And so, Tenner walked onwards to Realm 676.

As he passed the first dozen meters into the desolation, dust painting his boots, the guide stepped towards him, his CHEK spawning a holographic magnifying glass.

Growling, Ames snatched the magnifying glass. She looked deep into the guide’s eyes and said, “Who are you spying on?”

“Dear, I-- I--”

Ames snatched him by the collar.

“You will now lead us to where I and my friend have to go.”

Reluctantly, the guide nodded, despawning his magnifying glass.

Tenner stopped in his tracks, turning around for one last time. The gates were creeping shut, yet he could still see Ames’ and Gi’s eyes. Ames’ heart ached for the kid. He’d gone through a hellish experience--something she knew a thing or two about--and now he would have to survive another nightmare… alone. Without a family. Without a gang. Ames had no idea how he, anyone, for that matter, could go through anything alone.

Ames looked deeply back into Tenner’s eyes. Though the kid, no matter the situation, never seemed afraid, a tiny trembling glimmer of fear stayed in his eyes.

It wasn’t the fear of being chased by an apex predator bounty hunter. Not the fear of dying, either. It was fear of losing control… destroying himself from within… and becoming worse than the villains of his life.

“When we meet again, Blackglove is going to be hung by a guitar string! I’ll play a solo with that string, too!” Tenner shouted.

And despite the fear, you’re still trying your hardest to keep our spirits up, Ames thought.

Tenner yelled again, “May you draw all aces.”

“Stay strong, kid,” she whispered then shouted back, “May you draw all aces.”

The desolation’s dust and the leviathan Realm’s lingering shadows swallowed Tenner.

Now, the guide snatched Ames, Gi by the forearms and dragged them towards Wirehaven’s downtown. The guide brought her back to reality. Reminded her that Tenner wasn’t the only one on a difficult journey. She remembered that her journey was one of torment. Because of Blackglove. And Blackglove still hadn’t gotten what he deserved.

Ames looked up, with fierce eyes, at the airship looming above the town. She would face whatever mysteries it held within. There, she would do whatever she could to hasten the end of that lunarist.

The guide stopped at an intersection.

“Good man, you must follow the electricity-- hush, hush, hush,” the guide said. “Go after it and you shall find the greatest workshop there is.”

A glowing electrical line started at a streetlight and led onto a district of craftsmen. Gi followed it, disappearing into the shadows. Silently, the guide nodded to move along. In this moment of solitude in a new home, discomfort gripped Ames’ skin. She followed the guide, weary of every corner they passed.

The center of Wirehaven loomed in a permanent night. In fact, the shadows of the zeppelin above were so fast, it seemed that the town was desolate until figures, like flies, passed the streetlights, which glimmered on every corner. Walking deeper, Ames caught glimpses of the town’s archy architecture and dark wall art.

In the sky, around the cobweb of wires, fireflies danced.

Looking harder, it seemed that people walked on the wires as well. But the figures were blurry -- Ames didn’t trust her eyes.

The guide led her to a dead plaza, the center of Wirehaven. The plaza housed a sole phone on a pole. As the guide fixed his suit, he stopped by it and began instructing Ames.

“Pick up the phone and say your full name. Then, say you’re a four-year volunteer by the Chiefs’ orders. And you request a pickup. You may or may not get a response, but once you say these words, your fate is sealed.”

“What if I don’t? My friend has already passed. I could just run away.”

Quietly, the guide turned his head towards the fortress of Wirehaven. He shook his head, dread in every one of his tiny movements. Goosebumps ran up and down Ames. I shouldn’t know, she realized and picked up the phone.

Someone breathed on the other side.

Ames recited the guide’s script and a nasal voice responded to her, “Roger. Standby.”

A CHEKscan popped out of the phone and engulfed her in light.

[You are now Private Ames Cap. You are Wirehaven. Wirehaven is you. Until your service is complete, there is nothing, but your service.]

The guide bowed three times in three different ways.

“I-- no, the entirety of Wirehaven, we thank you for your service,” he said with a frustrating sweetness and disappeared in the endless night of the downtown.

Ames was confused and… flattered? You don’t get saluted being a bandit leader. The best of the best? Sure, sometimes, but they earned it from terrible sins and fiending for that respect. I might like this place, she thought. I’m a private who’s already treated like a hero.

I’m a private… In an army, right? There’s an army up on that zeppelin? Different thoughts flooded Ames. How’s a gang different from an army? In quite a few ways, I suppose, but, luckily, there are two very similar things: you can become the leader of both and get a lot out of them once you’re at the top. You see, a mastermind can’t kill Blackglove on her own. An army backing her? That’s a completely different question.

Schemes and plots, and ideas formed before her very eyes.

Mechanisms slowly shifted at the bottom of the blimp, quaking, with their sheer force, all of Wirehaven’s cables. A hole tore open in the bottom of the zeppelin and a black levita emerged, swiftly descending. Ames held her ground. Then, from the shaking of the cables, the buildings of Wirehaven rocked. Big shapes danced in the shadows of the downtown. Momentarily, the ground began to move under Ames’ feet.

Ames tried to keep calm, but fear gripped her. She grabbed her machine-gun. Not like it would help in any way, but momentarily, it made her safe from everything.

Ten meters from the surface, the levita activated a pair of new engines and froze into a halt, a few meters from Ames.

A hull door opened and Ames got in. The pilot gave her one look--the look of someone who had gone through this process a thousand times and was, subsequently, exhausted of it--then he swiped his hand through the hologram. The levita shot upwards.

Ames snatched a railing, braced… but gravity remained the same. No thrashing. No whiplash. Somehow, the levita’s spectacular speed was offset inside.

Ames staggered forward. Through a window, all of Wirehaven could be seen. She walked up to the pilot, put a hand on her machine gun and said, “Not gonna speak to me? No introductions?”

“Scary scar you have there,” the pilot said. “And… that’s enough -- my orders are to bring you up, private, not to make conversation. The sergeant does that.”

The zeppelin swallowed the levita. Ames made it back to the hull door, which opened a moment later. The steps down led to a dark cargo hull with faint lights shimmering every dozen meters. Deep in the cargo hull, a man stood beside a light. He stood straight as a laserpistol’s barrel, donned an aviator jacket with countless medals, and blinked a red eye.

You stand like you’re in charge. Ames gulped. Let me guess… The sergeant?

The white-haired man licked his lips and stepped forth.

“The wire knows all!” he announced.

His medals became clear and proved Ames’ guess right.

You speak like you’re in charge too, Ames thought, then said, “Good evening, my--”

Extensions flashed under the sergeant's sleeves. As their light faded, his breath crawled up her neck. He’d appeared behind her. She could hear him lick his lips again before he kicked her. She slammed into the floor and scrambled up, heart pounding.

A wire snapped from the ceiling and connected to Ames’ CHEK. Her arms, her legs moved against her will. She fell to the floor. And began doing pushups.

Already punished?! Seriously?! And I don’t even have a clue why!

Ames tried fighting against the influence of that wire in her CHEK, but nothing worked. She gave in, directing her energy to the endless pushups, while the sergeant watched mercilessly. Thoughts zoomed in her head, looking for answers.

Is it because I did something wrong? Is it because I’m a girl? A mastermind? And… When do these damn pushups end?!

Three minutes slowly crawled by. Sweat streamed down every side of Ames’ face, forming into puddles under her, her muscles quivered and refused to bend, and pain struck all her limbs. I’d sell my soul to have a hench’s strength right now--

The sergeant kicked Ames in the side. A kick of encouragement. More pushups. Her body refused it. She would not bend for one more. She could not, even though the wire connected to her CHEK ordered her to keep going.

You thought… You thought the Circle of Chiefs was bad! Ames gasped for a deep breath, holding strong. Getting killed for greeting a man incorrectly? Now that’s bad!

Swiftly, ideas started connecting. Everyone in Wirehaven obsessed about greetings -- why would the zeppelin be any different? Ames raised her head to the sergeant, who had excitedly started getting his belt out. A similar grin took over Ames’ face and she uttered, “The wire knows all…”

“And there is nothing but the service! Good evening, recruit. On your feet.”

Wiping her sweat away, Ames managed to stand up. There was darkness in the corners of her vision. The world swayed and there was no way to know if it was the blimp or her, nearing the verge of death from exhaustion.

“The zeppelin is a different place than where you’re from,” the sergeant said, striding through the cargo bay. “As long as I, Mr. Parris, am in control, two things are guaranteed: order and success. And the first step of those two is a correct greeting.”

“Order and… what success?”

“Mister,” the sergeant enunciated. “Success. Every single person assigns a different meaning to success. Of course, I have my own definition: the completion of the project. The project? The project?! Indeed, the project to reconnect every location with every other location in the world. Success is a new golden era of communication.” He licked his lips.

“But this place… It’s an army, right. Why need an army if we’re just rebuilding the world?”

“Warlords. Creatures. Filthy immigrants. It has to be the responsibility of someone to defend Wirehaven from all of them.” The sergeant was honest and serious. In his world, warlords, creatures and immigrants were the biggest evils to be defeated. And he believed so wholeheartedly. “And have you ever realized that the greatest achievements in ancient history have been completed by militaries? The principle of order. I live by it. And I don’t even live by what my wife says!”

Parris led Ames up a ramp, out of the dark cargo bay and into a floor of enormous engines and building-sized transformers. The engines. It doesn’t take a hench to realize that. In the thick, metal walls stood pillars of laserturrets, aiming outside. Protecting Wirehaven from the skies.

“There are four floors on the zeppelin,” Mr. Parris said, “but to a private, there are three and the third is where you will spend most of your time. In the third you will live. In the third you will learn. And in the third you will obey. You will not go to the floor above unless requested. That is the fourth. Consider it the brains. The center of mass for humanity’s advancement. The part which a private does not have access to and does not need.”

Ames didn’t have long to awe and look at the complex organism of machinery before they reached another ramp and headed up to the third floor. She lost her breath in the middle of the climb and stumbled a little, and the soreness of her muscles overcame her. She hid the pain, biting her lip. Showing weakness to the sergeant was the biggest mistake she could make -- from the way he stood, she could see he wouldn’t take kindly to such things.

They emerged on the third floor and Parris led her down long corridor after corridor, past armories, past a ginormous dining hall and training grounds, to the living quarters.

An army of identical bunk beds stretched into infinity. Hundreds of men and women in identical uniforms occupied the beds.

“This is your quarters. Imagine it’s no different than living in a slum.” Parris laughed, stopping by an unoccupied bed, lined with orange. Every six beds, the color marking them changed. “Every soldier in Wirehaven is your zeplineer. But these five people, those who sleep in orange and don orange patches, these are your legioneers. Meet. Become good friends. Else they might strangle you in your sleep or tie you up and beat you to death.”

Two guys with absent eyes, two with vilanous looks and a single girl--whose gaze remained stuck to the floor since Parris entered--made up Ames’ legion. Ames hadn’t expect greetings or a warm welcome, and she, indeed, got none. Before introducing herself, she inspected the legioneers.

Iperu and Holt were henches--anyone could tell by their looks and mischievous eyes--but their list of brutal physical perks sealed the deal. Iperu had curly hair and the sharp face of a hardened hench. Holt’s brown skin was littered with light wrinkles of middle age. A mustache hung above his mouth and make-up stars glittered atop his bald head.

Ames stayed clear of the two henches and went to her bed.

What type of person can afford make-up and still serve up here? the question danced around her head.

The two bored legioneers went by Gomo and Flier. Both had short, standard army cuts, but orange tattoos covered Gomo’s cheeks and Flier’s neck, distinguishing them from the rest of the zeppelin.

Lastly, Ames’ inspection landed on the girl. Of all, she seemed the most hardened. Like the rest of the legion, she had a few scars and eyes that had seen enough. But an iron-tough aura radiated from her, like an impenetrable shell protecting her from all the evil of the world.

[Error: inspect blocked]

As the notification popped up in her vision, Ames stumbled. Inspect… blocked? This girl wasn’t only hardened on the outside -- she had some metal within, too. Slowly collecting herself, Ames thanked her mastermindian abilities for allowing her to see more of people than others could.

She turned to all her legioneers, addressing each with a quick look.

“Good evening--” she bit her tongue. Oh, right. “The wire knows all.”

“And there is nothing but the service!” They chanted in unison.

“I’m Ames,” she said, then contemplated for a moment, and continued introducing herself “and I come from Realm 224. Really, I’m here because… my family could pass through to Realm 676.”

Cold looks met her words.

You know what? This is not a nice crowd.

[Thou Shalt Listen has succeeded! Manipulating neary beings’ attention and conscience...].

In these situations, you should start with [Thou Shalt Listen]! And if you can, always use your perks. Ames had seen the invisible world of mastermindian manipulation in the gangs of Realm 224 and how a timely placed perk in between words could make a traitor seem like a friend. She would never forget that.

Finally, the expressions of her legioneers changed.

“Great, another idiot in the zeppelin.” Holt greeted her.

“Who cares?” Iperu said at the same time, eyeing Ames.

“You better get workin’, mastermind, ‘cause tiny muscles ain’t doin’ shit.”

Great. Not only where they assholes, but such big ones that perks didn’t work on them. The sergeant cackled from the corner and strutted out of the quarters.

Growling under her breath, Ames set up, putting her most important stuff in the chest under her bed, hiding the cassettes she’d quietly snatched from Tenner and a few hundred creditcoins. Then she changed into her private outfit which waited on her bed--drab gray pants and a tight sand suit with an orange badge of the zeppelin blinding out the sun.

Her frustration faded quickly. Maybe her legioneers were assholes in self-defense? You have to realize when the rules of the game you’re playing change. People can act alien, then. She came to terms with that, but discomfort still itched at her skin -- she didn’t know the rules. And she had to learn, as fast as Blackglove was catching up to her. Then she could become a player, doubtlessly twisting the zeppelin into her palm.

I know the only thing that matters about this place -- I’m not free to choose anymore. I do what I’m told, she thought and a notification popped up in her vision.

[New MANDATORY quest!]

Here we go. Brows furrowed, Ames expanded the notification.

[New zepplineer quest!]

[Objective: Clean the quarters’ floors | Time limit: 600s]

Are you going to train on the day you join the zeplineers? Or will you learn the ropes? Don’t kid yourself -- mopping the floors is your fate. Ames dismissed the quest screen and stared straight ahead, the eyes of her legioneers weighing on her back. There were whispers, too. They’d all gone through this, she realized, and with that thought, got up, scavenging for a mop, which waited in a holder on the wall. As she reached for it, a hand grabbed her neck, slamming her against the wall.

“Friendly tip: beware of the Flying Hunters,” Holt--her bald legioneer with stars atop his head--whispered into her ears. “Wrong too many and you might wake up dead one morning.”

And with those words, Holt disappeared, leaving Ames with chills and a clenched fist, ready to give the lunarist a good knock on the back of the head. She decided against it -- you don’t want to do exactly what you were told would end up killing you.

Ames turned to the mop on the wall and pulled, but the thing didn’t move.

A second later, a hologram appeared.

[Unlock the mop.]

Dancing around the zeplineers, Ames swept the quarters. You don’t notice the janitors in most places until you become the janitor. The work was filthy, disgusting, backaching. And on top of it all, her legion kept cracking jokes about her.

They’re testing you. Don’t forget that.

Behind Ames, the floors were shiny and clean. Muddy and drenched, she looked at the work with satisfaction and… despair. She’d finished only a third. Wondering if there was a way to check the time left, she opened the CHEK. Indeed, a new menu awaited -- [The Zeppelin]

[Rank: Private Floor-Stepper

Experience: 0 days | 0 XP

Anonymous Reputation: 0

Wires connected: 0

Current quest: “Clean the quarters’ floors” | Time left: 247s]

Floor-Stepper? Fucking Floor-Stepper?! Furious, Ames hurried her sweeping, coming close to setting the broom ablaze, cleansing the filth from half of the floor in a minute. Comotion sounded behind. Whatever you’re doing, don’t you dare ruin my floor! Ames remarked and the girl from her legion scrambled past. Four figures chased, cans of sludge in hand. Iperu, Holt, Gomo and Flier. Ames froze. Her heart, deeply, softly, whispered into one ear--help the girl--and reason bluntly blared into the other ear -- keep your head down. Save yourself. The guys gained. Ames’ heart beat louder, her limbs freezing. Suddenly, sneakily, Ames mopped a wet streak across the floor. Two seconds later, two guys slipped and crashed, nose first, into the floor. The others tripped over them and bodies piled up.

Ames hid her mouth with the mop. And chuckled. Then the weight of looks, like the patient beginning of rain in the desolation, dripped onto her shoulders. Again, Ames thought fast: she swept around the groaning bodies and moved on, keeping her head down. I’m not involved in this in any way and you didn’t see me.

She moved on to the last third of the floor. Thankfully, no one paid any attention to her.

Time ran out: 10… 9… 8... Ames shoved the mop into the final corner and… 7… 6… What are you supposed to do now? I’m finished, but the time keeps running out! An idea flashed in her head and she hit the ground running, sweeping zeplineers out of her way. A single second remained. She slammed the mop back into its place. Ames’ eyes lit up.

[MANDATORY quest… succeeded!]

[Reward: 150 LVL EXP; Another fine day to spend between the steel of the zeppelin!]

Ames grabbed her forehead and wiped the sweat away, and stood frozen for a moment to collect herself. She stared at the ceiling. Cold lights--hanging on by thin wires--swung like pendulums from the zeppelin’s endless swaying. It’s like they’re dancing for me, she thought.

Mister Parris loomed right behind her back, the redness of fury seeping into every vein in his face.

You look like you’re about to stab someone. That someone is almost definitely me… But why?!

Holt walked past the sargeant’s back. For a second, he glanced at Ames. His mustache curled, the makeup on the top of his head sparkled and he winked. Then, disappeared into the crowd.

Ah, Ames realized. I intervened in your little game and now you wanna show me who’s in charge. What else can you expect? Stuff like this is going to be happening for a while.

Parris stared at Ames for a minute.

“Privates do not interfere with the plans and actions of Highranks, or in fact, any zeplineers above them. That is the order. Disobeying can be punished with a fall from great, great heights.” Parris paused for a beat. “But I have a soft heart.”

A paralyzing blast of electricity flowed through her bones and she collapsed to the ground. A wire had whipped from the ceiling and connected to her CHEK.

Those goons brought it on themselves! She tried standing up, fighting the buzzing in her system. But every time she moved a centimeter out of the position, a new blast of electricity slammed her down.

Muscles shaking, she began the fifty pushups.

“Don’t miss your training tomorrow morning, private,” Parris said, sauntering away. “In that case, my heart gets hard surprisingly quickly.”

Sargeant! When your heart gets cold and hard… You’ll find it tough to crack mine. It’s been like that for years and it won’t go soft till the day I am called sergeant, till Blackglove is just a memory.