I was about to swoop in and crush the juice out of my enemies when the Quest selection screen lit up in front of my face.

 

Phase one of your rise to power is complete: you have succeeded in consolidating power over your turf and solidifying your hold over nearby disputed streets.

 

Which way will you turn next?

 

>>> Take steps to destroy the Boss arm of Ringo-Dango, and expand your turf. “I have to fill out a form in order to take this guy out? Bureaucracy is more like it.”

 

>>> Join the Brass Crosses, stop them from coming after you, and supplant the Ringo-Dango. “They have the firepower, and those tattoos seem pretty powerful. Plus they’re in a tough spot. If you offer, they will accept.”

 

>>> Rise in the ranks of the Ringo-Dango. “The Godfather is going to need our help to stay alive right now, and we’ll be handsomely rewarded. Plus, at his right hand, maybe we can put down The Boss and take his place.”

 

>>> Turn your back on the Ringo-Dango and offer a hand to the Kebukai-Kogan. “I did as you asked. Now let me join your ultra-rich but tiny empire.”

 

I was unsuccessful in banishing this screen, and nearly picked the Ally With The Brass Crosses option, but stopped myself and slowly checked ‘No’ when the confirmation screen came up. Then breathed a sigh of relief.

After a few calming breaths, I chose Rise in the Ranks. I could take on the The Godfather once I got access to him, and the Boss was about to be small potatoes once his cybernetic dragon was a smear on my flooring. I wasn’t sure the Kebukai-Kogan were going to let me in after just a single job. No, I’d have to contact the business card guy for a second ‘screw over my confederacy from the inside’ quests and play both ends against the middle.

Hopefully this would work.

 

Achievement Unlocked! The screen shouted at me.

 

Rising to Power

Sticking with the known power is never a bad strategy, and hasn’t been for thousands of years. But picking a winner is never quite as simple as it seems. Let’s hope you’re right and you don’t end up facing a cross-based firing squad.

Reward: Rising in the Ranks Questline, Internal Politics game interface unlocked. +1 free level up.

 

I couldn’t help it this time: I started swearing. It was the type of swearing most people would be familiar with if they’d gone through 22 weeks of OSUT: One Station Unit Training. My drill sergeant would’ve been proud of the unconscious poetic vomit that spewed forth.

 

WELCOME TO LEVEL 10, GAIJIN!

 

I wanted to slot the Half The Battle card as soon as I could, and I was distracted, flying to what my mind helpfully annotated as ‘Probable Doom’, so I dumped both new points into Card Limit and briefly glanced over my sheet before dismissing it to the ether.

 

 

The game was trying to force me into a certain position again, and that wasn’t acceptable. I swooped down and into the fray. QUEST RECEIVED! I swept everything away with a frantic arm wave.

Step one: assess the situation. With my minimap up, I noted that one of the mecha-suits was already out of commission. Plasma blasts were flying every which way… and the Brass Crosses had reinforcements.

Right across from the building my people had set up a defensive half circle of mobile walls and barricades, putting the building at their backs. Others had balcony positions and were sniping at the mecha suits. As for the mecha suits themselves, three of them were advancing on the front door, while two were airborne and trying to take out the sniper positions.

A large, armored van sprayed over with crosses and profanity had pulled up and disgorged a full eighteen tattooed gangsters. I spotted another one speeding up from the south, and let the miniguns do their thing. I wasn’t good enough to target and blast things to smithereens while diving at over a hundred miles an hour, especially not with the tactical weaving the driver was engage in. The cross van was zig-zagging this way and that, with a grinning demonic face painted over the center of the roof, taunting me.

I pulled up just short of splattering myself on the pavement and stomped down on the cross van hard. My aim with the mecha suit was a tad off though, and I got the front end instead of the face, smashing into the engine block and killing the motor in a blast of smoke and oily flame. The explosion blew me onto my back, and sent the van up into the air… over my defenses and into the front door of my building.

I stared in dazed disbelief. That was not right. The physics were all wrong.

I couldn’t dwell on it, though. Brass Crosses were flying out of it left and right. A bunch of them were DOA: with smoking holes center mass before they even hit the ground. Several others landed bodily on my security people. The last two dove out of the van before it smashed into the lobby floor. Those two were inside the perimeter.

“Breach!” I screamed. “Two infiltrators in the lobby!”

Then I took off and slammed my suit into one of the airborne Brass Crosses, using my mecha suit to tear the limb off the opposition. I used the thrusters to throw him downwards, aimed my miniguns, and let him have it. His blue mecha suit health bar drained out real fast, followed by an orange bar with several exclamation points beneath it, reading ‘risk of explosion’.

“Good,” I said, and blew the whole thing to bits.

Below, my security forces were being pushed into a turtle position. They’d taken out the Brass Crosses inside the building somehow, dealt with the ones I’d accidentally rained down upon them, and were now faced with three mecha suits and another 18 infantry.

Seemed like a good time to try to learn that Half the Battle card and put it to good use. I brought it up and focused in on it.

 

Learn Chance 50% Would you like to study this skill now? Y/N

 

That was close. Too damn close. I tapped my Smoker’s Wit, raising the Learn Chance to 51%, then chose yes. For a heartbeat the numbers whirled in their places, my breath held in stasis as I waited for the outcome.

 

51

 

I bellowed in triumph, activating the card plus Bruiser, bestowing a bevy of bonuses on my people down below.

I opened up another call while raining down fire from both of my Haruken Mk I Plasma Blasters..

“Hey, Phil, where’s Patches?”

I could hear Phil grunting with exertion. “Just… about… got…”

“Doug, where’s my magic?”

“You don’t rush miracles, Poombah.” Doug’s unmistakable lazy voice came over the comms. “If you do, you get sloppy miracles.”

Once again I was forced to swallow my fury. “Okay Sug, I’m hitting the lobby now. You ready?”

“Roger that, Poombah,” he said. “Five by five.”

I was just about to land when a portal opened up in my periphery. A good six feet off the ground, directly in front of the cross infantry, my best boy leapt out of nowhere with his barks on loudspeaker. The mecha suit was again on all fours, and now instead of cannons, it had claws attached.

It looked awesome.

One tattooed Crosser said something and his tattoes flared, sending him flying backwards out of Patches’ sweep, but he managed to hit three others, flinging them through the air and into a stack of their allies. Then, before the cross mechs could react, he’d bounded over to one of them and ripped its top-mounted weapons right off.

“Atta boy!” I shouted. Patches needed me though. He had two other mecha suits on his tail, blasting purple-white flashes of energy into his chassis.

“Poombah, come on now!”

Sug had already located the entry hatch handle and was climbing inside.

“Good luck,” I told him as I brushed past, on my way out. I then called out to everyone at once, with the holographic phone. “I need to know where that dragon is!”

Nolan appeared from behind Sug with a pair of gleaming silvery cartridge things the size of a gaming console each. “No problem, Poombah!”

I left a stream of orders trailing after me: check over that way, reinforce this position, get that man to a medic, and most importantly: get a refrigerator out here, stat. With power.

I definitely needed to buy a car, or one of these powered armors, and have a fridge installed. That way I could have Calamari anywhere I went.

The people cheered when I hopped the barrier and went sailing past into the fray.

With holographic phone in hand, I called out, “I need a fix on Chuck’s position, ASAP. Whoever can tell me where he is gets a dozen cookies.”

I blasted through several Brass Crosses who were presently peppering Patches with small arms fire. Their tattooes were glowing, projecting a visible energy field that contoured over the shapes of their bodies, but the clawed sweeps of the doggy mech were well superior to these energy defenses. The Crosses were knocked back, and sent into a guarded withdrawal.

A Cross mecha blasted plasma at Patches, at Patches growled in response, the sound echoing loudly through the loudspeaker. “Bad Brass Crosses!” the mecha suit said, before seizing one of the mecha’s legs and tearing it off.

I was impresssed. It was assuredly a random critical, but it absolutely looked planned.

The Cross inside popped his hatch and abandoned ship. Just in time too, as Patches’ mecha tore into his new chew toy, tearing strips and pieces off the now abandoned piece of armor tech. The main ball of the cockpit sailed away, bounced once, and promptly exploded.

He loped toward me, tongue lolling  and tail wagging. “Patches is a good boy?” the mecha suit asked.

“You betcha, buddy. You’re the best. Now, you go clear out these other bad Brass Crosses, and I’ll see what I can do about these two mecha suits.”

“Right!” he barked.

“Somebody get a fix on Chuck’s position!” I shouted into the comms.

An angry scream drifted down from above. I received a call from Jack at the same time.

I accepted the call.

“Up here, Poombah,” that unmistakable voice said. “Come face me.”

Chuck had Jack dangling from the roof of my building.