

Robin ignored him, yanking the board out of the goon’s trembling hand. The weight and feel of the rough grain brought the reality of the fight to the forefront; yet, now that she’d taken the first plunge, she found herself once again calm.

“Behind you.”

She turned her head as the kid whirled around, averting her eyes in time to not be caught in the second burst of blinding light he shot through his palms. Behind her, she caught a glimpse of Tisha with her phone out, frowning at what must be the Analyzer as she took in the whole scene.

When the light cleared, Robin whirled back around and brought the non-spiked edge of the board down on a reeling hoodlum’s head. The thunk and crunch of wood to scalp was nothing like the feedback of a haptic rig.

She turned to the business woman — forgotten by the boy and still huddling against the wall — offered her hand. “C’mon, we’ll get you out of here.”

The woman hesitated, but only for a second. She allowed Robin to pull her out of the fray and into the open alley, where Tisha was waiting to take her hand and lead her to safety.

Between the two fighters and the boy’s Power, they soon had the goons on the ropes. One got a lucky hit, bruising Robin’s shoulder, but that was only a parting glance as they knocked over a stack of crates and ran for their lives.

Robin barely had time to sigh and drop her board before the boy was on her, drumming her stomach with his little fists. It wasn’t hard enough to count as an attack — he must know that even accidental player-killing with ding his karma — but it did wind her.

“Camper! Hacks! This was my fight. You were too slow!”

“Kid.” Robin seized the boy’s wrists, yanking them up and pushing him away from her. He glared up at her with a face that was entirely too adorable for someone throwing such a bratty tantrum. “What the fu——frick are you even doing here? By yourself?”

The Golden Age was rated sixteen-and-up. True, there had been other young players in the Park crowd, mostly teens in the age range of middle to high school. But there was a big difference between those kids buying a pricey online game with or without their parent’s permission, and an under-ten-year-old doing the same thing. This kid, right here, looked and sounded like he might not even know that credit cards have numbers, let alone where you’d type them into an online form.

“Being a hero, duh.” The kid stuck out his tongue. “And a better one than you, you kill-stealing bitch.”

Robin was torn between her desire to slap the kid for his smart mouth and the slow, creeping realization that he was alone. Completely alone. He was a child on the streets, having the time of his life, rushing headlong into danger with one trick up his sleeve and no one to watch his back.

Fuck. He was going to get himself killed.

“What’s your name?”

“Lightboy!”

“Your real name.”

“No! You have to call me Lightboy, that’s how it works!”

“Fine. Lightboy. You’re coming with me.”

He wrenched away from her, stomping his heel at her toes, which she barely avoided by jumping back. “You’re not the boss of me. Nobody’s the boss of me! I’m Lightboy! And I’m gonna be the greatest hero ever!”

With that and a final battle cry, he slipped through Robin’s grasping hands, vaulted over the fallen crates, and ran.