I plunged through the darkness, my heart catching in my throat.

  Nothing awakens you from a hypnotic stupor like hurtling towards your death.

  I flailed my arms and thrashed my legs, suddenly acutely aware that I wasn’t actually falling at all, but rather—dangling.

  Count Basil’s vines stretched up into the darkness, having latched onto something above. We swung, suspended in the air like a child’s mobile.

  “Good job, buddy,” I said feeling like a complete heel.

  I could hear him shaking a leaf at me. I deserved that.

  ME: ERNI, I can’t see anything.

  ERNI: That is a symptom of the bowl babe’s spell. It should subside, now that the trance is broken.

  I heard the maniacal cackle of the bowl babe retreating in the distance. She had abandoned her singing, having nearly accomplished her task. I had fallen for it, quite literally, just like a sucker.

  Something started to pull us up.

  “Hello?” I spoke up to the darkness.

  There was no reply. Instead, I heard a series of heavy breaths. More like, grunts. Count Basil and I arced upward as if being hoisted by a crane. Something in the shadows swung us up and over the ledge, setting us back down on firm ground.

  Slowly, my vision returned. At first, all I could see was a large and blurry form. But soon, it came into focus. I was sitting across from a huge warrior. He wasn’t human. The four arms kind of gave that away. As did the purple fur. He stared at me with glowing green eyes, fang-like teeth protruding from his bottom lip. He grunted a few more times.

  “Uh, hi,” I waved. “Thanks for saving me.”

  Count Basil smacked me in the face shield.

  “Okay! Okay! I messed up, buddy. I’m sorry.”

  I turned back to the warrior and corrected myself, “I meant to say… thank you for saving US.”

  The warrior finally opened his mouth to speak, and what came out was a series of guttural barks and growls. After a few seconds, ERNI’s auto-translation kicked in so that I could hear him in English.

  “…do not thank me. Thank the ancestors. It was they who taught us to spare fools.”

  “Whoa. Okay. Nice introduction. We can start again. I’m Sam. You may know me as SackUpSam on the Wormhole. The human warrior?”

  “I know who you are.”

  “Okay, good. That makes one of us. What’s your name?”

  He stared at me, his hand reaching towards his waist. I tensed, wondering if he was going for a weapon.

  His eyes studied me, with a look of distrust. He continued to grunt, and that’s when I realized this was labored breathing. He wasn’t reaching for a weapon at all. He was clutching a gash, green blood seeping between his fingers.

  “You’re hurt.”

  He growled and covered the wound, defiant at the insinuation that he was injured.

  “Here, let me take a look.”

  I moved closer and he let out a hellish roar that knocked me flat on my ass. The entire chamber rattled from the echo. Count Basil sprung us back off the ground in an aggressive fighting stance.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Everybody take it easy!”

  I spread out my arms, playing peacekeeper between the two, before addressing the warrior again.

  “You’re obviously hurt. You helped us. Now, let me help you.”

  Something in his expression changed. His brow softened. It was a look of reluctant surrender, like he knew I might be his only hope. He considered it for one more moment, then huffed. He lowered his hand, allowing me to see the wound.

  It was bad. A chunk of his armor was missing, revealing, an eight-inch laceration in his abdomen. The blood was leaking fast. He gnashed his teeth, leaning back, staring up at the ceiling in despair.

  “Look, dude, I don’t know who you are. All I know is that you saved my life. That looks really bad, man. I think I can help you, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

  Count Basil tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and looked at his leaves, which were waving, “Don’t do it!”

  “Dude, it’s the right thing to do.”

  Frustrated, he waved me off.

  ME: ERNI, how do I become his teammate?

  ERNI: I would strongly advise against that. You do not know anything about this warrior or his true intent. Did you not learn anything from your recent encounter with the bowl babe?

  ME: Look, yeah, okay… I messed up on that… but not this time. This guy helped us out. The least we can do is return the favor. Now, how do I become his teammate?

  ERNI: I can initiate a digital handshake with his AI. But once again, I must protest—

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  ME: Do it!

  ERNI: As you wish.

  Initiating Digital Handshake.

  The wounded warrior across from me must have received a notification from his gauntlet. He raised his left arm—well, one of the two of them—and checked the screen. After he read it, he looked up at me, surprised and skeptical.

  I flashed open palms—a gesture that was meant to signal a non-threatening nature. I had learned it as part of my Rat E. Cheddar incident de-escalation training.

  “Hey, I’m only trying to help.”

  The warrior grit his teeth again, then, tapped his gauntlet.

  Digital Handshake Complete.

  You are now in a team party with—

  Gnarltharr. Vylgarianth Warrior. Level 14.

  “Okay, Vylgarianths… yeah… yeah… I drank one of your smoothies once. Really helped me out. Well, look, Gnarltharr, is it? I made you my teammate so we can use this.”

  I called up the Critical Assist Play from my playbook.

  Critical Assist Play.

  Transfer 50% Health to Ailing Teammate.

  “I don’t know how this is going to go. But just hold tight, okay?”

  Running: Critical Assist Play.

  My health gauge immediately started to drain.

  “Ah!” I cried out as I felt a surging pain in my abdomen. I clutched the same area on my body that Gnarltharr was clutching on his.

  Now that I was paired with him as a teammate, I could also see Gnarltharr’s health gauge. His grew from critical red to half green as mine dropped by half. I grit my teeth, doubled over in excruciating pain.

  What the hell had done this to him? I felt like somebody was poking around my intestines with a screwdriver.

  Gnarltharr’s eyes were wide open, blinking, registering immediate relief. I was happy for him, but I was struggling with the shared agony. For a brief moment, my heartbeat drummed to a roar. The edges of my HUD flashed red. This soon eased as my fast-healing abilities took over. Slowly, my health gauge started to rise.

  Gnarltharr patted his midsection, amazed that the wound was closing up on its own. He looked up at me, eyes glistening. He intertwined the three fingers on each of his hands in a gesture that I could only surmise meant “thank you.” This was soon confirmed when he said, “Thank you.”

  “No problem, bro. You had my back, so it was only right I had yours. You want to tell me how you got hurt?”

  Again, defiance crept across his face, as if he were ashamed to tell the story. Finally, he relented.

  “Another warrior did this to me.”

  “Another warrior? But that’s forbidden.”

  “Slayer Bowl is all about forbidden.”

  He had a point. I had my own history of close shaves with rogue warriors.

  “What warrior?”

  “You would not believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “Dom Blady.”

  ----

  We were walking together now, through a series of the crystal mine tunnels, heading towards the orb on our shared map. I studied Gnarltharr’s thick, purple fur.

  “Aren’t you like, really hot in all that fur?”

  He flashed a curious look.

  “No. A Vylgarianth’s body adapts to all manner of environments—from extreme cold to blazing heat.”

  “That’s handy. So, what brings you to Slayer Bowl?”

  “I have been a warrior for three cycles. Slayer Bowl destroyed my world when I was off-planet, on a mining assignment.”

  As he spoke, I realized just how much we shared in common.

  “The planet purge was swift, but not complete. My sister and her youngling survived. That is… until Dom Blady found them.”

  His fangs clenched shut, unable to speak more on it. He didn’t have to. I understood.

  “I’m sorry that happened. Blady also took people very special to me.”

  He grunted.

  “My only purpose for being in Slayer Bowl was to get near Dom Blady and kill him. I studied the fighting arts… the ancient warrior techniques of my kind. I waited until I thought I was ready. And then, I entered Slayer Bowl for the first time, three cycles ago. I was not nearly as ready as I thought. Both times, I was forced to DNF, having suffered grave injuries. I was not going to DNF again. This was my time to die a warrior’s death.”

  “Ah, well, sorry I kind of messed that up for you. But a warrior’s death won’t get your revenge on Blady.”

  He grunted again. I soon realized that grunting was an integral part of his communication style. Depending on the tone and duration, he could convey a broad variety of sentiments. This particular grunt seemed to mean “you’ve got a point.”

  “Look, I’m going after Blady as well. He took someone I care about. Zapped her to his starship. The only way I’m going to get her back is to face him in the final.”

  Gnarltharr looked at me with quiet contemplation. For such a fearsome appearance, he was far more pensive than I originally thought.

  “I shall help you, Sack of Sam.”

  “Uh, that’s Sack Up Sam.”

  “Yes. SamSack. We shall exact our revenge together.”

  He reached out one of his four hands. I reached out mine. I expected us to shake or fist bump or dap one another up. Instead, he inserted his fingers in between mine.

  “Ohhhh, okayyyy… we’re doing this,” I reacted.

  “It is the Vylgarianth way. AS ONE!!!” He yelled.

  “As one.” I repeated, feeling completely awkward, our fingers intertwined.

  As we walked along, I could tell that Count Basil wasn’t feeling our new teammate. The three of us were now displayed in a team party in my HUD, as indicated by icons representing each of us. There was my face, Gnarltharr’s face, and Count Basil, represented by a leaf.

  The three icons were arranged in a triangle formation, and the team camaraderie status was represented by the colors of the triangle’s sides. The line from Count Basil to myself and from me to Gnarltharr were both green. But the line from Count Basil to Gnarltharr was red.

  I watched as Count Basil peaked out of the quest sack, reached out a leaf and touched Gnarltharr’s fur. He immediately recoiled and wiped his leaf off as if he had touched something filthy.

  “Count Basil! Your manners! Gnarltharr is our friend.”

  Count Basil folded his leaves and shook them as if he was trying to make a “hmph” sound.

  “Really, dude, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

  “Interesting herb you have there,” Gnarltharr remarked as he plucked one of Count Basil’s leaves and chewed it.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, dude! You can’t eat Count Basil’s leaves! He’s our teammate!”

  “That plant inside of your bag is our teammate?”

  “Yes. He’s saved my life several times.”

  “So, what you are saying is… you get yourself into constant danger… and your teammates bail you out?”

  “Well… when you put it like that… I mean, okay… it has happened on occasion… but not on purpose.”

  “You are a strange creature, SackySam.”

  “Close enough. Hey, look at your wound!”

  We both looked and saw that the gash on his stomach had completely healed, and was now commemorated by a thick scar.

  Count Basil tapped me on the shoulder, still pissed about having his leaf plucked. He shook a leafy fist in Gnarltharr’s direction.

  “I’m really going to need the two of you to work this out.”

  “I am sorry, plant… but your leaf was delicious.”

  Count Basil pointed at him and gestured at me like, “See?! See?!”

  I palmed my face and debated if my former co-workers at Rat E. Cheddar’s had been easier to deal with.

  ERNI: Interesting.

  ME: What’s that?

  ERNI: I just had the most bizarre interaction with Gnarltharr’s AI. She is a next-gen model with a Cosmo QuantumCore Zyrilliumite 2.8 Pentahertz. Let’s just say—there is a marked difference in our communication styles.

  ME: Oh yeah? Did you get her digits?

  ERNI: Very funny. And, yes, I do understand that reference. And, no—I do not believe she appreciated my pop culture references.

  ME: Aw, ERNI, we talked about that. You gotta go easy on that stuff, bro. Girls like it when you’re a smooth talker.

  Ah. Who was I kidding?

  I hadn’t been a smooth talker at any point in my life. But ERNI didn’t know that, and I was in the middle of establishing a brand-new identity. This was Sam Wynbrook 2.0. SackUpSam. Sam the Warrior. No longer would I be relegated to the outskirts of coolness.

  I’d be the orbital foci.

  Okay, that didn’t sound cool at all.