“I can’t believe it!” Silas crooned. “The Karjok people, led by yours truly, completely and almost single-tentacledly upended a base full of feathered goons armed to the beak, all to save a damsel and dear friend of ours, and we discovered the dodecahedron Relic harboring the AllVerse’s untold secrets! Well, likely only twelve secrets. Still, I’m chuffed. We—”

  “Let me stop you right there.” I couldn’t bear the agony of Silas’ unsolicited exposition—as if he had any other kind. “Why are you summarizing what we just went through?” I jabbed a finger back to the broken high-rise in the distance. “We were there literally five minutes ago.”

  Sync’s owl head swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees, looking back at us while we walked the city streets. A glint of amusement flickered in her golden avian eyes, as if she enjoyed our incessant banter.

  Probably because arguing with the delt-dwelling not-octopus made me look more like an idiot than I already did. I glanced down. The blue-and-green Eldritch Horror Octo-Boxers I was stuck wearing weren’t helping my case.

  Silas rubbed his head with a tentacle. “I was just thinking, how would I describe our daring escapades to someone who hadn’t been there and just now entered the scene? Or someone who’d maybe heard what happened awhile back but couldn’t quite remember all the details?”

  This probably had something to do with Karjok lore and culture, and the mere thought of engaging with more of that storyline bored me beyond relief. “Well, we were all there, so there’s no need.”

  “Neptune’s trident, not everything’s about you,” Silas chastised. “In fact, I’m considering keeping an audio log. Think of all the people who could hear or read about our adventures. Lucky them!”

  “He’s got a point,” Sync’s head had returned to face forward again, but she’d slowed so I could catch up. “There’s a solid chance that some of the 1.3 billion people trapped in here are just observers.”

  “More like voyeurs. Ugh.” I cringed and directed my lamentation to the sky. “Who in their right mind would spend time watching someone else play video games? Playing them firsthand is a big enough waste of a life as it is.”

  “Still, what would we call this misadventure of ours?” Silas continued, unfazed. “‘Rickshaw Erik Shaw?’ Ghastly. How about ‘Shouldérmon-Slaying Silas?’ Or, ‘Criminal-Crushing Cephalopods?’”

  Blinking, I said, “You make it sound like it was just you and the Karjok back at the Godfeather headquarters. While you did help considerably, I’m pretty sure I did the heavy lifting.”

  He shrugged eight tentacles. “Your opinion, born of an attitude of human superiority and arrogance. One you must’ve pulled from the back of your siphon tube. You know, where you seem to store most of your opinions.”

  “C’mon. Most of the Karjok bullets hit everything but their intended targets. No wonder you couldn’t stick the landing when your ship crashed.”

  “That’s a low blow, mate,” Silas uttered. “You don’t know the full story. So unless you want to hear an unskippable three-hour recounting of our descent to your world, I suggest you think twice before leveling such heartless accusations. The story’s in iambic pentameter, by the way, because the Karjok are a classy people.”

  Sync clicked her beak and reconciled on our behalf. “You were both heroic. Now, we should put more distance between us and that fiasco and find a better, more secluded space to study the Relic. That thing is highly encrypted. It’ll take a minute, and Lucretia will undoubtedly send all manner of Players and NPCs to take us out and recover the dodecahedron so we can’t gain access.”

  “Agreed, but you still bear some wounds from that sordid affair.” Silas motioned to her. “Allow me to renew you.”

  Sync winced and nodded. “You’re not wrong. Please do.”

  Silas flung himself onto her shoulder, working his Karjok healing without a single slap, which still annoyed me. Anytime he healed me, he insisted on smacking me in the face.

  I deployed my rickshaw. Before Sync boarded, I stopped her, considering the wounds she’d sustained. A lot had happened up in the Godfeather headquarters, especially to her. Nate had tortured her, and though we were in a game where blood flowed as shimmering sparkles, the accompanying pain was real.

  I placed my hand on her feathered shoulder… which I still found disgusting and weird, but I tried not to let that come through in my voice or body language. I reminded myself that under her freakish lady-bird appearance, she was an absolute perfect ten.

  “Listen, are you alright? I know Nate hurt you,” I said. “I had no idea he’d go that far or completely lose his mafia-flocking mind.”

  “Indeed. His coral is cracked, most certainly. He reminds me of the dastardliest fellow ever to lurk the briny deep…Viktor.” Silas shuddered, but he kept healing Sync.

  We glanced at the Karjok, then we returned our gazes to each other.

  Sync narrowed her golden eyes, as if searching my intent. “I’m alright. I’m healed now.”

  “And you’re welcome!” Silas blurted.

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  Silence hovered between us, so I shrugged. “Okay. Just checking.”

  “But… thank you,” she murmured.

  I nodded, but I’d been staring at her owl face for too long. I cringed again. “Any chance we can get you to an Avatar Station on the way? Because the owl-woman thing is getting old.”

  She rolled her eyes and hopped onto the rickshaw seat while Silas slithered back onto my shoulder.

  “If there’s one on the way, sure, but it’s hardly a priority,” she replied. “Here, toss me the die. I’m gonna start working on this thing. It could take a while.”

  I took off down the street at nearly 30 MPH. Sync was right; the sooner we cracked that dodecahedron, the sooner we could get out of this nightmare. Then I could get back to my life. My real life, back in the real world.

  Dealing with Nate had been a brutal endeavor, and not just because he was a psychopath and a dumb-asp. Back in the Godfeather’s office, I’d dropped some bombs on him—personal ones—and the fallout had hurt me, too. I’d taunted him to create a distraction, but every word stabbed my own heart right along with Nate’s.

  I hated how that old pain still ached. I’d thought I’d moved beyond the past.

  Clearly, Nate still carried a lot of that baggage, too. But he managed his emotions about as well as a conductor steering a locomotive mid-trainwreck—just like the rest of his life—so I wasn’t surprised.

  Recalling everything that had happened to our family started to make me angry, so I stopped thinking about it. I wasn’t some mental weakling who needed help to “process my feelings,” not when the foolproof method of self-control was an option. Saved a lot of time and money compared to seeing a therapist and talking about how every little thing made me feel.

  I feel like being back in my office, enjoying my fortune and a real McCallahan scotch.

  “Shame about friend Brando, leaving him in the clutches of one so vile.” Silas’s words hauled me back into the present. “Wonder what happened after we left?”

  “He’s alive, but—oh, no…” Sync typed away on her WHIM. “His profile status is ‘Captured.’ Normally, you can’t message someone who’s been captured, but… well, maybe I can hack through to him.”

  “We must find a way to rescue him.” Silas furrowed his brow ridge. “Maybe we can pay a ransom and get him back. I wonder if the Godfathers take sand dollars? It’s been impossible to find anyone on this Neptune-forsaken planet that accepts such highbrow currency.”

  “I don’t think sand dollars are gonna save Brando from my lunatic brother.” Brando was cool and all, but I didn’t really want to invest a lot of time into saving him unless we really had to. I just needed to get out of here.

  “When we regroup, we can see about a rescue mission,” Sync added. “Given how well that last one went, we’ll need to plan better. We can’t leave him at Nate’s mercy… or lack thereof.”

  Most of the last rescue attempt had been Sync’s plan, with me rushing in early to save her once it was clear she was flocked, but I decided not to bring that up. Then again, it had worked, plus we’d gotten a Relic out of the deal, too.

  On the way to a quiet area far away from downtown Seaboard City, I passed a potential rickshaw fare. Above her head glowed a green exclamation point.

  Why not make some AllCash on the way? I’m gonna need it.

  A high school-aged girl waited on the side of the road with her hand raised. She had a high ponytail, a backpack, a chipper expression, and a uniform that implied she’d try to sell us cookies.

  When I pulled up along the curb, she raised an eyebrow and withdrew her hand. “Oh, uh… I was looking for a Zany Taxi or a Lüber. Not… whatever this is.”

  The teenager glanced at my Octo-Boxers, the mutant bird-lady sitting in the rickshaw staring at a dodecahedron as though it contained the secret of life, and the space octopus on my shoulder.

  I almost scanned her out of curiosity and force of habit, but a grown-asp man wearing only boxers and a tactical combat vest scanning a teenage girl wasn’t a good look.

  She scanned me, though, and her confusion and repulsion visibly intensified. “Rickshaw Riot? I think I’ll wait for a Lüber or a taxi…”

  “Madam!” Silas raised his tentacles. “You won’t find a finer method of transportation than our humble rickshaw. With absolutely zero carbon emissions and a percentage of every fare donated to the Karjok Displacement Fund, you’ll be happy to know you’re not only saving the environment, but more importantly, you’re helping return the Karjok people to their home planet.”

  I pinched my eyes shut. That was the worst pitch imaginable, and it was also blatantly untrue. I wouldn’t donate another AllCash cent to any Karjok. It was always some kind of emergency with them, usually self-inflicted.

  But I had to admit, they’d come in clutch with the assault on the Godfeather headquarters.

  The girl’s eyes widened, and she smiled. “Wow, so you’re like, really going green and helping the environment? That’s awesome. I’m Daisy Mae, by the way.”

  She giggled at her own rhyme.

  My eyes snapped open. There’s no way she’s buying this right now. What environment? This is a forking game world. It’s made of infinite zeros and ones stacked onto each other.

  She changed her expression to a slight pout. “Oh, and I’m sorry, I don’t know what a Karjok is, but I’m glad someone’s doing something about it. So yeah, I’ll hire you!”

  | Objective: Deliver Player Daisy Mae to Seaboard City Park |

  | Reward: $250 AllCash |

  | 200 XP |

  | Accept? Y/N |

  I accepted the fare, and Silas nodded. “A rickroll it is, then! And I can help you with your staggering ignorance along the way.”

  Daisy Mae climbed in next to Sync, who pleasantly introduced herself. Consequently, the park might be a good spot for Sync to work in peace on the dodecahedron.

  I ran down the street, pulling the two girls in the rickshaw as if they weighed nothing. Easy work, all in all—they felt far lighter than when I’d hauled the Hall of Duty guys to the Assassin’s Bleed outpost. My legs had definitely gotten stronger, despite this being a game world.

  As I ran, storm clouds rolled across the vibrant sky. I hadn’t realized we’d programmed a weather-governing system into the AllVerse. So far, we’d only experienced days, shortened nights, and clear skies with the occasional cloud or two.

  Silas swiveled on my shoulder to face Daisy Mae. “Now, as far as the Karjok, behold! For I am a prime specimen of our majestic people!”

  The girl leaned forward with interest and propped her elbows on her knees.

  I sighed, knowing I’d have to listen to Karjok lore for the entirety of this voyage. As if on cue, a crack of lightning and a peal of thunder heralded the horror of more exposition.

  Never before had I wanted noise-canceling headphones more.

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  Occam's Favor

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  Dungeon Crawler Carl Audio Immersion Tunnel for Soundbooth Theater, and he's the lead writer for the Dungeon Crawler Carl Role Playing Game.