I could hear DD’s voice as I ran toward them.

  “Maurice, what the fuck is he talking about?!”

  “I don’t know, nigga! It’s ready to go, just get in the car!”

  DD vanished inside of it and flew off. Our steed roared to life as Maurice waited for me. With the heat from the pyromancer’s flame on my heels, I hopped in. We shot off after DD, swerving erratically all the while until we stabilized. I could still feel the flame as we sat in silence.

  “Maurice, the secret tunnel had pyromancers–”

  “Nigga, I swear if I hear one more word about pyromancers I will–YOUR FOOT IS ON FIRE!”

  I looked down to see the bottom of my pants leg still ablaze. I frantically patted it out, and sighed in relief. I looked over at Maurice. His face was stone cold and focused on the path ahead.

  “I see you freed the dragon–”

  “That’s another thing! It’s car! A car! You know this! There’s no way that you got shot and refer to to cars as ‘steel dragons’ or ‘steel beasts’ or whatever the fuck–it’s a car!”

  “Car…that sounds underwhelming.”

  “It sounds like what it IS,” he groaned, “We should have just let this shit go. All because you wanna know who shot you.”

  “I think that’s, if anything, very reasonable.”

  We came to a stop. DD was leaning on the steel dra–

  The car.

  Leaning on the car Maurice had freed. A group of men stood behind him. Some were drinking brightly colored potions where others smoked and laughed. The moment we stepped out was the moment their chatter ceased.

  We were behind more old brick buildings. Housed inside of them were various other cars of many shapes and sizes, no doubt delivered the same way. Maurice carried an annoyed look as we walked toward him.

  “Not bad, Maurice,” DD said, “Just like old times. Coulda been a little faster though, but it’s whatever. Just a test.”

  I gave Maurice a thumbs up.

  He gave no reaction.

  “As for this stupid ass nigga,” DD said, turning to me, “What the fuck where you doing? Pyromancers? Secret passage?”

  “I was looking for valuables that would aid on my journey. As for the pyromancer–”

  I could sense Maurice’s ire without having to look. I cut the rest of my sentence, opting to stay silent.

  DD and his men laughed. After a moment, DD spoke to me again.

  “I don’t know what the fuck type of fantasy getting shot put you in, but was a molotov, nigga. And it looks like your pants paid the price. Next time, do what I say.”

  “What do you mean, next time?” said Maurice, “He fucked up the entire thing.”

  “True, but you didn’t,” DD sneered, “And the car is in good condition, no thanks to your dumbass cousin.”

  I decided to stay silent, against my best judgement.

  “And because he wants to be a dumbass, I’m taking an additional five percent from each of you. Consider it something to cover the exposure you brought.”

  “Ey,” said a man from behind him, “You got a problem? Got your fists all balled up.”

  I had not noticed until the man said something. I slowly let them relax, keeping my eyes on DD.

  “I’d say that we could do another today, but you raised the heat–literally. I’ll come get you when I have another mark. When I feel like I can trust you and your fantasy–ass cousin, we can do the real job.”

  “Fine,” sighed Maurice, “And send me his cut as well.”

  “Pardon–”

  “You said your share didn’t matter as long as you figured out the name of the guy. Since you’re dragging me into this shit, I’m getting paid for it.”

  Maurice walked off without another word.

  “Hey, Jamal,” DD called, “Lemme talk to you right quick.”

  I turned to see DD approaching me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke.

  “Your cousin? You better listen to his ass. You got one more fuck up before our deal is off. You want the evidence? I want the money. And money is no good when the Russian you pissed off goes to the police. Understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Don’t fuck this up.”

  [TUTORIAL QUEST: GET YOUR GET BACK PART 2–UPDATED]

  [MISSION: PRACTICE RUN]

  [STATUS: COMPLETE]

  [REWARDS: 10% = $500]

  [REWARDS: + REP]

  Five hundred? Not bad for just being a lookout.

  [PENALTY APPLIED: DD (? of 10%) – NEW TOTAL: $250]

  [PENALTY APPLIED: MAURICE (DONATED) – NEW TOTAL: $0]

  Donated. Perhaps I should have watched my words.

  [NEW OBJECTIVE: WAIT FOR DD’S CALL]

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  I started walking back toward Maurice and the car. Risking the ire of a pyromancer with nothing to show for it? Dreadful.

  I sat in the idle car in silence. Maurice was fixated on his phone, tapping away at an unknown task.

  “...apologies,” I muttered.

  Maurice glanced up.

  “What?”

  “Apologies,” I repeated, “It was not my attention to grab the attention of the pyroman–the molotov man. I saw a secret passage and could not help but look to increase our earnings.”

  “This nigga–you wanna increase your earnings? Get a job. Get a nine to five. Donate plasma. You wanna know who shot you? Cool. You wanna earn a little money doing it? Fine. Then don’t go around getting Russians to chase you and stick to the job!”

  “I will. The task at hand is finding him. Everything else will fall to the wayside.”

  “However you gotta say it, I don’t care,” he sighed, “Here–”

  He tapped his phone once.

  [FUNDS ACQUIRED: MAURICE–$125]

  [NEW TOTAL: $35 + $125 = $160]

  “I’m only taking half,” he said as he started up the car, “I didn’t eat this morning so you’re paying.”

  “Somewhere cheap, reliable, and impossible for you to mess up at.”

  —

  We walked in together and sat at the counter.

  “Very…interesting crowd,” I muttered, “Is the House of Waffles always this full?”

  “Yup.”

  A muscular man with a scar came by and asked for our order. Maurice ordered for me.

  “Two all stars.”

  “Any drinks?”

  “Two orange juices.”

  The man nodded and walked off.

  “Maurice, why is that man working here?”

  He glanced at the man who took our order and looked back at me.

  “Do you know him or something?”

  “No, but a man of that size? Working as a server? He should be a pit fighter.”

  Just then a group of three entered the House of Waffles. After making themselves known, they walked over to an occupied table, and demanded the patron leave. Upon refusal, the three men started to cause more trouble.

  “I said you’re done eating! Now get the fuck out of our booth–”

  “Aye, nigga, you need to leave. You’re disrespectin’ our customers.”

  It was our server. Everyone around me was either staring or pulling out their phones. Was this a performance?

  “You must not know who the fuck we is, nigga!” said the first man, “We run this shit, and they was just leavin’. Now get the fuck out my face–”

  He pushed our server a step back.

  “Ah shit,” said Maurice, holding his phone out.

  Our server responded with a right hook to his jaw, dropping him to the floor. The House of Waffles roared in approval as the remaining two readied themselves.

  Their efforts were swiftly countered by our server. He evaded the wild swing from the second man and hit him with a left to the side. As he doubled over on the ground, the third man pulled out a knife.

  It was then another employee came from behind and restrained the knife arm, allowing our server to grab the third man by the shirt and dispatch him in the same way he had the first.

  The House of Waffles erupted in cheer as patrons rose from their seats to get closer to the unconscious men. A woman from behind the counter called for order as other employees dragged the trio out.

  Two glasses of orange juice were placed in front of us. I looked up to see our server walk away without a word.

  “What sort of tavern is this?”

  “It’s Waffle House,” Maurice said, taking a sip from his glass, “They don’t play that shit here.”

  Over time the volume level returned to where it was when we walked in. Our food came swiftly after. In between bites I tried to inspect each employee, curious as to how strong they were. Each time I was met by a familiar wall of text.

  [SLY LEVEL TOO LOW TO INSPECT]

  [SLY: 5]

  “Stop staring.”

  Maurice took another bite of his food and continued.

  “Making us look suspicious,” he stated, “Then you have a nigga tweaking because he thought you had a problem with him.”

  “Well, how am I supposed to surmise how strong they are?”

  “You don’t. Mind your business and keep it pushing.”

  We finished our meal in silence. For a staff of hired mercenaries, they cooked quite a meal. Our server came back with a small yellow slip, placed it on the table, and walked away.

  Maurice pushed it over to me and motioned to the front, where a line of others were. I joined the line and waited for my turn. Upon reaching the front, the lady took the slip and requested nineteen dollars.

  I patted my pockets, realizing I was not carrying any of the bills I had yesterday.

  “Everything okay, sir?”

  “It seems I don’t have–”

  I saw a cook slowly turn his head.

  I felt a pair of eyes drill into the back of head.

  The House of Waffles did indeed not play.

  My phone vibrated angrily. When I pulled it out, everything in the tavern fell silent. Everyone was frozen in place as new text appeared in front of me.

  [TUTORIAL: PAYING]

  [WAVE PHONE OVER TERMINALS TO PAY]

  Easy enough–

  [YOU MAY LEAVE ESTABLISHMENTS WITHOUT PAYING]

  What?

  [DOING SO WILL RESULT IN:]

  [>AN INCREASE HEAT LEVEL]

  [>RESULTS IN +REP IF DONE SUCCESSFULLY]

  I remembered how the trio of men were swiftly dispatched. To make an enemy of the House of Waffles would not be my intention. Everyone around me started to move once more as I came to my senses.

  “Don’t have what?” the lady repeated.

  Another cook made eye contact with me.

  “Don’t have…enough great things to say about this tavern!”

  I summoned a laugh and waved my phone over the terminal. The lady smiled while everyone else took their eyes off of me.

  [CASH UPDATED: $141]

  “Have a nice day, thank you.”

  Maurice and I stepped out. We saw men in blue uniforms taking the trio of men in cuffs, escorting them into large black cars. Maurice picked up his pace slightly and ushered me to do the same.

  We left the House of Waffles swiftly, now on the way to an unknown destination.

  “We need to lay low for a couple days,” he sighed, “I have no way of knowing if that Russian dude caught my plate, and I’m not finding out.”

  “What are we to do in the meantime?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m minding my business. Two days out the hospital and I’m already stealing cars,” he groaned, “I’ll call you when DD has something for us, until then? Stay your ass out of trouble.”

  The rest of our journey went without note as we travelled in silence. We arrived at my house, Maurice gave me a nod, and left without another word. The moment his car disappeared around the corner, another pane popped up.

  [TUTORIAL: PASSING TIME]

  [IN BETWEEN QUESTS YOU CAN TRAIN, SOCIALIZE, OR REMAIN IDLE]

  [NEW LOCATIONS ON YOUR MAP HAVE BEEN MARKED:]

  [>REED’S PARK]

  [>GYM]

  [>GAS STATION]

  My finger hovered over the options. Maurice told me to stay out of trouble.

  I decided to follow the blue line to my destination. What trouble could come from a stroll in the park?