“Hey all you addicts, welcome back to Billy Does Mobile, my second channel where I, uh, do mobile. Because I feel like it. So I've been playing Commandment of Hero and it's been good to me. That's only fair. I've been real good to it, after all. And man I was excited when I heard about the new hero tomorrow, Night Shift Ly . . . ssinia? 'Man, Halloween's coming early,' I thought.

“Well, I was wrong, because she isn't for Halloween, but she's wearing a cute outfit so I'll go ahead and get her. But I'm still so excited, and I hope Theena gets in this year because she's just the best. She reminds me, and a lot of you know what I'm going to say, of Arien from Dungeon Express. I know, I know, I have a type, I get it, OK? I probably would have dropped Dungeon Express Re:Development by now if it weren't for her. Boy that name is a mouthful.”

The alt closet and the Rare closet shared one thing: the word “closet.” The alt closet, designed for storage rather than habitation, extended for the length and width of a basketball arena with a volleyball court added to it and had wood paneling just as nice. No leaks or damaged walls were permitted in there. Neither were chairs or sofas. Rank after rank of silent Super Rares stood terracotta-soldier-like, though some had been leaned against the walls by sloppy workers nobody could prove to be Tramda Olex and Evening Best. A few Ultra Rares dotted the ranks as well.

Nine officers entered. No lock or guard resisted them, since unlike the Armory, no thief could hope to gain anything from the alt closet. Even the garden presented a better target. Why not steal a few moments of relaxation amid pleasant scenery?

“Remember, no freebies. No Winzes, no Minsies, no Youls,” Sindze warned. The four Super Rares that came from completing Story chapters, the six bought with coins from the Trials, and the two Christmas Eclipse SRs had never appeared in the gacha, a fact easy to forget. Some officers left their non-gacha versions in the closet and gallivanted in alt forms, while ones such as Coremel had duplicates sitting around that had been bought from the Trial shop but never used for Fortification by absent-minded players.

“No limiteds either,” added Burmin Trivvis. Surfs Nesetta? Local Fisher? At that time of the year? Unthinkable. Most officers denied to the general pool were Ultra Rares like Night Shift Lynissia, but not all. Every last Rare was made available in every single spotlight for the convenience and enjoyment of the grateful players, of course.

The closet team hauled out SRs through the postern gate to Quille Treten and his ready wagon. Piles rose of spare Domingos and Manyanas, Enid Rosefields and Nonneros Stemptas, Tendradius Puxes and Gradis P. Dorenzes. They avoided Dasher Chris not because he was free like his Dasher Christmas variant or limited, but because he took up so much room in the horsiest fashion. Azalea satisfied the conditions however, as did Inorrea Villeria, Lua DeMereanch, and a Yutak Zvolo that had not yet been sold.

Even excluding the centaurs, packing enough spares on the wagon to cover all the Rares they intended to steal would have been a problem if any of the SRs complained, but they obediently flopped over and let the Rares squeeze them into corners or stack them like thick, clothed pancakes.

“That should suffice,” Hyune Giling announced. If Ulrik resented someone usurping his plan, which he did, the other Rares ignored it. “Burmin, Dennet, Ebulan. Arrange the remaining alts to remove any obvious gaps. Render our tampering not immediately obvious to anyone who might happen to walk in. The rest of us will accompany the wagon.”

“Why us? Not that I'm disagreeing,” Burmin Trivvis said.

“All will become clear, in time.”

“It's clear right now, you fraud! You went alphabetically!”

“How astute of you, T Ramda. Now let us continue with the operation.”

“That's what I wanted to hear. On Dander, on Bludolf!” Quille Treten cracked a whip he did not have and shook the reins, signaling the horses to advance. Hyune and Sindze hopped on beside the inert Super Rares while Reginald, Stan, Tramda, and Ulrik walked beside it in alphabetical order in compliance with their orders.

“It's obvious why we're doing this at night, but I can't help but be nervous,” Reginald said.

“For not a second will Freegate be out of our sight, nor we out of its,” Stan assured him. Nevertheless, fear silenced the Rares as they recalled stories of rollbacks, skill losses, weapon rolls changing from high to low, and strange enemies not intended for release afflicting officers who stayed out late. The legend of the lost Ultra Rare scared no one because of its implausibility, but tales of minor glitches were a different category.

Only the sounds of wheels and non-centaur hooves could be heard, and only the occasional bump disturbed the serenity of the journey toward the beginning of Perandra Regna's great western forest. Sindze U. Radalo and Hyune Giling might have fallen asleep, if some enemy capable of inflicting that condition had been around.

“Where's the party, fellas?” A voice came from the dark, and Quille halted the horses with words no Santa should say while the wagon-riders tumbled out the back and the foot-users tried to scramble in for cover.

A figure appeared in front of the wagon. An officer. An Ultra Rare! Her disheveled brunette hair, unbuttoned black coat, and loose red tie drooping over a shirt pink from non-recommended washing methods all proclaimed Sibyl had discovered them.

“Party? Don't know what a party is,” Quille Treten said while stroking his beard.

“Think that fooled her?” Reginald whispered.

“Not if she hears you, stupid,” Tramda Olex whispered back. “And no. But maybe!”

Hyune stood up, opened his book so he could snap it shut, and took over for Quille. “Not so much where, but when. We found it necessary to remove some clutter temporarily before tomorrow's recruitment.”

“That so,” Sibyl said. She was leaning to the left a bit with her knuckles on her hips in the toughest and sassiest manner imaginable. “I have something to say about that, and I think you're going to listen. As to whether you'll pay attention, I couldn't tell you. I was once in my office in Fanbaran remembering the names of every cow and every flower when ten thousand bucks walked in attached to a dame who deserved a little something extra.

“I took one look and decided all the guys I don't like ought to get to know her better, but a job's a job and I worship my clients like they were Polsom and Haybra. It's just that I pray to Werpt, see? She wanted me to find her long-lost uncle, only it hadn't been that long since he sailed for Fanbaran from Perandra Splendida. Barely long enough to make the delicate sort anxious, and while my client didn't look delicate, she sure was anxious. I figured maybe she'd only turned down twelve offers that day and was still hoping for the Coquette's Dozen.

“I found her uncle all right, except he wasn't her uncle, he was her husband who decided he wasn't the jealous type and could bear to leave her alone in the big city. He had enough money to keep him company. Two shares from the big job in Splendida where a gang lifted a cargo of lusinsboon and broke into a warehouse to hide it there. Whoever thought a little swapping and creative inventory management could take you so far?

“Anyway, my client figured one of those shares was hers for the reason that they all agreed it was beforehand, and I couldn't argue except I thought maybe the lusinsboon's owners could stand to be consulted. That's as may be, but what about the other members? One disappeared into the country to live the boring, humdrum life of someone who got away with everything, and another was picked up when he figured the only thing better than selling a load of lusinsboon is doing the same with werptsboon, which is true mathematically but leaves some things out.

“The strangest story that came out of that business concerned the last member. That guy hitched a ride on a wagon at night to northern Perandra, maybe because the boring life for the newly monied sounded right for him too, but he never made it. A big whale came up out of the Lesser Gulf and swallowed the wagon whole, all the passengers, cargo, and oxen. What a way to end up, huh? So be careful at night, because I bet you're hauling something more valuable than you should be and a whale isn't going to care about your problems. Stay safe and see you later, or as the Doveskans say, see you later.”

The Rares stared at her till their brains almost caught up. “Er, yes, well, thank you, Sybil. See you later too, as they say. On Dander!” Quille drove the wagon with all the Rares on board past the Ultra Rare who was walking toward Freegate.

“So what you think happened with that dame?” Reginald asked.

“That dame's name . . . was Sindze U. owie!” Dennet answered.

The wagon made it to the trees without more URs jumping out and spooking the squeaky little Rares. Quille stopped it in front of Saptres Muria, Clyse, and Vinnette Melban and hopped down along with the others.

“It's over here,” Clyse told them, and led them to a dense thicket that had been dedensified, or as the Doveskans said, thinned, in the center to accept a consignment of inactive officers. The Rares hurried and unloaded the alts. The ominous night was no time for joking, and so Ulrik and Dennet tried to throw each other in the pile only a few times each. They finished, rode the wagon back to Freegate, and stored it just as the login calendar was yawning and wondering if it could just sit around for a few more minutes before traveling to the main hall.