“So you’re saying I’m stuck with you now?” Joanna asked as she nursed a gin and tonic at Watering Hole’s bar. She’d walked into an unassuming café in the middle of the city and found herself inside the familiar drinking establishment. She’d assumed it was gone, considering she’d burned it down.

  “That’s correct miss, yes,” the fancy dinosaur with the English accent confirmed. His eyes twinkled as he gazed at his new partner with tamed lust.

  “Ok, but I burnt this place to the ground, how is it up and running again?”

  “The producers have their ways,” he replied in his silky smooth, baritone voice, “it’s quite a simple matter really to anchor a personal portal to a new pocket dimension. They keep backups for this exact scenario. You’re not the first contestant to burn down a bar Miss Joanna. Now that you’ve completed the task I gave you, we’re linked you and I. And so is this place.”

  She looked hard at the dinosaur bartender. His visage was still offsetting to her. A triceratops’ head on the body of human man, wearing a suit and fedora to match. It was weird. How could dinosaurs be aliens? Did this mean that Earth was originally inhabited by another sentient species, or was it just a coincidence?

  As these thoughts swirled through Joanna’s head, he moved gracefully about the bar polishing a glass delicately before replacing it on a shelf behind the bar and topping off her drink. He really was quite the attentive bar tender. If this wasn’t the apocalypse she’d have given him a generous tip.

  “So, if no one else can enter this place then how did I get in the first time?” Joanna eventually asked, settling on an appropriate question running her fingers playfully over the rim of her glass. “I distinctly remember a family was sleeping in here. The stench of their deaths still clings to my top. Why weren’t you their manager?”

  She raised an eyebrow and looked up to see the dinosaur’s expression – not that prehistoric reptilian creatures had overly recognisable facial movements.

  “They didn’t complete my task. Besides, I’d much rather be your manager.” He licked his lips with a quick flick of his tongue and the edges of his scaley mouth turned upwards slightly, “sadly, my previous clients were terribly dull. You, however, well… I think our partnership could really be something.”

  ***

  “Are you sure about this? It seems awfully dangerous when we’re so close.”

  Barnabus scowled at the communicator, trying hard to keep the ire out of his voice.

  “I’m sure,” he said quietly. “I know she’s a wildcard but that’s exactly what we need. We’ve been bound by this blasted contract for too far long. This is our season; I can feel it.”

  “I know, I know,” the voice replied, quivering slightly, “I feel the same way, you know I do. My contestant is pretty promising as well, you’re not the only one taking risks to keep them alive. I’m just not sure it’s wise to tempt fate like this when we’re so close. Minor infringements are one thing, but what you’re talking about could get both our heads put on the chopping block. Shouldn’t we be playing it safe? We’re in the end game now, it’s not the time for gambling.”

  Barnabus wiped his forehead with his cleaning rag, displacing his fedora slightly. His face contorted in a moment of rage and frustration but he was old enough to know how to keep his emotions in check, and he did.

  “Trust me,” he replied in a measured tone. “This is the right move, Joanna is exquisite. With the money we’ll earn off her we’ll be free by the end of the season, mark my words. Besides, as you just said, your contestant is no slouch either. If everything goes to plan we’ll make enough to buy out our contracts and book safe passage to the home world.”

  There was silence on the line and Barnabus wiped his forehead once again. He hated how sweaty his face got when he was excited.

  “Fine,” the voice said and the line crackled as it disconnected.

  Placing the communicator down quietly, Barnabus leaned on the counter with both hands and sighed. His shoulders shook as he suppressed a delighted laugh.

  This would be his season, he could feel it.

  With the help of the girl, he’d finally be free.

  ***

  6 days remaining.

  The next day John awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in years. Usually he woke up feeling groggy regardless of how much he’d slept. He had never been much of a morning person.

  However, for the first time in years he felt wide awake and ready to tackle the day’s challenges. Though, if the last few days were anything to go by he was certain that feeling wouldn’t last for long.

  Waking his snoring companion from his slumber, he and Truffle entered the diner’s main room and he placed the pig on a bar stool.

  Something smelled delightful, a smoky scent mixed with the unmistakable aroma of freshly cooked bacon. John wondered if that choice of meal was a little insensitive to his companion, but Truffle didn’t say anything. So, when Buck slid him a plate across the silky countertop surface, he dug in.

  “What are your plans for today?” The dinosaur asked casually as he poured him a glass of fresh orange juice and tossed Truffle a raw joint of mystery meat. “You’ve got time until the next round, but you still need to complete your deck.”

  “I already have a line on two cards,” John said slyly through a grim smile, “but I’d like to collect one more before I pursue it. Any suggestions?”

  He wanted desperately to track down the blonde arsonist now that he knew he could steal her cards. He’d be doing the world, or what was left of it, a favour by killing her… That was probably what Chairman Tanlan had meant when he’d said that killing other contestants was advised. He had to be referring to this ability to take their cards.

  John wondered if they had to be dead for that to work. He could stick his hand into his own solar plexus, though he didn’t dare remove his own card. An overwhelmingly foreboding feeling had rushed through him when he’d touched it. It stood to reason that he’d be able to yank someone else’s card from them whilst they were still alive, though perhaps that feeling was a death warning. He wouldn’t know unless he tried. It would be an easy way to kill someone if that was the case, and a bit of cheat.

  “Oh, how mysterious,” Buck replied dryly after a moment, “you know, now that I’m your guy, you can tell me your plans if you want to. It’s not like I can pass it on to other contestants since you two are the only ones I’ll get to see this season.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Truffle said with a mouth full, “he’s always been like this. He used to complain endlessly about me to the mistress, but he always comes around eventually.”

  John shook his head, trying to ignore his companion as he continued eating his fill. He had 100 shiny new shards to spend and his jeans and shirt were dirty, ragged and disgusting.

  However, he’d decided it was best to save as much as possible. He wanted a failsafe just in case his plans didn’t work out. Saving up for a kiosk card wasn’t going to be easy.

  Even as he reaffirmed his commitment to financial sensibility, the glow of the kiosk called to him and he had to look away before he gave into temptation.

  “Well, I guess I can wait,” Buck said, refilling John’s glass, “just promise me you’ll let me in on this new plan of yours before you put it into action. I can be quite helpful you know; I’ve been around.”

  “No,” John said sternly between bites.

  “You’re insufferable, you know that?” Buck yelled, “here I am trying my best to help you stay alive and all I get is a single syllable response? I swear it’s like talking to a brick wall. You humans have no idea how to articulate a socially engaging conversation.”

  Since when did he get so chummy? John thought, but he didn’t dignify the dinosaur with an answer. He had no interest in being friends with a slimeball who had already betrayed his trust once. Especially after his earlier revelation about the potentially nefarious intentions of other game guides. There was no doubt in John’s mind that Joanna’s guide had helped to orchestrate her arson murder. Though he had no idea why.

  “Tell me more about healing,” John said abruptly.

  “I already did.”

  “No, you told me there are three ways to heal: cards, beds, and traditional medicine. Last night though, you said that we could regenerate more rapidly than normal humans. I want to know how that works, what will heal, how tough are we. Tell me everything.”

  Buck sighed, but John was sure he saw a faint smile on his green lips. “Alright, I can’t deny that you’re starting to ask the right kinds of questions. So, as part of the game’s design you can regenerate much faster than a normal person, even without using the beds. Broken bones, stab wounds and other relatively superficial injuries will heal pretty fast. However, you can’t grow back limbs, and regeneration won’t start if the foreign object which caused the wound is still inside you. So if you get stabbed, you need to remove the knife before it will begin to heal.

  “You’re also much hardier than your frail human bodies usually would be. The council doesn’t want any boring deaths, they’re a money sink and this show is expensive to run. They need to ensure they’ll recoup their investment and the best way to do that is to maximise the entertainment value for the viewers, which means keeping boring deaths to a minimum. Think of it like a health bar in a video game, only you can’t see it.”

  “Alright, what about organs? If I do get stabbed and remove the knife but it’s pierced say… a kidney. Will that kill me?”

  “Probably not, most internal injuries will heal if they don’t kill you outright. Of course, you’ll become significantly more robust as you level up, but I’ll explain that another time. You can’t do it in this round anyway.”

  John nodded and downed the rest of his juice. Buck was a font of information, but it seemed he’d have to ask the right questions to get a decent answer out of him. That was going to be a royal pain in the butt.

  Glancing at the countdown on his interface, he became acutely aware that time was running short, he needed to get his hands on a new card today. That would leave him time to track down Joanna and complete his set. With only six days remaining, he wanted to get a move on. He couldn’t risk leaving it to chance and sitting around talking shop with the dinosaur, while useful, wasn’t as productive as actively searching for cards.

  “I want to get a new card today,” John said suddenly, sitting up and pushing his empty plate across the counter. “Tell me how.”

  The dinosaur eyed John with curiosity and the faint flicker of a smile – or perhaps a grimace – appeared on his scaley face for a moment. He sighed, rubbing his temple with his clawed fingers and then, throwing his drying rag over one shoulder, he answered.

  “Perky today aren’t you? I do know of something, the most surefire way I can think of, but I wouldn’t advise it. You’ll probably die.”

  Truffle’s ears twitched as he and John both looked expectantly at Buck, willing him to continue.

  “There’s a tournament happening in a few hours at the big stadium in town, the prize is a card,” he relented, his eyes narrowing, “but I really don’t think you should go. It’s not really meant for contestants and those who do enter usually die in the first round.”

  “Sounds perfect,” John said, half standing.

  “Wait!” The dinosaur interrupted, “it’s really dangerous and I don’t think you stand a chance of winning. I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.” He thumped himself in the forehead with his palm, “it’s not meant for contestants, not really.”

  “But we can enter it?” John asked, but it was rhetorical, his mind was already made up. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but if there’s one thing I’m good at its backing myself.”

  “Will you just slow down and listen to me!” He said, raising his voice in anger for the first time since they’d met. “It’s not meant for contestants; you have to win to get a card. It’s way harder than just looking for more boss monsters.”

  John stopped and sat back down, looking up expectantly at his guide, the smile hadn’t faded from his lips.

  “This tournament, its PvP matches and there will be some contestants, I’ve no doubt, but most of the competitors are execs. They have protections in place.”

  “Execs?” John replied, furrowing his brow, “but I thought this battle royale was a human only deal?”

  “And pigs, don’t forget about the pigs,” Truffle said quickly.

  “And pigs,” John added.

  “It is,” Buck answered with another sigh, “only contestants can win the game, but they’re not the only ones in the game. Every season execs pay an extortionate amount of money to create an avatar that’s added into the show. Think of it like an VRMMORPG, they can feel things and do things and let their desires and debaucherous nature run wild, all without the consequences. If their avatar dies then it’s nothing to them, they wake up in their pods and go back to running their companies and attending board meetings. So, in the PvP it’s no big deal if they die, but if you die it’s permanent. What did you think I meant when I said it’s not really for contestants?”

  “Big monsters?” Truffle said flippantly.

  “And let me guess,” John replied dryly, “these execs have cheat codes and special powers so I have no chance of beating them.”

  “Actually no, the playing field is pretty levelled, at least in the first round of Battle Royal. They get more OP as the game progresses and you get more powerful.” Buck said, running his rag through his clawed fingers nervously, “that’s why they’re having this tournament now, it’s a chance for the execs to win cards before they have to pay even more money to get some in the later rounds. But they have to give you a fighting chance, it’s too early on to nerf you. Though it might feel like they’re trying to.”

  “Then why don’t you think I have a chance? I already have a card and combat experience.”

  “Not as much as you think you have, some of these guys have been playing for a long time. They know the rules, understand how the showrunners work, and they have game character reflexes as part of their avatar purchase. You’re good John Doe, but you’re just a normal human. These guys are using avatars. Not to mention that they have connections. It’s likely that some of these guys will enter the tournament with their colleagues and depending on how it’s run this season, they might be able to gang up on you.”

  Feeling a heat rising in the back of his neck and spreading across his cheeks, John reached behind the bar and grabbed the bottle of whisky he’d started on the previous night. Tipping it back and gasping as the smoky liquid burned his throat, he realised it was scotch, and a good one at that. He’d been too distracted by fatigue and the recap show to truly appreciate it the night before.

  “I need a new card,” he eventually said in a low voice, “this entire game has been a risk, but if I’m not willing to fight then I may as well have died with my wif-”

  He caught himself and glance across at Truffle who seemed oblivious.

  That was a close call, he thought before continuing. “If I don’t take risks I’ll have no chance of winning, and like you said, these guys aren’t OP, they’re just experienced alien gamers. I can work with that.”

  “I still don’t think-”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?” John interrupted, holding up his hand to silence Buck.

  “Not really, I don’t know much about it. None of my previous contestants have been stupid enough to enter. I’ve watched it before and the rules and terrains change every time. Like I said, the main thing to watch out for is colleagues working together. Oh, and remember that the avatars aren’t real. Their owners can’t die so they can take risks that you can’t.” His voice shook slightly and his eyes washed over John with ire and frustration. There was something he wasn’t saying. Something he couldn’t say. “Also… in previous seasons the avatars have always taken on the shape of the host species. Since it’s only been a few days you might be able to use that against them, most aliens aren’t bipedal.”

  “Can they feel pain?”

  Buck glanced furtively at the ceiling, then nodded very slightly, his eyes glancing around cautiously.

  “Thanks Buck,” John said with an evil grin as he reached across the counter and patted the scaley half triceratops, half man on the shoulder. “We’d best be off; I’ve got some rich kids to kill.”