Dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and torn jeans, a smirk on his face and a worn baseball cap on his head, the man approached, kicking his legs out like a cowboy in an old movie. Rather than artistically torn, the jeans were half-sewn in some places and ripped awkwardly in others, more the pair of jeans kept around to paint the house in than fashionable, and the faded shirt, printed with a long-defunct flag and an eagle, likewise had the air of desperation and bargin-bin freebies rather than a fashion choice.

Rowan watched him approach nervously. How long has he been there? I didn’t notice him at all. Did he see me playing with the doors?

Lancelot and Terry moved as one, pushing Morgan and Jude behind them. Summoning her lance with a gesture, and brandishing his sword with a flourish, they pointed their weapons at the dark-clothed man. From behind them, Morgan gestured. His eyes glowed and his hair swirled as magic gathered around him threateningly. Jude hunkered down, acting helpless.

Oh, sure. Sure. Rowan rolled his eyes at Jude’s back.

“Ooh, impressive, very impressive. You know, you’ve attracted a lot of attention, shooting up the leaderboard like that. When I laid this net, I didn’t expect to catch a fish quite so large, quite so fast. Fifty points already, between the lot of you. I gotta say, hats off to ya.”

“Back off. You won’t win this fight,” Lancelot growled.

Ignoring her, the man continued, “Fifty points isn’t a lot, but I don’t like anyone else taking the limelight, you know? And it’s so much easier to take points when your opponents gather them for you. So, ah, hand ‘em over.”

“You think we’ll just give you our points?” Terry shouted.

Abruptly, Morgan squeaked. His eyes faded, and his hair stopped floating. He grappled wildly at his neck. A wire wound tight there, his skin already reddening where it dug in. The Assassin-like woman Rowan had seen as a clone earlier yanked, pulling it tighter.

Terry spun. “Let him go!”

In that moment, the dark-clothed man’s figure blurred. He reappeared behind Terry, a dagger already in his hand.

Lancelot jabbed with her lance. The dagger glanced off the metal moments before it struck home. Terry spun back around and stared, flabbergasted.

“Don’t turn your back on the enemy!” Lancelot snarled.

The dark-clothed man smirked. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve already gotcha tied up tight.”

A ring of light appeared, centered around the fountain. The dark-clothed man and the Assassin woman retreated in opposite directions, the Assassin dropping Morgan as she went. Lancelot charged after the man, but slammed into an invisible wall where the light burned through the ground. She grit her teeth and stabbed at the wall again. “Cheat!”

All around them, clones stumbled into the invisible wall repeatedly, too stupid to figure out that their path was blocked.

If he was really cheating, Jude wouldn’t let it go, Rowan commented silently. He watched the blue-haired man, but Jude looked as panicked as the other three.

“Never met a Trapper before? Well,” he chuckled, “I guess you don’t see many of us outside the country, and you don’t strike me as GSEZ folk.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows. He’s from the GSEZ? Same as Ikara?

The Trapper shook his head. “This Tower really is one big joke. Amy, you wanna?”

A woman stood up from the table he’d been sitting at and adjusted her ballcap. Squinting at the trapped four, she clawed upward. “Deluge!”

The fountain cracked, then burst. A column of water smashed through the basin and the cobblestones around them, rushing for the sky. Lancelot threw herself over the other three, and then the water washed over them. Rowan lost track as they tossed about in the rushing water, but when it all drained away, Lancelot and the other three huddled in a sodden mess, smashed up against the invisible wall of the trap circle. Clones laid strewn around them, mangled into a pile of bodies.

The Trapper walked over and crouched next to them. Casually, he dispelled the circle and lifted their heads one by one. “Unconscious, unconscious, unconscious, and…”

Lancelot jumped up to her hands and knees and jabbed a punch at him. He jumped, startled, then drew back his leg and kicked her in the head. Her eyes rolled back, and she sagged to the cobbles.

“Unconscious. Whew, we cleaned up! That’s fifty points for this guy,” the man said, pleased with himself.

“For us,” the Assassin corrected, scowling at him.

“Whatever you say, Marlene,” he chuckled.

“What’re we gonna do about the rat?” Amy asked, nodding at Rowan.

Rowan stiffened. They did see me play with the doors. Shit! One little mistake...

Breaking disguise, he grabbed the railing and went to throw himself over it. Halfway there, his body froze, hands plastered to the railing, leg half-raised. Rowan scowled. Dammit! I hate restraint skills.

“Seeing as how he enjoyed the show, I’m betting he’s got no love lost between hisself and these fools,” the Trapper commented as he approached, Amy and Marlene in tow. A faint thread of light connected his outstretched finger to Rowan. “Is that the case, boy?”

“Huh? I, uh—no, we aren’t friends. And, uh, I have no points,” Rowan stammered. I can talk? What kind of restraint skill is this?

“Good, good. Well, we’ll be putting you out anyways. Can’t have no one see where we’re going.”

“I—I won’t look! I promise, okay?” Rowan said. He struggled with all his might, but his body remained frozen. Only his head could move, fat lot of good that does me.

The man shook his head. “Ain’t no honor among thieves, and we know it. Jacob, boy. Come put this 'ere child to rest.”

A mountain of a man with his cap on backward lurched over from the table. Easily a foot taller than Rowan and as much wider, the ground rumbled when he walked. He stomped up to Rowan slowly. Cracking his knuckles, he gave Rowan an apologetic nod. “Now, this’s gonna hurt some.”

“You really don’t have to,” Rowan replied, grimacing.

Jacob grinned and drew back his fist.

Behind Rowan, the stone door creaked open. A clone began to step through.

The restraint spell broke. Rowan jumped back. Absorb the hit! I can't take a full punch. With my shitty support stats, he might kill me by accident!

Jacob’s fist slammed into his gut. All the air flew out of Rowan's lungs. He folded in on himself and flew back, tumbled past the clone behind him as it stepped through the door, and fell into darkness.