Vaudevillain

"You can't keep the spaceship, we kind of need it for the final battle," Isaac said.

"Aw man, we were going to use the mothership as our new base," sighed Riptide.

"Hey, sorry about that. If it were up to me, I'd say keep it. But the way this storyline is coded is that all the spaceships need to be activated before anyone can fight the boss. That can't happen if you guys use this place as your new base."

"Do we at least get something out of it?" Sweet Dream asked.

"Um, I don't know. I could ask some people. Maybe we can gift you something, like a ton of alienite."

Sweet Dream crossed her arms, "We lost our base stealing this thing, and all we get is some materials? Not even some reputation?"

Isaac held his hands up defensively, "Look, I'm just the IT guy. I can't authorize all the other stuff. Though, I do think the reputation bugged out. Or someone didn't link the storyline to the AI correctly. But I can't give you anything until it goes up the line."

"So, you just take our ship, and we get nothing for it?"

Isaac grimaced, "Yeah, I don't like it either."

Riptide sighed, "Dude, that sucks. We should at least get something for it. Right, Zlo?"

Dylan looked up, "Hm? Oh, yeah."

He'd stopped paying attention when Isaac told them about returning the mothership. It was the icing on the cake of bad news. First, John betrayed him, and now this. The whole situation shoved him right back down into the pit of sadness.

"Look, guys, I am sorry. But I need to take this back to where it belongs before a team beats the mini-boss and grabs the key."

Dylan sighed, the noise echoed by his friends. Isaac made a face and scratched the back of his head, "Argh. Alright. Look, I can at least do a few things to help out. You said your base got destroyed, right? I could fix that up."

Riptide and Sweet Dream turned to Dylan. He shook his head, "No thanks."

Maybe it was his mood talking, but the thought of rebuilding the base left a sour taste in his mouth. "I think it would be better if we found another place."

"Okay, how about this? I load you guys up with some in-game cash for finding a pretty big bug. Enough for you to buy an entire building and use it as a base. I can probably swing that argument in the ticket since you did something that wasn't supposed to happen."

"I thought all we needed to do was sit at a place until it asked if we wanted to claim it."

Isaac nodded, "Yeah, that's how it normally works. But in a week or so, Vert plans to make a few changes. The idea is to make an actual economy built around the world. Players will be able to buy land and make their own businesses. It was something we wanted to implement before the game released, but Arthur rushed the announcement."

"Wait," Sweet Dream started, "Are there going to be faction mechanics coming?"

"I can't actually tell you that," Isaac said. But he nodded his head to confirm the woman's question.

"Alright, I'll take the money."

Dylan shrugged, "Sure."

"If the others agree, I'm in dude," said Riptide.

Isaac smiled, "Awesome. Thanks for being so understanding, guys. I'll make sure to add the money to your accounts when the ticket closes."

"Can you do it now?" asked Sweet Dream. "Not that I don't trust you, but I'm assuming this isn't exactly protocol."

Isaac shook his head, "No, it is. We know balancing this game is going to be a sh*tshow, so to help encourage bug fixing, we've offered in-game currency to everyone who found one. We have a whole table based on a few factors, like reputation."

"Dude, why not use money as the reputation system then?" Riptide asked.

Isaac barked a laugh, "If I could tell you that I wouldn't be working tech support. Anyway, let's get your stuff out of here and get this back where it belongs."

The three nodded and gathered all their minions. Isaac paled a bit when a crowd of mice scurried into the control room. Sweet Dream froze into a statue, causing Riptide to poke Dylan.

"Dude, Dream can't deal with mice, remember?"

"Oh, right."

Dylan wearily commanded all his minions to leave the mothership.

"I think I should bring up the use of minions in our next meeting," Isaac said. "That looks like it could get out of hand fast if we don't limit it."

Dylan shrugged, "The mice can't do much. And I've found the other simple minions aren't all that bright. But it does look like other minions can command them, like a necromancer with their zombies."

"I was thinking along the lines of a nanobot swarm, but I get your point."

Once the last mouse left the room, Sweet Dream relaxed. "Please, don't do that again unless you warn me," she said.

"Yeah, sorry," said Dylan. He walked over to the door, "I'm going to head down with the rest. Let me know if you need something."

"Alright, dude," replied Riptide.

Isaac and the others talked for a few more seconds, reaffirming everything they had done to steal the mothership. Dylan made his way down the stairs to the bottom of the mothership.

"Drink, boss?" Cass asked.

Dylan hadn't noticed his minion hadn't gone down with the rest. "What? Why didn't you head down with the others?"

"I'm a butler boss. I can't leave your side, ya know."

"Sure. But why offer a drink."

Cass shrugged, the gesture so lifelike Dylan almost thought it was someone else, "You seemed sad."

Dylan snorted, "Great now a computer program is trying to cheer me up. How did you even notice I was sad?"

"I'm a butler. I'm supposed to know that," Cass replied.

Dylan shook his head, "I'm still amazed at how advanced you are."

"That's because you made me, boss. And you're the greatest genius in the world."

Dylan smiled despite his mood. Cass spoke the words with such conviction, as if his master couldn't be anything but the best. The butler sounded every inch the loyal minion.

It made Dylan realize, Cass was getting better at his role. Early on, the butler had been a helper, but a bumbling buffoon like the Jacques. Now, Cass had an entire personality. And it all revolved around Dr. Zlo.

Dylan was still thinking about Cass when they walked into the tractor beam room. His friends joined him a minute later, moving to stand in the middle with the others. Then, the tractor beam activated and deposited the entire group onto the grass in front of the broken mansion.

"Dude, this kinda sucks," Riptide said.

"At least we're getting something out of it," Sweet Dream replied. "Think of it like selling the mothership instead of using it."

"I think I'm going to get off you guys," Dylan said.

Riptide clapped Dylan on the back, "Alright, dude. But make sure you get on soon. We gotta make that tsunami bomb."

"And send me the footage you recorded for the heist," Sweet Dream added. "I like Surf's idea of a vid channel. Let's me get some practice in."

"Will do," Dylan replied. And with that, he logged out.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Dylan woke up back in his room and lifted the helmet off his head. He sighed, pulling his phone off his novelty superhero nightstand and checking the time. Four in the morning. Three hours until he had to leave.

Now that he sat alone, Dylan's mind wandered to all the times he'd gamed with John. Sweet Dream's earlier question drifted into the forefront of his thoughts.

"Maybe he didn't do it to you, but were there times he did it to others?"

The question sparked a few memories. Times when John had guilted someone into paying for his lunch. Or times when John had pulled Dylan away from the board game club members. Dylan remembered how he'd been interested initially, but John kept nitpicking all the games, and it turned Dylan away from playing. He'd spent his years in high school only hanging with John.

Which hadn't been a bad thing, the two of them were the only ones interested in comic books. And Dylan was a more introverted person. He didn't need a ton of social interaction. But now Dylan saw John's friendship in a worse light.

"Fucking hell, John," Dylan breathed. Only now did he notice how controlling his friend had been back then. And then the two had separated, Dylan going to a college in the city while John coasted along at a community school to get all his credits out of the way.

They'd kept in touch, hanging out when Dylan came back for the summer. And when they had free time, the two would join others on Netchat and game. Which often involved a rotating cast of people, and very few stuck around to play after a month or so. Dylan had thought that normal then. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Malaise filled Dylan's head, sinking him farther into the pit of sadness. All those years, he thought he knew John. He thought he knew the friend who got slightly too serious when it came to gaming. It seems it wasn't a competitive drive that pushed John forward; he just wanted to be the one in control.

That meant Dylan had to decide on what to do. Grunting, he rolled out of bed and turned on his computer. Opening Netchat, he composed a message for John.

Superfan39526:

Hey. So I don't think we can play together for a while, at least if you're not going to admit you stole my stuff. Maybe you had your reasons, but you didn't tell me about them. I had thought we were better friends than that. If you ever do get around to saying sorry, maybe we can try and do a couple of games or something. Maybe SBA2, or some puzzle game. But no WOS until we fix this up.

Dylan sat at the computer, reading and rereading the message. He had trouble hitting send, all the years playing with John moved to the forefront of his mind. He didn't want to end things like this, but he also knew it was up to John to mend the relationship. Steeling his resolve, Dylan pressed enter.

_____________________________________________________________________________

John logged out of the game after he saw Dylan leave the mothership, and it flew off into the sky. He didn't know why his friend had left the ship, but he didn't want to stick around and maybe get noticed. He pulled the helmet off his head and dropped it onto the bed. The clock beside him read four AM.

John sighed. Everything was so fucked up. Dylan knew he stole the factories.

But it wasn't that big a deal. Dylan would forgive him eventually, and the two could play together like before. Besides, John had been right about the base. There hadn't been nearly enough defenses around the area.

His Netchat pinged on his phone. It was a message from Dylan. Most likely forgiving him and asking him to play. But he frowned as he read through the message.

John didn't understand; he had been right! The base had been destroyed because Dylan hadn't prepared enough. And John always used Dylan's stuff in earlier games. What made this one so different?

The more he read, the angrier he became. John was only trying to look out for Dylan. Why couldn't he see that?

Instead, Dylan blamed him, said he needed to say sorry. In his growing anger, John's mind clouded, bringing all his worst traits to bear. All his stubbornness reared its head. His frustration at losing another opportunity to enter the gaming field pushed away all his other thoughts.

Why did John need to apologize for being right? And if he didn't take the factories, they would be destroyed like the rest of Dylan's base. No, John didn't need to apologize for keeping Dylan's stuff intact. His friend should be thanking him for it. Without him, Dylan wouldn't have a thing.

Fine then, if Dylan didn't want to play, John wouldn't play. Anger burning, John slammed the VIS back onto his head and logged back into World of Supers. He made his way back to the sewers and reabsorbed all the tech; it wasn't like Dylan needed them. That done, the man stomped off through the sewers, he would show his friend exactly what would happen when he didn't listen.