That same empty feeling followed us into Heso Market. The brothel where I’d been accused of being a robophobe stood derelict, almost haunted looking in the dusk of the ending day. The dancing hologram signs now seemed sad and pathetic without people moving every which way.

At least those few that remained.

That wasn’t exactly true, as it turned out, because a lot of doors were nudged open just a tad. People were definitely here, but not outside.

“Spooky,” Ice said, heavy with the sarcasm.

“Let’s get a bit of cover,” I said. “I don’t like this. Actually, now that I think about it, this place is about four stories high in most places. Why don’t we get to the high ground?”

We all headed to the mecha suits, grabbed onto the handholds and took briefly to the sky. I honestly couldn’t fathom how the nano bots were handling spontaneous flight, but I couldn’t say I cared much. Just a few days ago you’d have to gamble your whole life savings to get a few days of this. Either that or you’d have to commit murder and play the life or death version.

Oof, yeah. All of humanity had ended up in the Dungeonworld version of this game, rather than the pampered, screw-anyone-you-wanted millionaires-only upgrade. Still, it was a hell of a thing.

A few seconds later we were atop the nearest building, with Dragon and Ice hugging the retaining wall to scan the market below for unfriendlies. Phil used the portable wall shield thing to create some extra cover, while Sug and Patches stood proudly in their powered armor.

I didn’t think Hina would automatically shoot me with a sniper rifle… this Deus Ex thing worked on game rules, but I also felt an undercurrent of story tropes being followed as well. In a movie they’d have to kill one of the griefers first, if this was a war film, or a warning shot if it was pretty much any other kind of movie.

An explosion echoed through the streets, along with one of the walls lighting up. Dragon turned to me, and I shrugged.

“I guess we go toward the explosions.”

Chuckles followed.

We had almost reached the corner that would give us visibility on whatever the hell was going on, when Hina burst around the corner, skidded to a stop, and stared at me wide-eyed.

“Hina,” I said, eyes wide while I took in her new outfit.

Instead of her cyber chainmail bikini outfit from the shop or the oversized pajama shirt, she had on thick metallic silver boots over form-fitting stretchy kind of yoga pants, and a tactical vest with a fricking jet pack on her back. In one hand she held a small blaster pistol, and in the other a huge honking rifle, but she also had thick electronic gauntlets that were definitely full of weapons of some kind. Covering her head was a helmet to match the boots, with a pinkish goggle shield thing. Like the cockpit bubble on the mecha suits, it flashed with all sorts of readouts for Hina, with a lot of flashing red.

Worst, her health bar was two thirds depleted.

She sighed. “Dirk Stone. You here to try and collect that bounty? Ugh. Shoot me already and get it over with. Just like my granddad.”

“I didn’t kill your grandfather!” I shook my head. “Anyway I’m here to rescue you.”

“Well then, start pulling your weight,” she said, and blasted off on rocket boots. She arced up a good five floors before smashing awkwardly into the roof of another building nearby. Half her body dangled off, and it was easy to see why: the jetpack had been damaged.

A second later, we got front row seats to the ‘what wants to kill Hina’ special.

The first group was a series of tattooed ninjas. Most of them had on hoods and loose-fitting ninja style clothes, and most were sleeveless. As for the tattoos, they glowed with fluorescent light: dragons, flowers, clouds, koi, and grinning demon guys. I gave them a quick examine.

“Nightclub ninjas,” I read.

They were camped in closer than I would have liked, their sentries standing silently along our northern flank, staring into Heso market. Damn, there were a lot of them too. Enough so that I wondered why they hadn’t tried to storm the place yet.

But then my eyes followed along to the rubble field of their western flank, a place where another widely spaced line of ninjas stood vigil and I saw a second besieging army. One that was obviously not on friendly terms with them.

The second group was an intimidating bunch. Red reptilian skin and draconic heads encased slitted yellow reptilian eyes. This faction strutted about in samurai armor, wielding katanas that sparked and spat. Even from this distance I could see plumes of smoke rise from their nostrils.

"The Celestial Divine," their name proclaimed.

Draconians. I couldn't help but feel a bit jealous looking over their natural armor and understanding their innate attack and probably magical abilities. Had they been available in the character creation? If they had, it was one of the myriad of locked out races that I hadn’t had access to.

And would have loved to.

I narrowed my gaze. Why was I thinking like this might be a playable race? I considered their layout before me, their distinct camp and their positioning.

And then it hit me. A couple of them were leafing through a deck of cards, obviously talking about what was on them. I’d picked up on it, subconsciously. Some of those people were players.

I shook my head. I was going to have to try to get those guys out first. See if I couldn't get them to join my team, Team Real-Human. And if they didn't, I would fight them. But at some point I was going to capture at least one of those rat bastards. Because if we could choose new races, it was on.

I cast about, looking for the third enemy faction. There they were, located to the south of our position, much more distant then the other two but it was easy to see why. At least three field artillery pieces stuck up from behind makeshift barricades, a flag of the rising sun fluttering over them. The game name Bonsai floated above them all.

I could make out the turret of at least one armored vehicle as well. Assumedly something light and urban-capable, but given the level of tech all around us, I didn't discount the possibility that it might hover or even fly.

“Boss, that thing is on spider legs,” Sug muttered.

"Those guys are going to be a lot of trouble," I muttered.

Ice stood next to me gazing in the same direction, seeing all the same things. "Yep," the cav scout muttered, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "But if you can get us into that tank, Sug will love you forever."

“Oh shut it,” Sug said. But his eyes gleamed as he cast another look over to the thing.

“Yeah, screw it. Each faction is roughly equal strength. So if one storms the marketplace, it will lose enough troop strength to be unable to defeat either of the other factions. They are all waiting for the other to attack first. It’s a stalemate and all of them are thinking about each other, not even worried about us in the middle. So here’s the plan. Ice, Sug and me, we’re going to sneak out South, see if we can’t steal that tank and set off that artillery to hit ninjas. The dragons, well, I saw at least a couple of real humans in there so I’m going to want to have a chance to give them a talking to first. But push comes to shove we’ll kill them. Just last.”

Hina stared at me. Her eyes were wide and glassy. “You’re going to do all of this for, what, a hug? What’s in it for you?” she asked.

I laughed. “An alliance if I can convince you. Oh, and a tank for Sug.”

I shared a look with Sug, then Ice. “Mech jump down. Dragon, you watch our suits. We’re going to have to go in ultra-quiet. But, I don’t think it’ll be too hard until they get riled. They aren’t expecting us all here in the middle to do anything. We’re the prey. They’re worried about predators.”

I cast a pointed look at the ninja camp. They took the hint. I turned and waved to Hina, then activated the jump rockets, almost in sync with my men, riding them down to a jump finish on the street below. I saw her peering over the edge of the building at us as we popped out of our suits and I waved at her again.

“Don’t wait up. Might take a while. Oh, and think about that alliance thing I was talking about.”

Hina muttered something dirty in Japanese and her head disappeared from view. Which was fine. Boring conversation anyways.

Moving forward, the three of us kept behind buildings and market rubble as much as possible. Gone were the holograms and many of the neon lights of the district. Quite a few bodies lay in puddles of their own gore. Some had simply become gore, no physical substance left to bind them into a single shape.

The place had been hit hard, probably by all three armies at the same time. No wonder they were keeping eyes on each other. Heso Marketplace was just about finished.

Making our way to the edge of the sector, I saw where defenders had erected a series of makeshift walls out of all of the rubble that had been falling around them. There were several holes and they hadn’t done a great job, but they’d serve me and my men fine as a dark backdrop in the dying light of the day.

I was feeling motivated. Dedicated. Never to be dominated. Hoorah.

I looked at my men, hunched down and making their way slowly forward. We had about 40 feet of separation between each of us so that a sudden burst of suppression fire on a well-thrown grenade couldn’t catch us with our underwear around our ankles.

 

You’ve succeeded an Infiltration check!

 

I met eyes with Sug and Ice and saw they’d just gotten the same thing. Piece of cake.

Half an hour and a +1 in infiltration later, we were at the perimeter and we had our first good look at Bonsai. The soldiers wore dark orange uniforms that were puffy and flowed at the knees. None of them had helmets and all of their heads had been shaven bare.

They looked like Buddhist monks. Monks with AK-47s on their shoulders. And one guy with a plasma rifle.

None of them worried me. But as we got closer, now coming together and high crawling up a slope filled with rubbish, I caught sight of a dude floating in mid-air, three eyes on his face, all of them closed.

“Crap. Wizard. Or mage. Whatever. I’m thinking boss battle,” I whispered to Ice just five feet over.

Ice winced. “Yeah, dude looks like he’s gonna rock us out like another Vietnam. Got a plan, Poombah?”

I shook my head no. Then my eyes widened. Where the hell had Sug gotten off to?

It was then that we heard the roar of twin V-750 diesel turbines. Someone had just started up the tank. It smelled like a Bradley, to be honest. The sweet-stink of it spread out to fill the area while coal-black smoke blasted into the sky from an upward-facing exhaust port.

Ice cracked up into laughter and I did too as monks all over froze, staring about in confused wonder . . . and started to get the karma blown out of them by a 240 coaxial machine gun. Sug had taken the tank! He was laying down anti-infantry fire, sweeping bullets over the massed mob.

“Permission to engage, Poombah?” Ice asked, a grin wide on his face and his rifle stuck hard into the groove of his shoulder.

“Permission granted.”