Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Drawing Dragons

As he watched Madame Merriam poke and prod Happy Hour, he looked around at the mess she was creating.

Her floor was littered with papers of carious sized. All bearing half finished designs, alongside random words and phrase. Most of which were crossed out, though she’d circled one or two.

Jester knew he hadn’t known the woman long, but even to him, this seemed out of character.

After what seemed like hours, she finally let Happy Hour off the platform. Without a word, she gestured for them to leave. Head buried in a notebook as she waved a pen in the air.

He didn’t stick around to ask questions. More than happy to make his way outside.

The issue became he had nothing left to do. With both Kylee and Madame Merriam working, there was no mission to complete. No preparations for the battle that needed to be seen to.

They were on their own, at least for today.

“Where to now, Jester?” Happy Hour asked. “Are we heading back to see Kylee?”

“Nah, she won’t want to be disturbed.” Jester shrugged as he started moving towards The Outskirts. “Plus, I have to log off soon.”

“Of course.” Happy Hour beamed as she nodded. “You need to take care of yourself outside this place. It’s important for your health.”

That statement made him smile. Her words sounded rehearsed, meaning it was probably a stock phrase the company gave to any robot capable of speech. One to make sure the player base was staying stuff, or at least to cover them if questioned on the topic.

“Jester?” Happy Hour asked as they moved through the crowds.

Her words sounded unsure. A fact that made him curious.

“Yes?”

“What do you want to do after we win the finals cup?”

He almost bumped into a woman wearing a bright yellow raincoat and carrying an ornamental duck. She frowned at him as he dodged around her. Not that he paid her much mind. Too focused on the question.

Before, it’d been easy. Sell Happy Hour, use the proceeds from that to buy out Markal and open his own store. Now, though? Well, he couldn’t deny still wanting to do the last bit. However, not having Happy Hour by his side when he did? That seemed so strange to him now.

He’d seen her happy as could be when she was serving tea and chatting with people. DollmakerMC designed her as a serving android, after all.

“I’d like to open my own store.”

“You want to become a mechanic like Kylee?” The polite curiosity in her voice was almost enough to hide what a bad idea she thought that was.

Jester snorted in laughter. “No, not at all. I want to buy out Markal, or copy his business. Do decals and similar jobs.”

“You paint?”

She stepped around a small avatar who tried to get in her way. The player yelled insults, but Jester ignored them. They were hardly relevant.

“Occasionally. Though not as often as I’d like, and not with any regularity in here. Paints are too expensive.” He knew he’d sounded wistful as he spoke.

“That’s a shame. I’d like to see your work.” Happy Hour smiled at him.

“Maybe when I get my next piece done. I so most of my painting work on robopets. If we get Whiskers back, I might give him a once over.”

He laughed at the idea of it. The way the kitten acted, maybe a nightgown? They sure slept a lot. Then again, some kind of royal garment might work. Jester still remembered the robopets designed to be carried down from the rooftops.

“I’m sure Mrs. Shivit would love that.”

“You’d know all about what people would love, wouldn’t you?” Came a voice he recognized as the big man who’d blocked his path.

Sure enough, he spotted the player standing there. Dressed in the same leather jacket as he’d worn the previous time. His broken teeth showed in his smile, and a bubble was being formed around him.

Jester sighed. They couldn’t seriously be doing this again, could they? Kylee wasn’t paying them this time.

“What do you want?” There was no fear in his voice. “I have to log out soon.”

“I wanted to apologize,” the big man said. “To say how sorry I am for doing what we did to you. It wasn’t right.”

Snickers came from around them, one or two full-blown giggles.

“Thanks, I guess.” Jester nodded. “I appreciate it, and we forgive you. We still have to be going.”

“Relax man.”

The big man took a step forward and flashed his broken teeth again. “We just want to say how proud we are of what you’ve been doing in the cups. In fact, so proud BikerBrawler13 himself has offered you a chance to come fight him.”

“I have to log off.”

“Oh, we didn’t mean today. Before the next match. Which is what a Saturday? So a Friday then. You can do that?”

“I actually have a date that day.”

A series of coos and awwing rose from the gathered group.

“How sweet. But I’m sure you can make time. Midday. Junkyard. Eastern Gate. Meet me there. Do not make me come and find you.”

He didn’t give Jester a chance to respond. The big man turned on his heel and walked away. Others following in his wake, like school children following their teacher.

“At least they didn’t attack us this time,” Happy Hour said.

“True, though now we have a fight we have to do. A streamed battle, no doubt.”

“Does that mean I’ll have a bigger audience?” Happy Hour looked excited, even as she followed him once more.

“It does indeed.” Jester focused on his route, dodging around people as needed. He swore a few attempted to block him on purpose. “At least there isn’t anything on the line.”

“A pleasant change.” Happy Hour smiled as she spoke. “Still, why do you think he wants to fight us?”

“Clout.”

There was no doubt in his mind. Happy Hour’s victory would be a well-discussed topic. The chance to get her into his stream wouldn’t be something to pass up. BikerBrawler13’s viewership would spike as soon as she turned up.

That was why he figured they’d approached him so publicly as well. A show like that would generate interest.

“What do you think will happen when we win?” Happy Hour sounded so sure when she spoke. “Will he be willing to help us?”

“It’s possible,” Jester said. “But it won’t be easy. His robot isn’t a pushover.”

As they talked, Geartown turned into The Outskirts, and they started the familiar walk to Markal’s shop. The old NPC was in, painting a robotic leg clamped in a vice attached to his bench. His aged hands moved with steady determination as he added lines around the joints. One’s that Jester knew made it stand out more.

As they entered, he looked up from his work.

“Jester, my dear boy!”

“Hi, Mr Markal.” Jester waved at the NPC as he guided Happy Hour to the diagnostic bench.

“And this is your new robot, yes?” He pointed towards Happy Hour, who gave a small curtsy in greeting. “I talked to Mrs. Shivit. She said she was quite the polite young lady.”

“Thank you, sir.” Happy Hour rose from her curtsy and smiled at him. “That means a lot to me.”

“No bother, no bother. Any companion of Jester is a good egg in my book.” His attention moved back to Jester at that. “Are you here for more work? I have a few pieces I could use your help with. Even have some spare credits you could have.”

His hands itched at the idea. However, as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t.

“Not today. I might have some spare time this week if that’s alright. Are they due soon?”

Mr. Markal waved him away. “Is anyone ever needing them soon? Take your time. They’ll wait.”

NPC pieces then. Jobs created so Mr. Markal could give out quests. They would vanish into the ether when he was done. Still, the experience of it was always fun. With a nod, he decided.

Though he needed to log off, biological needs and employment called. When he logged back in, he’d get some work done. If Happy Hour wanted to see what he could do. This was as good a chance as any. Plus, if he wanted to paint Whiskers, the last thing he should be was rusty.

“What kind of projects?” Jester looked around the bits and pieces of the room. None of it stood out as anything impressive.

“A full suit of old armor. One of mine, actually. I always intended it to be a display piece to showcase my work. Never got around to it, though. Take that as advice, boy. Do things when you want to do them. If you put them off, it’ll never get done.”

“Thank you for the words, Mr. Markal.”

“Yes, yes. Off with you now. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“Bye Jester.” Happy Hour’s words were the last he heard before he logged off.

***

When Jester reappeared, it was to a scene he wasn’t expecting.

At first, he thought that Happy Hour was gone. Worry filled him at the thought. Inside the store stood Markal. His hand resting on the Pauldron of a dull suit of armor.

No one else was around, and the workshop was quiet. He tensed, expecting to hear Happy Hour’s chipper voice from behind him.

A greeting back to the game.

None came.

Could someone have taken her? He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. It was impossible to steal someone else companion robot. A decision made when players started spending real world currency to buy equipment.

No one would want to lose all that money on a careless log out, and the company didn’t want to deal with the hassle of it all. Thus, all robots were bound to their owners.

The only reason Jester suspected Masky could have gotten hold of Whiskers was that he didn’t own the robopet. An NPC did, and they were free game. A fact he might have to change in the future. Not that this line of thought got him any closer to figuring out where his android was.

“Happy Hour?” he called out as he finished logging into the game proper.

The suit of armor raised its right hand and tapped at the side of the helmet. It was a great helm style. A full face covering with no visor to speak off. However, as he got closer, he could see two red lights peering from it.

“Hail Captain.” Happy Hour’s voice sounded strange. Distorted by the headpiece. Plus, there was a force to it. One that she didn’t normally have.

Even the way she stood was different. Straight back, commanding, with her feet set to move at a moment’s notice. Not a soldier’s rest, a combat stance.

“Hey Happy Hour, what’s with the get-up?”

Mr Markal answered before Happy Hour got the chance. The old man shifted forward on his heels, a hand reaching out to rest on the breastplate.

“She’s modelling my work.” His words sounded wistful. “Or your work, I suppose. Though I do hope you’ll listen to my advice on the design?”

“Sure.” Jester moved forward to stand beside the NPC. Happy Hour didn’t so much as twitch. “I’m always glad to have your advice.”

Mr Markal smiled at that. His missing teeth making him somehow seem more sincere in his joy. A young child beaming at the idea of getting a present.

“That’s good to hear, my boy. You were always good to me. Much too good for this broken down part of the city.” He coughed before continuing. “When I was young, I used to read books about noble knights. Great kingdoms. Warriors of light. All the things my parents could show to me to make me understand The Outskirts weren’t all there was.”

Jester raised an eyebrow, curious. It was rare for an NPC to be given any kind of backstory. For The Developers to grant Markal one, it must have made him more important than he’d realized.

“And now you have finally bought me a canvas to make that dream a reality. Will you help me?”

Before the box could appear, Jester was nodding. There was still time before the next match. He was more than happy to help the old NPC.

“Of course, whatever you need.”

He selected yes, watching the box vanish before he turned to Mr. Markal. The NPCs hair was still sticking up, but his posture was better. There was also a gleam in those eyes, one he’d never seen before.

“You’ve made an old man happy, my boy.”

“Where do we begin?” Was all Jester asked in response.

Mr. Markal laughed and pointed towards Happy Hour. She reacted to the movement, snapping off a salute and stamping one of her feet. Before the clanking and jangling vanished from the air, the NPC was speaking once more.

“Why, my boy, where else? With the designs.”

It wasn’t the most ambitious project from the looks of things. The armor belonged to an ocean knight. Mr. Markal rambled on about a tale of a man who bested a siren. In return, the watery citizens blessed his armor, so he could visit them whenever he wished.

However, once he studied the details, he could see the issues. The various shades of blue needed to be blended just so to create the effect of deep water. That wasn’t speaking of the way the sea dragon wrapped around the entire thing. From the head painted on the helmet to the tail that ended on one foot.

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Any time Happy Hour moved, it would appear as though the dragon was moving. At least, according to Mr. Markal, and the artist who really created the piece.

Jester nodded along to the explanation, grabbing paints and tools as instructed. Not once did Happy Hour move. Her stillness unnerved him. Even when she was playing head maid, there was a twitch or a nod.

Knight Happy Hour looked more like a statue. He hoped the paint and the item change would stop that. Jester didn’t like her being so still. She should be moving. To speak and laugh. That was clear from the moment they’d first met.

“Materials gathered.”

Mr. Markal nodded, not looking up from where he slowly drew an outline of the sea dragon. Jester wasn’t sure he agreed, but the NPC insisted they do that section first.

It would be purple, with a green flowing mane that would appear to be made of seaweed. They would coat each of the scales with a material to make them shine. An effect he was interested in seeing.

The mane would be short. Long enough to float around the head, but not so much as it left the helmet. Strands of it would go ever which way. A nod to the idea it was underwater.

Most of the placements seemed random except for one. The strand that went over the slit in the eyes.

He knew with the red of Happy Hour’s eyes, it would create an effective display. Anyone who saw it would see them standing out against the blue and green. They would know what it meant, too. A warning sign. Danger. Stay away.

Here be monsters in the reeds.

Excitement bubbled inside of him at the thought of it. All her previous outfits were uniforms. Things to show her off her status as a worker.

This one was to keep her hidden.

Protected.

To let her stand against those who would try to hurt her.

His thoughts turned to the way people insulted her while they walked. Would they dare to do so when dressed like this?

He still couldn’t believe that Mr. Markal was going to let him keep it. That was fantastic. Not that the item was rare or probably worth much. Maybe if Androids were more common, it might have been.

As it was, the clever part was the bond it created between the recipient and Mr. Markal. A connection The Developers were sure to exploit. More quests, perhaps? Or maybe they were banking on him spending more at this store.

If it was the latter, they were out of luck. Without his regular trips into the Junkyard, he didn’t have enough to spend. A fact, he reminded himself once more; he needed to fix before his date.

That would come later. For now, there was a project to work on. One that he intended to perform at his best.

After longer than Jester would have liked, Mr. Markal stood up. The sea dragon outline was now complete. It wrapped the armor, ready to be painted in to its new home.

“Shall we start?” Jester asked, his foot bouncing impatiently.

“We shall,” Mr. Markal waved towards the table with the paints. “Grab the Navy Blue first. I want to start with the dark sections. Then get started on the mane. You should do the monster.”

“Are you sure?” Jester looked at the old NPC. “Isn’t that the bit that will show up the most?”

“It is. That’s why I want you to do it. Make your mark, my boy. Now let’s get started.”

***

The picture was slow to come together.

Hours passed, in which Happy Hour never moved as they walked. Neither Jester nor Mr. Markal said much more than to ask for a paint pot or a brush. Colors blended together as they moved around each other.

Jester spent most of his time working on the helmet. If this was real, he knew his feet would ache by the time it was done. However, in this virtual environment, such things wouldn’t become an issue.

A fact he was incredibly grateful for. This was hard enough as it was.

Light greens and dark greens came together to form depth on each strand. His utmost attention was required to make sure they stayed individual pieces. Any slip of his hand and they would become intertwined. Which would ruin the effect.

He couldn’t help but stare at Happy Hour’s eyes as he worked on the section around the front of the visor. They barely twitched as she watched him. If she was a player, he’d wonder what was going through her head.

As an NPC? It was her programming that caught his attention.

Why did DollmakerMC decide to create such a unique android? One that needed to be dressed up to function.

Was it because he knew the same thing that Debrah did? That the show was as important as the victory? They were friends, so he wouldn’t disregard the idea.

Jester moved around the back of the helmet to try to keep working on the opposite side to Mr. Markal. The old NPC was showing speed he’d never seen before. Hands that almost blurred. It was impressive.

“Ocean,” Mr Markal barked out.

“Here,” Jester scooped the pot off the table and tossed it across.

“We’re almost done, boy, keep it up.”

“Yes, sir!” He would have saluted if he weren’t carefully filling in one of the dragon’s scales.

Mr. Markal kept going until it was finally done. Jester finished after him, filling in the last section on the armored shoe. Together, they stepped back and stood side by side to admire the project. A tear welled in his eye. It was beautiful.

An ocean in the form of a person stood before them. One so deep as to be black in certain sections. All around it the sea dragon coiled, the shimmer of the scales catching the fading light that came in to the small store.

“Now there is only one part left.”

“Mr Markal?” Jester turned to the NPC. “Did I miss something?”

“Oh no, you did a fantastic job, my boy. Fantastic. This was something I would only add to something of this quality.”

He walked to a nearby counter, aged body going slow. As he arrived, he rooted around in a draw. Curses falling from his lips as he didn’t immediately find what he was looking for. Jester moved forward to lend aid when Mr. Markal held up a hand.

“Stay there. I’ll have it in a minute.”

Instead of responding, he threw a glance at Happy Hour and almost jumped in, surprised. She wasn’t standing in the same stance as before. However, he didn’t hear her move. Unlike her previous rigid battle stance, she seemed more relaxed. More poised to bend with how the world would take her.

He could see it, even if he could find the words. Happy Hour’s posture now had a flow to it. One that could shift in almost any direction. With her new stance, the dragon appeared different as well. Less coiled and more leisurely floating.

He couldn’t wait to see what it would look like when it moved.

“Found it!” came the cry from behind him.

Jester turned to see Mr. Markal carrying a small wooden box. Not much larger than the size of his fist. When he saw that they’d noticed him, he smiled his gap tooth grin.

“I’ve been meaning to use this bit of decoration for a while. Never thought I’d have the chance.”

He shuffled back over to where Happy Hour stood and gestured for her to crouch down. She did so, though now that Jester was trying, he could hear the movement. The sound of a burbling brook, so quiet to fade into the background.

From the box, Mr. Markal took out a small Jem. A turquoise crystal cut into a thin oval shape. He placed it into the eye of the dragon, over the blue circle he’d gotten Jester to paint in. It set with a click.

For a moment, nothing. Then it sparkled, and he could hear waves. A glow appeared over the entire armor sent. It was there for a second. Then it was gone. A notification popped up in his vision.

“A water attack, huh?” Jester said to himself as he read the description.

It wasn’t often one saw armor pieces with offensive capabilities. This, plus the broach if she could wear both, would mean it would work on almost any target. It was an impressive piece of equipment.

Not to mention the pride he felt at having worked on it himself.

“Would you care to move around in it, Miss Happy Hour?” Mr Markal motioned around his store. “To make sure it fits.”

She sent a salute his way and then stepped forward.

Her motion was strong, a wave coming to crash to the shore. As her foot hit the ground, she spun on her heel with ease. The armor seeming to weight her down not at all. The kick was perfect, and she swept up into a punch.

It took him a moment to see it, but when he did, he clapped his hands. This was another dance. One of violence and strength. She was a stream running down from the top of a mountain, every step flowing into the next.

He didn’t even see her armored form at times.

It seemed to vanish, the sea dragon taking his full awareness. Those purple scales shone as they crashed into invisible opponents. A monster come to life.

One of those eyes glinted at each successful attack.

When she finished, he felt a grin on his face. Happy Hour turned to him with a quick salute. The effect making the sea dragon appear to coil in on itself. It was odd to see such a sight on such heavy armor.

Not that he cared.

He wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Beside him, Mr. Markal openly wept. The old NPC clasping a hand to his mouth.

“It’s done.” Jester could hear him whisper those words. Though from the NPC’s eye. It was clear he was looking into the distance. “I finally completed it.”

“That you did, sir.”

Mr. Markal turned to him then and took one of his hands in both of his.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Tears continued to fall across the wrinkles on his face. “What can I do to help you, my boy?”

“I don’t think I have anything today. Though at some point, if you’re interested. I’d love to buy this place from you. Learn and continue to do what you do.” Jester smiled at the man. “If you’re willing to have me.”

“Of course, any time you want to practice your skills, you can. My tools and store are open to you. Any time, my boy. Any time.”

“Captain? Where to now?” Happy Hour still sounded confident and forceful.

He wanted to say to the coliseum. Jester wanted to see her fight. Not that there was one on. He could call someone. Arrange something.

However, he knew that the showing of this outfit needed to be special. To be something that showed her off.

To his delight, they’d already scheduled such an event.

“First, let’s get you back into your normal get up.” He said. “I want to save that one for a special occasion. You don’t mind, do you?”

He directed the question at Mr. Markal, who shook his head.

“Then we have something we need to do for the rest of the week.”

“And what’s that Captain?”

“We have to hunt for something to sell. I have a date to pay for, after all.”

She saluted and moved to her previous outfit that hung on a hook near the back of the room. He turned to Mr. Markal as he did.

“Have you heard of the virus?”

“Oh yes, my boy. Nasty business.”

“Has it infected everything?” Jester was curious. He’d seen a variety of different things being carried, and wanted to know what he should dig for.

“I’m not sure, I’m afraid. Not my area. You can get other players like yourself to check for you, though.”

“Thanks anyway, Mr. Markal.”

That would be his upcoming time, then. To make as much money as he could before his date. Plus, collecting some of the virus ridden items could be interesting. Perhaps Kylee could figure them out. Unlike JamesG, she wasn’t being inundated with customers.

A benefit to being tucked away from the main shopping areas.

“Jester, are we ready to leave?”

Her voice was back to normal as she moved back into view. With one hand, she brushed at her skirts. The stars following her movements.

“I am. Come on, The Junkyard is calling.”

 

 

 

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