The locker room smelled like any locker room the world over, or at least every locker room back on Earth. This was likely the only locker room to exist on this entire new planet. Alex shook his head – what a strange thought.

  He wrinkled his nose at the intense smells of disinfectant and detergent and peeled off his trainee uniform, the dark weave clinging stubbornly to his shoulders from the day’s sweat. Three days ago, the thing had felt like a costume for a LARP event; now it felt like a uniform he was abandoning.

  He sat on the bench for a moment, the shirt thrown onto the floor to drape over his discarded boots, and thought over his weekend.

  Friday night had changed his perspective on life. Not just his life, but ‘Life, The Universe and Everything’ to quote one of his favourite authors. The existence of new worlds was mind blowing enough. The fact that he was part of such a small group that even knew about it, felt… he didn’t even know. Exciting? The word felt way too underwhelming.

  And as if that wasn’t mind-bending enough, he had not only discovered magic, but an ability to use it… even if he still had no idea how.

  And the exercise and sparring and bruises and people… All of it was alien and unknown just 3 days ago. And all of it felt so right already, so natural. Like home.

  He closed his eyes and exhaled, slowly. Breathed in again. In his chest he could feel the change. An echo of what had happened at the Tavern. He could feel the mana in the air around him now. Like a static electricity on his skin, but something he felt inside, not out.

  A locker door banging shut in another aisle caught his attention. He shook himself off and continued changing back into his Earth clothes. He thought about folding the uniform but then just collected everything but the boots and belt and tossed them into a large grey, plastic bin marked LAUNDRY.

  His clothes, wallet and backpack sat in the locker along with his runners – relics from another life. He pulled the hoodie on; it felt lighter than it should but tighter across the shoulders. It was really strange putting on so much muscle in one weekend, but the ANIP system was pretty incredible. He had weighed himself before getting changed and he had gained just over ten pounds in just a few days – all of it earned, but none of it normal.

  He had worked his ass off, but the nanobots had made all that work exponentially effective.

  He sat down to tie his sneakers. The gesture felt absurdly mundane.

  Jay, humming tunelessly, finished before him and checked his reflection in the mirror at the end of the aisle. “Man,” he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m sleeping for twelve hours straight tonight.”

  “I think I’ll sleep until Wednesday,” Danny said.

  “I doubt your nanobots will let you,” Alex said with a laugh. “Tomorrow morning we’ll all wake up at dawn again, feeling like a million bucks.”

  Their banter bounced off the tiles like a well-worn rhythm. Alex smiled faintly as he stuffed his tablet charger into his backpack. This too felt like home already. As comfortable and familiar as his D&D nights with all his old friends. Side Quest Heroes. What was he going to do about that? It already seemed redundant in his life and he hadn’t even really gone out on an actual mission here yet.

  All of his old friends now lived on the opposite side of a vast chasm that he didn’t know how to bridge. A vast chasm that was only going to grow wider.

  Jay nudged him. “You good, Mercer?”

  “Yeah,” Alex said. “Just thinking.”

  “Dangerous habit. Try not to do it in front of Vance; she’ll assign you more laps.”

  “Noted.”

  They all laughed, the easy laughter of people who had already lived through something together, even if Alex didn’t quite have the words for what that something was yet. The sound settled into his bones, comfortable.

  When they filed out into the corridor, the mood changed. The air was cooler in the hallway and the lighting was a sharp, bright white. Redundant signs in corporate font lined the hall: PORTAL DECK – AUTHORIZED ONLY.

  The hallway ended in the portal room, and behind them was the security checkpoint they’d passed through on the way down. Alex smiled back at Al, the same guard they had met on Friday, adjusted the strap on his backpack and followed the guys into the main portal room to wait for Mel and Rae.

  The portal chamber hummed with a low tension and the smell of ozone and plastic filled the air.

  Valentina walked around the far corner of the hallway and nodded to Al as she passed by the checkpoint. Alex noticed that he didn’t stop her to check what she was bringing through.

  She looked effortlessly composed, and ultimately elegant – the kind of woman who could sell both salvation and sin in the same breath. The overhead lights caught on a platinum streak that wove through her dark hair, gleaming like a punctuation mark over everything she said.

  “Good evening, talents,” she said, voice smooth enough to have been pre-recorded. Then she stopped and looked around. “Actually, we’re missing a few.”

  “Here!” said Mel as she and Rae came around the corner from the woman's locker room. Valentina nodded to both of them.

  “Perfect. So! The first weekend is ‘done and dusted’ as they say in the field. You should all be very proud of yourselves.”

  The group straightened reflexively, despite feeling too tired to even stand properly.

  Valentina smiled broadly. “You’ve made excellent first impressions. The metrics are through the roof as expected – engagement, retention, even emotional sentiment. Our audience already has favorites.” Her eyes slid down the line until they landed briefly on Alex, then moved on. “Keep up the same energy moving forward, and you’ll do fine.” She laughed at her own words. “Who am I kidding? You will all do much BETTER than fine!”

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  She clasped her hands lightly in front of her. “Now, before we send you home to your regularly scheduled lives, a few reminders. Corporate secrets remain just that – corporate and secrets. And while I realize the existence of a new world and your specific roles in Dungeon Inc. are exciting topics, you are contractually and neurologically forbidden from discussing the reality of your positions here.”

  A few of the trainees shifted uneasily. They had discussed the corporate overlord side reality of the nanobot system at the tavern the previous night, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. You just had to accept the bad that came with so much good.

  Valentina’s smile didn’t waver. “Don’t worry. Small corrections, like if you accidentally let something slide, are barely noticeable. But, the experience of the nanonet taking control of your vocal cords can be… uncomfortable, if you try to fight it. So I suggest avoiding the temptation altogether. When in doubt, talk about your ‘training retreat,’ your ‘acting camp,’ or just say you’ve signed too many NDAs. Our PR team has already prepared convenient cover stories and sent them to your HUDS.”

  She paused and her eyes looked inward for a second and then everyone’s ANIPs pinged confirmation. Alex felt the faint vibration against his jaw as he saw the notification pop up. He opened the alert and a gold-toned data pane flickered in his vision, the SCRY division logo glowing at the top.

  “Excellent,” Valentina said brightly. “Now, good news. Your first Earth-side paycheck will be deposited by tomorrow morning, along with your equivalent Earth-3 credit stipend. You can pick that up from L.O.O.T. when you get back on Friday.”

  That woke them up.

  Mel, predictably, raised a hand. “Uh, how much are we talking? The contracts talked about percentages based on ratings, etc. but what does all that mean for regular pay?”

  Alex watched her as she spoke. He had the same question really. They probably all did. They had discussed it at the Silver Gate the previous night. He thought about how much it said that none of them had cared to find out specifics before signing the contract. Ultimately the pay had mattered much less than the opportunity to appear on Dungeon Inc.

  Valentina’s expression warmed into PR-perfect amusement. “That depends on your contract tier, of course, so it will change over time. Base trainees receive a standard weekly rate, while later on it will transition to something based more off the Dungeons you clear plus your SM engagement, and overall HERObook popularity, etc.

  “Over the next month as you head into your first dungeons, bonuses will be handed out based on performance and cumulative attention on the show – meaning the more memorable and attention-getting your footage, the more zeros on your balance.”

  “Weekly?” Rae echoed.

  “Twice,” Valentina corrected. “You’re paid weekly on both sides – Earth currency deposited automatically in the bank accounts you provided and in Earth-3 currency, which will be available at the C.O.I.N. office when you come back next week. Dungeon Inc. believes good work deserves good pay. And trust me, pretty soon you won’t be wanting for anything.”

  Alex noticed that she didn’t actually say how much they were getting, but he didn’t really care. Maybe she didn’t know, although he doubted it. She just couldn’t help but to spin up the story to get them excited more than giving them a little actual data.

  Fortunately, listening to the story, he was pretty confident that the pay was going to be better than any other part-time job he could get. And he had seen how Marcus and the rest of the Iron Fangs had been throwing money around at the tavern the last few nights, buying drinks for everyone and betting on stupid games with the locals. None of them looked the slightest bit concerned, even when they lost huge piles of the silver coin that seemed to be the local standard.

  Valentina clapped her hands once, lightly. “Now – go home, rest, enjoy the illusion of your normal life. We will see you back here Friday night, bright-eyed, camera-ready, and hopefully less concussed than some of you were this morning!”

  A few chuckles rippled through the line. Even Rae laughed a little.

  Valentina stepped aside as the portal ring began to hum softly, the lights around the frame cycling up once more. The air vibrated, and Alex could feel something in the air reacting. Mana. He thought he could see it shifting through the air and entering the portal.

  He thought about dropping into his breathing technique, if he could meditate on it for a minute he would be able to see the mana much more clearly. He was interested to see how it was really reacting to the portal. But he was distracted from this thought by Valentina once more.

  “Remember,” she said, “you are Dungeon Inc. pioneers – a bridge between worlds. But more importantly,” she tilted her head, eyes catching the portal’s glow and gave them her very best smile, “you are also the product. When you get back you will eventually be inundated by new fans. Remember to keep your heads and always smile.”

  She gave them a dazzling producer’s wave. “Safe travels, talents.”

  Shaking his head, Jay stepped through first. The light of the portal swallowed him.

  Alex adjusted his backpack strap, heart doing a weird syncopated beat. He thought of the relentless drills of the weekend, of that shimmer in the air that made this world feel so much more alive.

  Then he looked at Valentina – calm, composed, completely in charge – and thought of Earth. The expectations. School and friends and his normal life. And now having to deal with serious fans that would make the number of Side Quest Heroes followers seem like a joke.

  His turn came.

  He gave Valentina a small nod. “See you Friday,” he said.

  Her smile was precise. “I’ll be watching.”

  He turned back and looked at the shifting surface of the portal for a moment. He’d be back in four days… but he wondered what version of himself would come back on Friday

  He stepped forward and the light took him.

  ***

  Everybody keeps discussing what they are getting paid back on earth. Like it matters. Like they understand how to predict it. They can’t. I haven’t talked to a single adventurer here that understands how they are getting paid. All anyone knows is that it’s a lot.

  The problem is the contract is full of hazard multipliers, audience bonuses, loot shares, survival clauses, and a dozen other levers that move depending on who almost dies each week. Everybody's making a small fortune. That’s all that matters at the end of the day.

  Although, after three months, it stops mattering.

  A small fortune in Earth money is a completely abstract concept after you stop going back to Earth. It's just something that keeps accumulating—digits ticking upward in some system you barely think about.

  It’s like working an oil rig, or a deep mine somewhere where you are onsite for weeks at a time. Long rotations. Nowhere to spend a cent. You tell yourself it’s temporary and you’re banking everything for the future.

  Maybe one day I’ll go back and realize I’m rich. But I’m not actually sure I’d know how to live back there ever again.

  Personal Journal

  Crimson Fangs

  Janice Rommel, Ranger