Chapter 6: The Dragonlord

Eight days into the marriage, Lorne and I fought the Dragonlord on a live stream in the middle of the studio atrium.

Eighty thousand people were watching, and the chat was a river.

Lorne had not said a word about the forum since the night he named LootGoblin4.

He had just started quoting my old posts to me at breakfast, with the typos.

That morning it was "Rule nine: never trade the spear," which I wrote at nineteen.

I had eaten my crackers and said nothing, and so had he.

Gus had moved the desks back and laid down yellow tape for the boss's footprint.

Everything the headset showed us, the dragon, the cavern walls and the lava on the floor, sat on top of the real concrete.

It looked very real, and the real part was Gus's tape.

"The rules," Gus said, from behind the camera. "Sunder tanks. Kettle damages. Nobody touches the loot until the boss is down."

"Understood," said Lorne.

"Roxie."

"Understood."

"Roxie, say it out loud."

"I won't touch the loot until the boss is down."

"And when it is down?"

"I'll let go of nothing."

"That's not the rule."

"It's my rule," I said.

The chat sent a hundred little faces.

The fight started badly, and I'll own that.

The Dragonlord dropped a healing potion, a little blue bottle, and I scooped it up with my left hand in the middle of the fight.

"You can drink that," Lorne said, in my ear.

"I'm saving it."

"For what?"

"For a better time."

"The better time is now. You are at six percent."

"I'm holding it," I said, and kept holding it, and died.

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