Rec had never played the main character in real life.

  He’d always thought that, maybe, he was cut out for a pleasant recurring character. Someone who could carry a mini arc when the gods of his world had written themselves into a corner, and if he performed consistently, he might or might not be rewarded with a spin-off one day.

  That lane was actually more competitive than one would imagine. A main character was born into the natural endorsement of their universe. They were destined for juicy plot points, enviable abilities, convenient encounters, and a tremendous amount of luck. Even if they were unlikable, they could still get away with it. But if you were merely a tertiary being, you’d have to earn what you were allowed, and you’d have a much lower fault tolerance. Understand your niche and stick to your tropes. Bide your time and don’t fight your destiny. In real life, they called that “self-awareness” when they were being diplomatic, and “know your place” when they wanted to be nasty about it.

  When a new character had just arrived on the scene and it was hard to tell how significant they might be, one strangely effective test was to see if they had been institutionalized in their backstory. That meant they were too dangerous to be left alone, and someone who had received that level of attention probably wouldn’t be a throwaway NPC.

  For example, Sirius Black in Harry Potter, Rorschach in Watchmen, Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs, Alucard in Hellsing—and not to mention that monkey in Journey to the West.

  The point was, prison seemed to be a common shortcut for forging unconventional heroes, and Rec might have gotten one foot in it already, and he was having mixed feelings.

  “What do you mean, you need a lawyer?”

  A steel hand slammed the flimsy wooden table.

  “Just… in the literal sense?” Rec kept his voice steady. People who knew to lawyer up wouldn’t have trembling words. Make eye contact, they said. It helps develop rapport, they said. Well, maybe that only worked on humans.

  The Catahoula Leopard in front of him had the physique of a special forces soldier. Over his mechanical anthropomorphic body, silver armor wrapped around his shoulders and chest. The same emblem that Rec had seen on that Luminar fedora was engraved near his heart.

  “Listen, we can get this over with, or we can do it the hard way.” Leopard thrust his torso across the table and gazed down upon Rec. “You were caught red-handed. A lawyer wouldn’t do you any good.”

  He flicked a glass frame the size of a Polaroid film at Rec. It seemed to be some portable device storing images and video clips, and the square screen was playing looping footage of a single-eared mechanical dog running freely by the river. Rec stared at the clip for a couple of seconds and finally recognized it was the same one he’d seen at the cemetery.

  “I have seen some messed up stuff in this line of work,” Leopard said. “But stealing a corpse is next level.”

  That bastard, Rec clenched his fists.

  He had no idea where Latch and Caesar were right now. He was summoned from the holding cells and sent into this interview room immediately after they booked him. They must have sized all three of them up and decided Rec was the weak link. Unfortunately, they were right about that.

  It wasn’t the army of murder drones that got them.

  When Rec had thought the missile shower was about to bring a premature end to his stay in Wysina, Caesar geared up. The acceleration kicked in instantly. Rec felt an aggressive push from the back of his seat. At full speed, the Jeep snaked forward as the missiles cratered the road around it. Two drones caught the tail of the Jeep with wire ropes and attempted to reel it in. Latch shot one of them to bits and blew off the gun mount on the other. Tugging the rope with both hands and wielding the second drone like a morning star, he swatted three more to the ground before his makeshift weapon broke to pieces.

  Caesar veered the car off the road and charged headlong into the woods. The remaining drones filed into the forest and maneuvered between the tangling branches and leaves. Latch lay flat on his stomach and gripped the base of the Gatling to ride through the bumpy trail, dodging the shards from shattered drones as they crashed into towering pin oaks.

  “Detach!” Latch yelled from the roof.

  Caesar flipped a switch at his fingertips and activated the motorcycle carrier. The clutches on the side of the Jeep extended outward and pushed the bike to a safe distance from the moving car, while the remote ignition system started the two wheels and brought the bike to the same speed. The moment the clutches let go, Latch leaped off the Jeep and straddled his steel horse. Without exchanging another word, Latch and Caesar forked onto two divergent paths, splitting the pursuers behind them.

  Like a fish in water, Latch threaded through the woods, luring the drones into the dark pockets where vein-like branches stitched the space above his head. Caesar turned on navigation, zigzagging across the green blocks on the map. As they ventured deeper into the forest, their surroundings grew dim. Bullets from their tenacious chasers scratched the Jeep and drilled into the muddy ground carpeted by rotten leaves. As Rec felt a wave of carsick coming, Caesar swung a hard left and stepped on the gas, plowing forward like a wild boar, guided only by the mechanical roar under their feet and the wind. The buzz of a different engine came from a distance. In an instant, Latch burst out of the shades, charging toward the Jeep. The two vehicles brushed by each other as the pursuing drones collided above, making underwhelming fireworks.

  Following the last rays of the sinking sun, the Jeep darted out of the woods and found the road again. Meanwhile, Latch continued to ride along the forest path on the dirt mound in parallel. As Rec let out the breath he’d been holding, a brief yet piercing siren jolted his heart to his throat, while the flashing lights in the distance blurred his eyes. In the center of the road parked two patrol cars. The halo of the police lights illuminated four basketball player-sized figures and the colossal gate behind them. Maybe because the night was settling in, the road beyond the gate was invisible, as if tucked into another dimension—no, not just the road, the seemingly open gate formed an opaque barrier, beyond which there was nothing but blunt emptiness.

  Rec assumed they would simply make a run at the gate. After all, the other side only had four pairs of hands—six, if assuming the cars could turn into giant fighting robots at some point. That wasn’t even enough force to break a proper bar fight on Paddy’s Day.

  Yet the Jeep slowed down, hesitantly gliding forward.

  “Fuck, Blind Gate,” Caesar cursed.

  “What’s a Blind Gate?” asked Rec.

  Caesar clenched his jaw and started a U turn. Meanwhile, on the edge of the woods, Latch sped up and continued charging along.

  “What are you doing?!” Caesar yelled as he braked the car to a halt.

  Closer to the gate, the dirt mound rose to two stories high. Keeping his body low and his front wheel straight, Latch catapulted off the mound, flying over the patrol cars and toward the exit.

  But he didn’t get far. An invisible web caught him midair. Electrical pulses spread from where the bike met the net, tracing out faint vein-like patterns. Latch killed the engine and remained glued to the net. He slowly raised his arms and gave his back a good stretch, then held his hands above his head in surrender.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Witnessing this in shock, Caesar and Rec forgot to run. By the time they came to their senses, those flashing police lights had locked them in a blinding circle.

  “What do you mean, ‘corpse’?” Rec asked.

  Leopard raised an eyebrow, then pressed on.

  “Don’t fuck with me. You extracted the remains of Wysinian WM2203A-1 and took her out of the vault. Which part don’t you understand?”

  “The… concept of death, for starters?” Rec was yelling at himself to shut up in his mind, but words continued to flow out along the stream of panic. “Isn’t that against the whole point of virtualizing your life? That you practically live forever? And why would anyone steal a corpse here? It’s not like you can take the organs—”

  He stopped as Leopard was giving him a stern once-over.

  “Where are you from?” Leopard asked.

  “He’s one of those. No registration.” His partner uttered her first line since the interview had begun and passed over a tablet showing the basic information they’d scanned out of Rec at the time of arrest. Her body incorporated the idea of a standard android from every average 90s sci-fi movie. The single camera on the front of the metal cone she had for a head examined Rec, a cold glint flashing across its lens.

  Leopard’s face hardened, and he pushed a low growl through his teeth.

  “Great, more of them,” he barked. “These crafty No Numbers think they can get ahead by gaming the system. They ruin the trust in our society and flood our streets with crimes, just because they think they’re better than what they’re born into! You know what? I now have reason to believe you’re involved with the skin smuggling gang Kroneo. That’s how you got this abomination for a face, isn’t it? Where do you operate? Who do you report to? Spill it!”

  “I really have no idea what you’re talking—”

  Before Rec could finish, Leopard reached across the table and grabbed his collar, then he paused there and gave Conehead a look. She gathered her stuff and stepped out of the room without a word, closing the door behind her.

  “I’m not gonna rot in traffic control for the rest of my life,” Leopard sneered and breathed down Rec’s neck. “You guys crossed my path for a reason. Twenty years—twenty years wasted in this rural hellhole with nothing but ghosts. I’ve done my time, and you are my ticket out, No Number.”

  He heaved Rec up with one hand. Having his wrists restrained to the armrests of the chair, Rec was suspended in an awkward position between sitting and standing. Leopard’s free arm bloomed like a lotus from the elbow, then morphed into a sword, pointing at Rec’s forehead.

  “We don’t see your kind often around here. Let’s open this skull up and see how different you look on the inside, shall we?”

  Rec yanked his head backward as far as he could, to the extent he was about to break his neck. Leopard’s blade was close enough to slice his lashes off. Rec squeezed his eyes shut as a scream rose to the tip of his tongue.

  Glitch Unlocked: Location Slip

  [Skip within a radius of 20 meters. Luck consumption: 1 pt.]

  The instant he heard the system alert, his collar loosened up and he was sitting down again. Rec opened his eyes and found himself on the other side of the room, still strapped to the chair but now behind Leopard. Leopard stared at his empty hand in bewilderment, then swiveled his head, finally spotting Rec when he turned around.

  “You…” he opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words. After a moment of shared silence, rage replaced surprise and darkened Leopard’s face.

  “You!” he growled and pounced on Rec.

  Right then, Conehead barged in.

  “Th-The holding cells!” she panted. “The gates short-circuited. They all got out! The gray hair too.”

  As she spoke, a group of Luminar agents rushed past the interview room and down the corridor. Leopard cursed under his breath and retracted his blade. He left Rec with a glare and told Conehead to keep an eye on this one, then darted out to join the chase.

  Conehead came near Rec and stared at him in a way that made his skin crawl. As Rec forced half a smile, she reached over and unlocked his restraints with a wave of her hand.

  “Run. You want me to carry you?”

  Those words came out in Latch’s voice. Before Rec could react, the real Latch poked his head in. After confirming they were alone, he sauntered in and removed something from the back of Conehead’s neck—a mechanical ladybug. Conehead stood motionless, her arms and head drooping, like a freshly unboxed machine waiting to be activated. Latch strode out the door and beckoned Rec to follow.

  They ran in the opposite direction from the Luminars, passed the empty holding cells, and arrived at an open window overlooking the back alley. Caesar and the Jeep were waiting underneath, and Latch and Rec jumped into the car through the sunroof. Splayed along the backseat, Latch let out a hearty laugh at himself.

  “It’s so much easier to breach the penitentiary system from inside their network. Silly me—could’ve saved all that agony pulling my hair out for a way in.”

  “What do you… did you get arrested on purpose?” Rec’s eyes widened.

  A loud bang came from the top of the car, as if a boulder had crashed down on them. The next second, a sword punched through the roof.

  “Damn!” Latch exclaimed.

  “Where do you think you’re going, No Number?” Dangling from the top, Leopard thrust his arm through the window and grabbed at Rec’s throat. In front of the vehicle, a swarm of Luminars were corking the exit.

  “This is why I can’t get insurance anymore,” Caesar sighed and hit the gas, flipping Leopard off the roof and forcing a path ahead. Several agents attempted to stop them, then quickly gave up after a brave one was shoved into the wall. Leopard got back on his feet and lunged at the car, missing its rear by a scratch. The Jeep squeezed its way out of the alley and slithered onto the main road.

  They fled District 28 and headed north. Night had befallen Wysina. The streetlights glowed like stars discarded by the universe. Stroke by stroke, the heavy makeup of a sleepless megalopolis emerged as they got closer to the inner city. Latch opened the sunroof and stuck his torso out, spreading his arms wide as if embracing an incoming wave.

  “Another day, still alive!”

  He laughed with abandon at the inky sky and the middle fingers from random Wysinians roaming past them. Amid the traffic and his new friend’s guffaws, Rec heard a system alert in his mind—

  Complexity +10

  Tenacity +20

  Level Up!

  Current Level: 2

  Their destination sat on the fringe of the Wysina region named “Overflow,” which included D19 to D32 from an administrative perspective. Wide roads curved along small hills, flanked by busy stores converted from old warehouses. The industrial exterior and the occasional bold graffiti gave the neighborhood a wild aesthetic. They parked near a pharmacy. Across the street stood a three-story building with brick walls and two rows of high windows. Bright orange lights spilled through the crystal glass, hinting at the good time inside. Above the entrance, “Wasure” was printed in block letters.

  “C’mon,” Latch patted Rec on the back and led the way. “Happy hour till nine.”

  “Wait… you kidding me?” Rec said. “We’re getting drinks? Now?”

  “Why not? It’s still your first day. Let’s celebrate.”

  “What if the cops get to us?”

  “Not in D19, they won’t. Those guys are traffic control. We’re outside their jurisdiction.”

  Rec felt dizzy. He’d spent less than twelve hours in Wysina, and so far he’d been shot in the head, attacked by a drone, locked inside his mind, attacked by more drones, escaped a military-grade missile shower, almost got killed by an anthropomorphic dog, and now, he’d probably gotten on all the watchlists he could possibly be put on.

  A drink was exactly what he needed.

  As they crossed the street, Rec walked alongside Latch and peeked at his expression. Latch was still riding the high spirits, so Rec asked:

  “This core in me… who is it?”

  Latch stopped in the middle of the road and looked Rec in the eye, ignoring the cars brushing them by and the insults the inconvenienced drivers hurled over. His lips were curved, but his smile didn’t catch up until a second later.

  “How would I know?” he laughed. “I found it somewhere.”