by Dan Wells
“I’ll take a Lift, if you have it,” said Marisa. “Fang, you want anything?”
“Lychee Ramune,” said Fang.
“I don’t think there’s any way he has Ramune,” said Jaya.
Fang smiled, just the barest, tiniest hint of one, and Marisa laughed out loud.
“You okay?” asked Omar, placing a bottle of ice-cold Lift on a coaster in front of her.
“I just . . .” She smothered her grin, unreasonably happy at hearing Fang make a joke. “I’m fine. Thanks for the drink.”
“Lift is great for everyone,” said Sahara. She walked slowly around the wide couch, surveying the room. “I’ve never been inside before. Nice place.”
“Believe it or not,” said Omar, gesturing at the room, “most of this was gifts.” He popped the cap off another bottle of Lift and set it on the bar for Sahara, then went to work on more bottles for the others. “One of the things I’ve learned working for my father is that money’s primary purpose is not to be spent; it’s to be given away. You donate to this group, you donate to that group, you grease wheels and palms and everything else you can find, and things just start working out for you. Most businesses deal in goods or services; my father deals in favors.”
He’s setting the expectations, thought Marisa. He knows we’re here to ask for something, and he’s letting us know that it’s not going to be free.
Omar set out a bottle of Lift for Anja, and another for Jaya, then a smaller, oddly shaped bottle for Fang. “Ramune,” he said, and winked at her. “One of our more recent favors was done for a Japanese shipping company. I love the stuff, but I hate the little marble.”
“Donations,” said Sahara, “are exactly what we’re here to talk about.”
“Only if your cookies are gluten free,” said Omar. “Some of our staff are kind of sensitive. And I’ll admit I’m a bit upset you’re not wearing the little uniforms.”
Sahara clenched her teeth into a forced smile. “It’s actually for a—”
“Ay, no me vengan,” said a woman’s voice. Marisa looked to the far end of the room and saw La Princesa, wearing nothing but skintight leggings and a sports bra. She eyed the five girls with obvious disgust. “These are a little younger than your normal girls, Omar—oh, disculpe, I didn’t recognize you. It’s Beef Jerky.” She glared at Marisa disdainfully, and minced back behind the bar.
“Hello, Franca,” said Marisa. “Late night?”
A message popped up from Sahara: Please don’t antagonize them.
La Princesa stared daggers at her. “Who goes out on a weeknight?”
“Sorry,” said Marisa. “I was just trying to cover for you.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “You forgot to get dressed.”
La Princesa fumed, but Omar threw his head back and laughed. “Flaca likes to give the guards a show when she does her yoga,” he said, still chuckling. “It’s her own form of charitable donation.”
“Cállate,” said La Princesa.
“Vete,” Omar shot back. “I’m trying to have a civilized conversation here. Go.” He shooed her away, and she sneered as she grabbed a drink of her own and left.
“Are you sure this is a good time?” asked Sahara.
“It’s as good a time as any,” said Omar. “My father’s busy, and the guards are too good at their jobs to come barging in like that. With Flaca gone we’re practically alone.”
“What about Jacinto?” asked Marisa. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“And you won’t,” said Omar. “He’s probably listening, but ever since the accident he doesn’t do ‘public’ anymore.”
“He’s listening?” asked Jaya.
“Hello, Jacinto,” Anja called out. The giant wall screen flickered, the blue water and brightly colored fish were replaced for just a half a second with a scene of destruction: red skies and shattered buildings and mushroom clouds boiling through the air, and then just as suddenly it was back to the fish, drifting tranquilly through the water. Anja grinned. “See?”
“Holy balls,” said Sahara, her eyes wide. “Does he do that often?”
“Only if he wants our attention,” said Omar. “Honestly, I barely ever see him myself.”
Sahara grimaced. “It’s like living in a haunted house.”
Marisa looked around the room, wondering where the camera was hidden, or maybe cameras plural. She did her best to smile comfortingly, just in case Jacinto could see her, and realized she was holding her metal arm to her chest. She didn’t know exactly what Jacinto had lost in that car crash, but it was way more than just an arm.
A thought occurred to her: Jacinto had been ten years old in the accident. Did he know the truth? Could she even find a way to ask him?
“So,” said Sahara. “I know that we haven’t always been on the best of terms in the past—”
“You say that like it’s our fault,” shouted Anja. “He put a virus in my head and controlled my mind!”
“Anja!” shouted Sahara. “Will you please let me finish!”
Remember why we’re doing this, Marisa sent to her. Anja closed her eyes and nodded.
Sahara looked back at Omar. “We need fifteen thousand yuan.”
His eyes went wide, but he recovered quickly. “That’s what I like about you girls: you are endlessly surprising.”
“We know it’s a lot—” started Marisa, but Omar waved her quiet with his hand.
“The amount isn’t an issue,” he said. “If I like what you’re going to do with it.”
Sahara nodded, glanced at the other girls, and then looked back at Omar with her most professional demeanor. “Mirador is dying,” she said.
Omar shrugged. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Most people can barely afford to live—”
“You need rent money?” asked Omar.
“No,” said Sahara.
“You want to save the restaurant?” he asked. “Done. I’ll give you thirty thousand if you need it.”
“You know Carlo Magno would never accept it,” said Sahara. “We’re here for more of a . . . business deal. The high price of telecom service is bleeding this city dry, and neighborhoods like Mirador are being squeezed even harder than most—”
“We want to take down KT Sigan,” said Marisa. Omar didn’t want to hear all this background stuff; he wanted the juicy details. “We’ve hacked them, and we’ve found a way to crush them, but we need your help. Fifteen thousand yuan, and Sigan goes away—not from everywhere, but at least from here. Out of LA, maybe out of the US entirely.”
Omar stared at them, so silent they could hear the sound of a distant hose from the man washing cars in the garage. After a moment Omar laughed. “And here I thought you surprised me before. You’ve just moved past ‘shocking’ and all the way to ‘flabbergasting.’”
“There’s no way that’s a real word,” said Anja.
“How can you bring down KT Sigan with fifteen thousand yuan?” he asked.
Marisa nodded. “We’ve found financial information that—”
“Our methods are our own,” said Sahara. “You either trust us or you don’t; the plan is beside the point.”
“Fair enough,” said Omar. “And I’ve certainly seen your skills up close and personal, so I have no reason to doubt you.” Marisa started to thank him, but he cut her off with a look. “But lack of doubt is not the same as active trust.”
“Cut the Scheiße and pay us,” said Anja.
“If Mirador falls,” said Marisa, “so do the Maldonados. You run this neighborhood like feudal lords—like it’s your kingdom. But a king without a kingdom is just another homeless guy.”
“Sigan is destroying Mirador,” said Omar. “If you’ve noticed it, I promise you that my father and I have noticed the same. If people can’t afford a basic utility, they start not paying for luxuries, and then the shops and the restaurants start going out of business, and people start moving out, and crime goes up and the utility companies charge more to cover for the
lost customers and it’s a vicious spiral that destroys neighborhoods. This year alone Mirador’s had more Red Drinking Days than the previous two years combined, and it’s only July. Get rid of Sigan’s predatory pricing and the situation starts to normalize again. We’re doing what we can—I know you think we’re monsters, but at least give us credit as monsters who love our city. But there’s only so much we can do. And we definitely can’t destroy an international megacorp. No one can.”
“Except another international megacorp,” said Jaya.
Omar stared at them, appraising them like a jeweler with a tray full of stones. Would he see diamonds, or zinc?
“Fifteen thousand yuan,” he said at last. He paused again, then smiled wickedly. “Even if you fail, just the privilege of watching is the bargain of the century.”
“Then watch the final match of Forward Motion,” said Marisa. “It’ll be a doozy.”
Omar grinned. “I never miss a Cherry Dogs game.”
“So you’ll help us?” asked Sahara.
“I’d be a fool not to.”
“Don’t you need to talk to your father?” asked Marisa. “I thought that we’d convince you, and then you’d convince him.”
“I can speak for my father,” said Omar. “It’s part of my role in the business.”
“Wait,” said Anja. “One last time, just for the hell of it, let’s ask ourselves if this is really worth it. We know him. Can we really trust him?”
The coral reef disappeared again, though this time it was replaced by a small grassy hill covered with little white rabbits.
“What does that mean?” asked Jaya.
“It means this house is creepy,” said Sahara.
“It’s fluffy bunnies,” said Omar. “What’s creepy about that?” He looked at Sahara a moment, but she looked back without speaking. “He’s saying you should trust us.”
The bunnies disappeared, but nothing replaced them.
The girls looked at each other. Sahara caught Anja’s gaze and held it. “I know you don’t trust Omar,” she said. “Do you trust me?”
It felt like forever before Anja answered. “Yes.”
“Done, then,” said Omar. “I hope cash is okay?”
“Perfect,” said Sahara.
“Where should I have it delivered?” he asked. “Sahara’s place?”
“To this address,” said Marisa, and blinked to send him the drop location C-Gull had arranged for the payment. She felt grateful and wary at the same time. “What do we owe you?”
“Didn’t I make that clear when we started?” said Omar. “You owe me a favor.”
TWENTY-FIVE
“All right,” said Sahara. “This is it: round two. The quarterfinal.” She bounced on her toes behind the curtain, shaking her nervousness out through her fingers. “We’re ready for this.”
“Ready,” said Marisa. Fang, Anja, and Jaya echoed her: “Ready.”
Earlier that morning, Pixel Pwnies had won in a bye, and World2Gether had won their match against the Glitches, with no small amount of “lucky” lag spikes helping them along. Marisa felt guilty cheering for Sigan’s team, but she couldn’t help herself: if Chaewon’s team was eliminated early, she might close the server exploit she was using to cheat, and Marisa needed that exploit open on Saturday.
But first, she thought, we need to make it to Saturday.
“Next up,” said Su-Yun, “coming back from their stunning victory yesterday, the Cherry Dogs!” Marisa and her friends ran through the curtain, cheering and waving at the audience. Su-Yun smiled at them, then turned back to the audience. “Facing them today, on behalf of Eaql Communications, the Turkish national champions and Mediterranean regional champions: Canavar!” The Turkish team ran out to stand beside the Cherry Dogs, looking smug and superior. They were one of the best teams in the tournament. Marisa did her best to think positive thoughts: Of course we can beat the Mediterranean regional champs.
No sweat.
The Canavar Sniper, one of the two boys on the team, turned toward Marisa and discreetly flipped her off, carefully hidden from the cameras. Marisa ignored him.
When they finished their game, Your Mom would be playing Get Rekt Nerd, and the Cherry Dogs would play the winner on Friday in the semifinal. Marisa wondered which team they’d have a better chance against, but then shook her head and forced the thought out of her mind. They had to focus on this match first, or none of the rest of them mattered.
And Alain would disappear forever.
“Huddle up,” said Sahara, and gathered the team in a tight circle. “We can do this: it’s going to be hard, but we can do this. Our first win was pure luck, but that’s going to help us here, and you know why? Because Canavar’s going to underestimate us. You saw their faces—they could barely be bothered to wake up this morning. They think they’ve got it in the bag already. Stay sharp, listen to my calls, and back each other up. Hands together.”
The put their hands in the middle of the circle, and shouted in unison: “Cherry Dogs forever!”
They sat down and plugged in, and moments later were standing in their private lobby. Marisa had chosen her favorite avatar, which was basically herself in a black stealth suit with red piping on the edges. Sahara wore her classic red dress, Fang wore her ragged shadow assassin costume, and Jaya was in one of her countless flowing, ethereal fantasy dresses. Anja, of course, was the odd one out: her avatar was dressed in a tutu, woolly rainbow socks, and a bulky blue sweater, with drooping fairy wings and a plastic magic wand.
“You look like a four-year-old playing dress-up,” said Sahara.
“You look like a seventeen-year-old playing dress-up,” said Anja.
Sahara raised an eyebrow but said nothing and turned to the group. “I want to do something flashy. We’ve got two viral videos under our belt so far, so let’s go for another one. Just because we’ve got other things to play for doesn’t mean we can’t win a few more fans along the way.”
“Play crazy!” said Anja.
Sahara nodded. “Keep your powersets basic: good all-around powers; good damage, defense, the whole thing. We don’t know what Canavar’s going to throw at us, so we need to be ready for anything. But here’s the fun part: part of being ready for anything is staying mobile. I want everyone to play Flankers.”
“Ooh,” said Jaya. “I like it.”
“That’ll help us move around the map better and adapt to whatever they throw at us,” said Sahara. “It also means no ranged powersets, though, so stock up on melee, buffs, and debuffs. Heartbeat and Quicksand, grab some crowd control to help manage the fights. Anja, we’ll hold you back for wave-two picks.”
“We’re in the game now,” said Anja, and waved her toy wand dramatically. “Call signs only!”
“Fine,” said Sahara. “HappyFluffySparkleTime, we’ll hold you back for wave-two picks. Let Heartbeat protect you, go high damage, and pick an element that targets their weaknesses.”
“Jawohl,” said Anja, and then the timer ended and they were thrown into the powerset selection screen. The four of them locked in their powers, and they waited to see what Canavar had chosen. The timer ended, and the game posted the first-wave picks. The Cherry Dogs studied them eagerly.
“Lots of defense,” said Marisa.
“They’re going tanky,” said Jaya.
“Not just tanky,” said Fang, “they’re going for late game. Look at those powersets: Earth Melee? Magic Defense? Every one of those powersets is slow and steady, ramping up to a killer finale. By the time we hit the forty-five-minute mark they’ll be unbeatable.”
“I’ve seen this team build before,” said Sahara. “Watch: they held back their General for wave two, but I guarantee she’s going to go Defender with Light-Based Buff and Ranged. It’s the best late-game combo in the catalog. So, Anja, go . . . Dark Melee?”
“No,” said Anja.
“There’s no time to argue about the call sign,” said Sahara, looking at the timer. “Pick now, or you’ll forfeit yo
ur slot.”
“Not that,” said Anja. “We have an opportunity to absolutely roll them. You want to play crazy?” She pointed at the display of Canavar’s loadouts. “This is the best chance we’re ever going to get.”
“Thirty seconds,” said Marisa.
“They expect me to pick Dark Melee,” said Anja. “They’re already specced against it with their other players. But if I go Tech Defense instead, their elements will be weak against me until they’ve leveled way up. They might be unstoppable at forty-five minutes, but they won’t be able to touch us for the first thirty.” She punched one hand into the other. “So we blitz them and win in twenty-nine.”
“Nobody plays positions,” said Fang, nodding in approval. “We ignore basic defense, we hammer the turrets, and they can’t do anything to stop us.”
“Fifteen seconds,” said Marisa.
“This is insane,” said Sahara.
“Only against any other team build in the world, yes,” said Anja. She selected the powersets, and held her hand over the big red button that would lock them in. “Against this team, we’ll destroy them.”
“Ten seconds,” said Marisa. “Come on.”
“Do it,” said Jaya.
“Seven seconds!” said Marisa.
Sahara sighed. “Play crazy.”
Anja reached for the button . . .
. . . and the game froze.
Marisa’s stomach seemed to plummet into a bottomless hole.
A lag spike.
They were going to lose Anja, forfeiting her spot because she hadn’t locked in her powers by the end of the allotted time. Had Chaewon done this? Was she, or her lackey, watching with her finger on a button, laughing?
The game wasn’t unfreezing. Why wasn’t it unfreezing? How long would they have to wait? The timer had run out ages ago—
And then the game moved again, and Anja slammed her hand on the button over and over again, desperate to make it count: “Come on come on come on!”
One second left. The timer finished, and Anja was in.
“That almost gave me a heart attack,” said Sahara.
