The world unfolded in a rush of noise and blinding sunlight, voices clamoring around her. Squinting, Quinn raised an arm to shield her eyes.

  She was standing in a crowded outdoor market. Heat pressed down on her like a physical weight, the air oppressive with the briny odor of fish and sweat. Sun-faded canvas awnings flapped overhead, strung between rows of busy stalls. Beyond them glinted a broad, brown river with wooden boats creaking against the current.

  Quinn’s new enhanced senses were getting bombarded on all sides like someone had cranked the volume to max. Vendors bellowed over one another, their shouts hammering at her brain.

  Everything felt disturbingly real, just highly amplified. The only reminder this was a game was the overlay hovering in front of her, which displayed her stats and empty hotbar, among other things.

  A man brushed roughly past her, muttering a hurried apology. His muscular torso made him look human at first glance, until Quinn noticed the horns jutting through his thick curls and fur covering his goatlike legs. He wore nothing but a vest and looked like the result of crossbreeding a gym rat with a hoofed gremlin. Above his head was a red health bar and his level, which was 7.

  She scanned the crowd trying to spot other players like her, but only saw more of the same horned, furry creatures. Those nearest to her also had their health and level visible. Craning her neck back, she tried to see her own bar until she realized it was in her game overlay.

  A few exceptionally short figures with stocky builds and long beards were mixed in among the goat-like people. These, she at least thought she recognized. They resembled dwarves, their appearance matching those from the fantasy novels she used to read as a kid.

  She needed a plan. And a weapon. And intel, water, and a hat because this sun was a sadistic asshole. Whatever the dungeon could be, she wasn’t getting far until she figured out where she was and got some supplies.

  Glancing around, she spotted a booth with no customers and headed toward it. A horned woman sat behind a narrow table, carefully weighing brightly colored powders on a brass scale. She looked up as Quinn approached.

  “Uh, hello,” Quinn said nervously. “I was hoping you could tell me where I am?”

  The shopkeeper stared at her over half-moon glasses with an unreadable expression. After a long, uncomfortable pause, she grunted, “Rome,” and turned back to her work.

  Rome? Wasn’t that the abandoned city in the European Republic? Far from abandoned, this place was thriving. The sandstone buildings surrounding the market were sturdy and looked like they could’ve been built yesterday. Nothing was crumbling or neglected at all.

  “Right,” Quinn said, turning back around. “So, uh…what exactly are you? I mean—what do you call your people?” She attempted a friendly smile, but it came out as an awkward grimace.

  The woman eyed her suspiciously, taking in her frayed hoodie and torn jeans. “Faun,” she said gruffly, turning back to her powders as if the conversation were over.

  But Quinn would not be deterred. “Can you tell me—”

  The woman slammed the metal scoop she’d been holding onto the table with a sharp crack and glared at her. “You want information? Pay. Otherwise leave.” She flicked her hand in a shooing motion.

  Quinn sighed heavily, then pointed casually at one of the bottles on display. “Fine. What is that and how much?”

  “Leave,” the faun snapped. “You have no money.” She jabbed a finger toward the street.

  “Ok, ok!” Quinn said exasperatedly, holding her hands up and backing away.

  Ordinarily, she would’ve tried a more aggressive approach at that point, but the shopkeeper was level 6 and Quinn was level 1. She may be dumb sometimes but aimed not to make a habit of it.

  She tried asking a few more vendors and got shut down just as quickly.

  Frustrated, Quinn retreated to an empty corner and slouched onto a sun-warmed bench to think. She picked at a fraying thread on her hoodie which started to unravel. These were the same clothes she’d been wearing when she got into the pod. Yeah, she looked broke. Like don’t even bother trying to sell me lint broke.

  She was in a pickle. Nobody would give her answers without looking like she would buy something, and she needed information to come up with a plan.

  After brooding for a while, she decided the first thing to do was get new clothes. Naturally, that required money. Which was a problem.

  She briefly considered lifting something small and reselling it but quickly abandoned the idea as soon as she noticed the two massive guards posted at the entrance. They had bull heads and long, serpentine tails, their axes roughly the size of her upper body. Their levels were visible, which were both level 12.

  This was supposedly a safe zone but no way was she going to put her faith into that system by risking an ax to the skull. She could practically see the headline now: Bug causes player death by brutal ax-wielding monster in designated safe zone. See patch notes for fix.

  Scowling, Quinn decided her best bet was to see if any of the vendors had work. She brushed her hands off and was about to stand when a pair of tall figures swept past her. They stood out, dressed in clean, fitted leather tunics. It would have been easy to mistake them for players except for their unnaturally long, pointy ears. They must be elves, rich ones at that if their clothes were anything to go by.

  She caught part of their whispered conversation as they passed.

  “…and then Aurelius can’t possibly hope to maintain his position.”

  “But the votes—”

  Curious, she drifted after them, following at a safe distance. The elves soon slipped into a quiet corner and huddled together, their voices low and tense. Quinn wandered over to a nearby stall and pretended to examine a row of metal trinkets, angling herself just close enough to listen.

  “I spoke with Dorian,” the taller of the two was saying in a hushed tone. “He confirmed that Helion and Romarus are on board. Now we only need Lady Seranthe and Marcan Valecrest for a majority.”

  The other elf furrowed his brow. “I’m worried about Lady Seranthe. What if she tells House Baelor? You know what Aurelius does to those who cross him.” He shuddered, a look of horror crossing his face.

  They kept talking, but Quinn had stopped listening. A plan was blooming slowly and recklessly in her mind like a raccoon spotting an open trash can. She grinned wickedly. This was going to be delicious. And as a bonus, she could test the safe zone in a way that didn’t involve axes.

  Straightening her back, she stepped around the booth and confidently strode up to them.

  “Morning gentlemen,” she said lightly. “Mind if I join you?”

  They jumped, their heads snapping up as she approached. Their eyes drifted over her worn clothes and their surprise quickly vanished, replaced by matching sneers.

  “Go away, gutter rat,” the tall one said, his lip curling. “You’re contaminating our air.”

  “Hey now,” Quinn said, casually leaning against a pillar. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”

  “Lady!” the other one scoffed. “How insulting. You’re no more lady than a faun is.”

  “Interesting. So, you’re saying fauns outclass your ladies?” Quinn said. “I’d keep that one quiet if I were you. A woman scorned and all that.”

  The tall elf sputtered and began turning red. His friend placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  “Be calm, Varian,” he said, glancing around. “We do not want to attract attention here.”

  “Varian!” Quinn said loudly. “Oh man, what a mouthful. Mind if I call you Vermin instead? It’s so you.”

  Vermin’s already red face turned scarlet and he strode toward her, his hand gripping the sword at his waist. The other elf quickly jumped in front of him and pushed against his chest.

  “You dare!” Vermin snarled, pointing at Quinn while his friend struggled to hold him back. “With your foul, unworthy lips! I demand satisfaction. Let go, Callum!”

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Quinn said, stepping back and looked pointedly at the guards. “Didn’t mean to offend your high lordships. I can be on my way. Anyway, someone’s gotta tell Lady Seranthe your brilliant little scheme and all. See ya!” She started whistling merrily and turned to leave.

  “Wait!” cried Callum, sudden panic in his voice. “What did you just say?”

  Quinn turned back around. They had frozen in the middle of their struggle and were both staring at her in dismay. “Oh, you mean the part where I go and reveal your plot to Lady Seranthe and House Baelor?” she said. “That part?”

  Callum’s face drained of color. He clutched Vermin’s shoulder, who looked on the verge of exploding.

  “Of course, I could forget all about that,” Quinn continued sweetly. “For the right price.”

  Vermin ground his teeth and spit on the ground in front of her. “We do not bargain with gutter rats.”

  “How much,” Callum said quickly before Vermin could say anything more. His friend glared at him angrily.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “Everything you have,” said Quinn. “And I’ll know if you hide anything. Do that and the deal is off. Oh, and throw in one of your fancy tunics.”

  “We could kill you. Our houses are powerful and long-reaching,” Vermin hissed, but he was already digging through his pocket. He pulled out a coin purse and threw it at her feet. Callum did the same. “Enjoy your life, wretch, what little of it you have left.”

  Quinn yawned. “Yeah ok, buddy. Tunic too,” she said, snapping her fingers at Callum.

  He glared at her but slowly took it off and threw it on top of the purses at her feet. “You are an Oculi?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t be a very good one if I said yes, would I?” Quinn said cheerfully, thinking fast.

  She crouched down and scooped up the pile, which vanished as soon as she touched it. The tunic appeared neatly in her hotbar, and her gold jumped from zero to just over four thousand.

  Callum now stood there in a thin brown shirt looking remarkably less important. Vermin was visibly struggling not to attack her, his face an impressive shade of magenta.

  “You disgust me,” he snarled.

  “That’s not what your mom said last night.”

  Vermin howled in rage, drew back his hand and slapped Quinn hard across the face.

  Several things happened at once. Callum shouted, “No!” as her head snapped to the side. Though the impact had moved her, she hadn’t felt it and her health remained the same. Immediately, a notification with the words “SAFE ZONE: IMMUNE” flashed across her vision in giant letters.

  Vermin gasped, staggering back and clutched his hand to his chest. Angry, red boils bloomed across his skin causing his hand to swell grotesquely. He tore back his shirt sleeve, and Quinn saw them spreading up his arm, several rupturing violently as he moved.

  “I told you the consequences of using force in this place!” Callum hissed. “It is why we came here, you fool!”

  Quinn watched wide-eyed as the boils crept up Vermin’s neck and onto his face. One right beneath his eyebrow ballooned rapidly and burst, sending a viscous liquid oozing down his nose. Vermin locked eyes with her and snarled. He grabbed his sword but dropped it, howling with fresh pain as several blisters on his hand burst, only to regrow an instant later.

  Quinn ran. His screams followed her as she bolted to the far end of the market, weaving madly through the crowd. Once she’d put a comfortable distance between them, she ducked behind a tent and peeked around the corner. The guards were there and one was dragging a shrieking Vermin by his arm toward the exit. Callum followed with his nose pointed in the air, glaring at everyone who dared look at him.

  Oddly, the commotion hadn’t drawn much of a crowd. The fauns kept glancing over before hurrying the other way.

  Quinn let out a long breath and slid down the tent pole to the ground. She couldn’t believe that had actually worked. Not only did she now have money and something to wear, she’d also gotten valuable information. Apparently, the consequences of violence in a safe zone weren’t just for players.

  She opened her journal and documented everything that had just happened, names included. It may not be important, but she’d be furious with herself later if it was and she couldn’t remember the details.

  Now that she had gold, she was practically itching to go spend it all at once. Although four thousand gold seemed like a lot, she was sure it wouldn’t stretch far.

  Flipping to a fresh page in the journal, she wrote Priority List across the top and started jotting down everything that came to mind. Her stamina bar had been steadily decreasing, so food and water were a top priority. Those wouldn’t be expensive.

  She usually never left the apartment without her utility knife and pick-pocket kit, which she sorely missed. Replacing those was a must as well. Come to think of it, she had no idea what the locks were like here and made a mental note to experiment later.

  Clothes were a necessity. A tunic was great, but it wasn’t an outfit. She needed boots, pants, a shirt, and backup clothes because there was no way she was walking out of this market wearing anything she had with her right now. Vermin might not be able to jump her, but if Callum wasn’t scurrying off to get his buddies and come back to fuck up her day, then she was a turdburger. She needed to shop fast and get the hell out.

  Opening the upgrades tab, she quickly scanned the list to see if there was anything she needed. The inventory upgrade was the only thing that stood out, which increased her storage from twenty slots to fifty. She was seriously tempted to get it on the spot, but it cost half her gold. It got added to the list instead.

  If her previous experience was anything to go by, the vendors wouldn’t help her if she looked like a loft troll, so she decided to switch clothes before shopping. When she pulled up her inventory, she saw an equipment grid for clothing and gear in addition to her storage slots. Currently, she was equipped with a level 1 hoodie, jeans and shoes. The tunic sat in her inventory, displaying level 9 when she examined it.

  She equipped the tunic, sending the hoodie to storage. The change was instantaneous. Quinn looked down and felt a surprising rush of pleasure and confidence. The leather was worn and supple, immediately making her look less like a street urchin and more like someone who belonged here.

  Quinn organized her list—adding “pointy murder stick” near the top—and finally got up to go spend her hard-earned money. The vendors were suddenly much more accommodating, and she quickly found one selling food.

  She was used to eating microwave ramen and flavored tubes of gel. Nothing before her looked anything remotely close to that. The stall had an attractive display of fruit, small wheels of cheese, whole fish and even fried dough coated in honey that smelled unbelievable. Everything was fresh and gave some kind of buff or healing bonus when consumed.

  Quinn wanted to buy everything but had limited storage. Hydration came first, so she picked up an expensive refillable water flask which could later be upgraded to a self-filtering bottomless canteen. Then she bought a decent amount of the pricier food items since their buffs were better and they stacked neatly in her inventory. The grilled meat alone restored her stamina to full per serving.

  Done with her food purchases, she acted on a tip from the vendor and swung by a neighboring stall to stock up on health potions as well.

  Afterwards, she went shopping for clothes. What she really wanted was a weapon but didn’t want to blow all her gold on it yet. So, she headed to another booth where she bought a pair of fitted thigh-length shorts, leather boots and a hooded cloak. The gear was only level 2, but it seemed like almost everything in this game could be upgraded.

  She also grabbed a cheap level 1 length of fabric that wrapped around her body, which the vendor called a toga. Quinn thought it looked more like a bedsheet, but plenty of NPCs were wearing them, and if it helped her blend in, so be it.

  Her gold considerably depleted, she was finally ready to buy her weapon and tools. As she approached the next booth, she could see a dwarf sitting behind the table polishing a sword. Every merchant she’d interacted with so far had been a faun. They were gruff and short-tempered, but it turns out dwarves just might be worse.

  He was blunt and absolutely refused to haggle, staring at Quinn like she was nothing more than an earthworm with a bit of coin. Even so, he grew surprisingly animated and chatty when she asked questions about his merchandise.

  After deliberating, Quinn settled on a beautiful level 3 lock-pick set and utility blade. It drained her gold and left her with only six hundred for a weapon. She couldn’t get the one she really wanted, which was a level 12 set of iron throwing stars that automatically returned to your hand. It cost almost two thousand gold, which was no longer had. Instead, she bought a level 4 bronze set of throwing knives and instantly fell in love with them.

  That left her with a measly thirty gold. She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t splurged on the inventory upgrade, though she’d definitely need it soon. Her inventory was now almost maxed out, with her old clothes were taking up a lot of room. She’d tried to sell them at the clothing stall, but the shopkeeper had laughed in her face.

  Once again, she needed money. Luckily, this city seemed to place a hefty premium on secrets. With her new Shadow Step ability, secrets were something she could acquire very easily. And she happened to know who had a lot of them.

  As she turned to leave, she caught sight of another player for the first time. His back was to her, but she recognized him instantly as the guy from orientation with the cowboy hat. He was at a booth with colorful powders, spending lots of gold by the looks of it. At least ten different bottles sat on the table in front of him, which vanished as he scooped them up. Clearly, he’d already bought the inventory upgrade.

  Quinn didn’t want to be seen by him. She quickly ducked behind the dwarf’s stall and equipped the toga and cloak, flipping the hood up to hide her black hair and lack of horns.

  She was about to slip away when a notification popped up. She opened it without thinking, her eyes growing wide as she read.

  When Quinn had imagined what the dungeon would be, she’d pictured an epic fight with a dragon or daring chase through a trap-filled maze—not an elaborate political quest. This was far more involved than she’d expected.

  She couldn’t close the window before picking a side. The elves weren’t going to work with her after what she did, so choosing them was out. Besides, wrestling a god into a cage sounded like a recipe for disaster. The dwarf quest looked like she’d also have to cozy up to elves, which would end just as poorly. That left the fauns. They wanted to steal something from the ruling class.

  An evil grin slowly spread across Quinn’s face. She made her choice and closed the quest window. Immediately, a new quest window popped up.

  The reward was so enticing that she smiled, eager to steal more things from the elves.

  Squaring her shoulders, she finally headed out of the market and into the political cesspool of Rome.