After leaving the Slayers Guild Nicolai headed for the Trade Link.

It was much busier than the last few times he'd been. The room was heaving, Cyborgs and Cultivators rubbing shoulders as they squeezed to the consoles. Fortunately, this place had a great many more than back in the castle, with no collapse, and the outer walls held consoles too for a second, larger row.

He found a free spot and made his purchases, spending many of the points he'd gained for selling the Yin-Yang Rotation Symbiote.

He bought a new bionic arm from his discounted buy-back list—Level 3, the lower end of high-grade, something he'd be happy with for the long-haul. Since he intended to busy himself building Nodes, including in his arms, he wanted to make sure all the bionics in his body were as good as he could afford. The Level 3 arm, even with his buy-back discount, was 150,000.

He'd sell the Level 2 bionic once it had been removed, and should in fact generate a tidy profit from doing so, considering the buy-back discount he'd bought it for. Bionics designed to be fit onto a human body tended to sell a lot easier than the Cyborg-only kind, which was what he'd gained after taking down those Level 1 Cyborgs way back in the castle. Alas, he'd never found someone up for buying those, though if he'd held onto them until arriving in this place, he knew he'd now have opportunity. Those bionics, and some other things, hadn't fit into his storage.

The thought of the tidy profit he'd gain from selling something purchased at a buy-back discount led his eyes to widen, but a quick check through the buy-back list killed his hopes. His check had revealed something that'd slipped him by previously.

Whenever he bought something from his buy-back list, it disappeared off the list. He could only buy each item a singular time. Still, it remained an efficient if limited money-maker. Whenever he was in a tight spot and in need of quick funds, raiding items he wasn't interested in from his buy-back list then selling them on was a viable option.

That done he bought some additional brain augments.

He wanted to make some more mental space. Now that he had the Phantom City to contend with, he felt it was time to invest in a few new Modules.

He bought a social suite for face tracking and analysing others, along with a legal and contracts analysis implant. He also took a moment to absorb the "shopping list" Memory Disc he'd gained from the Information Guild Person, and found a small number of items listed. Some of them were available from the Trade Link, so he purchased those, too, in good numbers.

He also purchased a squad of HK drones for emergencies, and a number of grenades. He didn't bother with ammo because the Assembler already had patterns and mouldings to make all kinds of common ammo.

Lastly, the Mask poked him and he bought it what it'd asked for—he opted for a bit of a spread; works by Kant, Nietzsche, and Aristotle. After that he purchased a few other odds and bobs for something else he had in mind, and was done. He opened up his portal and quickly headed through, depositing his purchases back at base.

Augments were expensive and he was now down to only 140,000 points, but he'd made good use of the funds.

Now, to his final task. He'd gotten a lot of Symbiotes after killing Hao and his lackeys after the Inheritance. All the rewards. The vast majority of those were ranks of basic Symbiotes like Workers, Defenders, etc, which had quite specific uses. They were involved in reaching Tier 2. As such he intended to keep a good number of them for himself, but not all.

He had five sets, in total, and he could only afford to feed so many—they all consumed Red Grass, which transpired to be quite a bit more expensive out in reality than it had been in the game. He was planning to keep two sets, and the rest could be sold to Cultivators; plus he also had the remaining Tier 2 Symbiote from the bear to sell, and he wanted to sell some of the wild-Symbiotes from the Inheritance, like the Worm Spitters and assorted Crabs.

While bartering he'd hopefully have opportunity to gain food for all the Symbiotes he opted to keep, and to gain the remaining items that were listed for his Black Gift shopping list. Those were mostly more Natural Resources, but there was also a Symbiote. The Symbiote was very common and cheap, fortunately, so should be easy to buy.

Just as with the Trade Link, the Market was much busier than the last time. The whole of the square was crammed with people, and Nicolai paused, gazing out at it. He realised he was grimacing. He disliked being in such a tight press, so surrounded on all sides, bombarded by shouts and sounds, never quite sure as to whether the forgettable people pressed around him might be looking for a chance to knife him in the kidneys. After experiencing such so many times that day, his tolerance was wearing thin.

The Mask soothed him. Last time. He nodded, his eyes wandering idly over the mass of people, over the buildings. Aiming was eyeing the bell towers. The square was flanked by four of them, one on each corner. Good places to put a sniper.

Pointless worries. Here, at least, he should be safe from attacks. But you could never be 100% sure, that was the problem.

He noticed something else, though, while gazing at the towers. Some of the buildings fronting the square had gained signs. In fact, he even saw a few teams of undead, hanging from tendon-like ropes off from roofs, attaching more signs. He saw quite a few of these signs spread over the various buildings, and they all spoke a similar message.

TO RENT. PRICES NEGOTIABLE.

[Talk to the People beneath the green flag pole]

His drones quickly spotted the green flag pole, in a gap between the buildings to one side. He sent one in for a closer look. There were perhaps a dozen People there, all dressed in ornate green robes and looking rather full of themselves. They were accompanied by a number of the typical hulking undead guards—these particular beings formed of four huge limbs that could have come from various species knit somewhat haphazardly to a scarred, headless torso—and most of them were engaged in discussions with humans, Cultivators and Earthborn both. Prospective shopkeepers?

Alas, not a life he had the time for. Though, strangely, Nicolai felt he might quite enjoy spending his days as a merchant.

Once more his eyes caught on the bell towers, and he felt that same pointlessly paranoid concern over snipers. He slid into the crowd as the pressure of those vantages weighed on him, and worked to lose himself in it.

Growing calmer as he squeezed his way through the people, many of whom were bellowing out into the open air whatever they were selling or buying, he reflected that now was the right time for trading. Everyone else had had the same idea as him; their business elsewhere was done, so it was time to trade before the city closed.

The more people, the better his odds of finding someone to buy what he was selling, and someone selling what he was buying. He perked up at the thought, and got to business.

It was easy for him to buy and sell with those from Earth. The Local allowed for rapid and organised trading. People would simply throw their offers out, and others could easily find them. Basic software bundled with your average BIS would filter through all the available offers, forming searchable lists with the ability to rank by price, volume, etc.

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In short time he'd managed to buy some Symbiote food at a good price from other Earthborn. Most of them saw little use for such things and were happy to get something more obviously useful, like points-tags, in return. Some of them recognised him, which transpired to be a benefit.

A few of them laughed, greeted him as the champion, and after Nicolai's best attempt (aided by the Mask) at behaving in a properly personable-champion manner, gave him all the Natural Resources they had for free. Typically, not much, but free stuff was free stuff. Others were a little too excited.

'It's you! You're the guy who melted that cheaters face off!' cried a woman wearing a skinsuit not dissimilar to Nicolai's own. 'Hey, hey, guys, get over here!'

A group of similarly skinsuited individuals turned to look, then their own eyes widened and they flocked over. From their speedy movements, he guessed them to be quite heavily augmented under those skinsuits.

'Cheater?' asked Nicolai distractedly, frowning at all those eager faces coming quick toward him.

'Yeah, the bastard using that thing that turned bullets aside,' she said.

'Imagine using something like that, in a Tournament,' said another in a smooth voice, a long-haired, somewhat feminine looking man. He shook his head, disgusted. 'Something like that should be banned. It's unfair.'

'Right…' It was a good thing they couldn't see Nicolai's eyes under his helmet, as they almost rolled into the back of his skull at hearing yet another group going on about cheating. The Modules mirrored his vague confusion and contempt. Why does everyone call anything that's effective cheating? asked Cyberwarfare, but Nicolai could only give a mental shrug. It made no sense to him, either. If something worked, then it was worth using.

He noted how they were giving him an expectant look, waiting for Nicolai to bark out his agreement.

'I agree,' be barked on cue. He did his best not to drone his next words, but to put a bit of life into them. 'These primitives have no, uh, honour, no code of conduct. Fortunately, I was able to strike a blow for… Earth when I won the Tournament—in spite of their cheating.' He looked back to the woman he'd first approached, some actual eagerness entering his tone. 'According to your listing in the Local you are looking to offload some Natural Resources?'

She nodded. 'That's right. We don't have a use for those ones. Ha, you can have 'em for free if you want, after the show you put on!'

'Hey, hey, first things first, could we get a picture with you?' asked the long-haired man, grinning. It transpired they all were quite eager on the picture. Nicolai wasn't entirely sure about that but the Mask said he had a duty. They're your fans! You need to make a good impression. That's the responsibility of any celebrity.

The idea of being any kind of celebrity did not sit well. Nevertheless, he did want that grass. Nicolai got into position between them.

'Aren't you gonna take the helm off?' asked the woman, frowning at him. 'You look kinda out of place there with the helmet.'

'Ah, but I was wearing the helmet when I won the Tournament,' said Nicolai easily. 'This is the look of the Tournament winner. Trust me, it's better like this.'

A drone snapped the image and they sent the picture to him, and then at last he was able to collect the resources.

After making a quick escape he reviewed the image hesitantly, somewhat unhappy about the whole ordeal. There he was, his arms on the shoulders of the two either side of him—the woman on the left, long haired man on the right. He'd let the Mask take over for that moment, and thus his pose was relaxed and friendly. Looking closer he realised the woman was definitely a little unnecessarily, almost suggestively close to him. The man too, put in the Mask thoughtfully. He looked, somewhat worried, behind him. No sign of them, but he ought to get moving in case his "fans" managed to find him.

'Full tournie ARs! Scroll the lot!' came a cry from nearby, and Nicolai turned to see a tall, skinny cyborg wearing a long white coat, his head studded with camera orbs. He had a spindly extra arm, entirely synthetic, emerging from the back of his left shoulder. It was an overcomplicated affair bristling with wires, sensors, cameras, mics, and projectors, one of whicch was currently projecting a 3d hologram that floated above him. It showed a view of the arena, and Nicolai could see two figures fighting within.

'Every fight from each of the strongest placers, only 30k for the lot! High quality, adware free, good angles—every detail!' yelled the Cyborg, and as he spoke the same words were repeated above, scrolling in a circle around the hologram.

Nicolai headed over, and the Cyborg grinned at him, lowering the arm and dismissing the hologram. His teeth were gold-plated. 'You look a…' he began, only to trail off. 'It's you! You're Nicolai!' He laughed, delighted, then came rapidly forward, hand extended.

Nicolai extended his own, prepared to give a reasonably firm shake, but the man seized his hand in both of his and pumped it up and down enthusiastically

'You'll be wanting to study, eh?' the cyborg enthused. 'See who's using what, see how it all works out! Exciting, isn't it? No one knows how our tech will go against their magic! It's all new! That Silver Net is a nasty business, eh? But you found the counter!' he laughed again. 'How'd you know, how'd you work it out? Everyone's getting lasrguns now!'

Managing to extract his hand, Nicolai felt as though the barrage of words were almost pushing him physically back, but beneath his helmet he couldn't help but smile. This man was more his type. He, too, found it exciting. 'Some past encounters I was fortunate enough to have,' he said. 'Tell me about these recordings.'

'I'm Starz!' said Starz, ignoring the question. 'Starz, purveyor of all things that can be stored in mem!' He grinned wide.

'Starz,' echoed Nicolai tonelessly.

'Tell me, tell me, how effective do you think the lasrguns will remain?' asked the man. 'You're clearly an expert on the subject! Do you think they'll develop a counter?'

Nicolai came to the near instant conclusion that "Starz," already operating as a purveyor of Tournament feeds, had just latched onto an opportunity for a new form of footage: post-Tournament interviews with individuals who placed highly. Since Nicolai was already building a reputation, simply because he wanted to take part in Tournaments, he felt he may as well seek to gain some control over it.

He tapped directly into what he recalled of the media training packets GRECKON gave all of its smarter bots, even ones they didn't anticipate would ever face the public eye, and then gave the Mask more control. It was ever-eager to make a good impression and gain friends, and it gave him the energy he needed.

He laughed his most amiable laugh. 'Not an expert. Some knowledge I was fortunate to know, and a bit of luck, that's all.' He cast a glance around, and altered his body language: suddenly disinterested, busy—places to be. 'I can't stay and chat for long, alas.' He pulled out 30,000 of the mere 140,000 points he had left. 'I'll take the recordings now.'

'Oh, oh, but where are my manners, I do apologise! Sir, if you would be willing to stay and just talk with me for a short while—a few quick questions is all—I'll waive the whole fee. No less than you deserve, as the winner!' Starz chuckled ingratiatingly.

'I suppose I have time for a few quick questions.' He tapped thoughtfully at the chin of his close-fitting helmet. 'A counter to the lasrgun… in truth, it is inevitable that they will. The strength of Symbiotes is variety of effect. They will have something that forms a perfect counter to lasers. The question, really, is how common and easy to find is this counter?'

Starz nodded eagerly. 'And the answer is…?'

'Ask them.' Nicolai gestured to the Cultivators scattered through the crowd.

'Sadly, most of 'em aren't very talkative. I found a few who are friendlier, though, over in the gambling house. I'll have to seek them out! Tell me, what was it like facing down that guy, Jian? Were you worried at all, or did you have it all in hand? From up above, you looked cool and calm as anything!'

'In battle, one must stay calm in face of all that happens,' spouted Nicolai. 'He was a dangerous opponent, but I was fighting for the pride of Earth.' He realised he was starting to get a little more into the act, that the Mask was joining with him as without even thinking he shifted his stance until his body language said: Heroic. With his next words his voice grew firmer, and a part of him viewed himself as though in a movie, on a big screen. 'This world is a great opportunity for us,' he said, regal as a king. 'A chance to do what we always wanted, back on Earth,' he added, pious as a priest. The Mask spoke it all with real feeling, but to Nicolai the words were vague enough he felt they should resonate with just about any viewer, excepting the corpos and media pros who'd see his act for exactly what it was.

'Amazing, fantastic,' rambled his interviewer, doubtless thinking of how very well that line would sell. 'Tell me, do—'

Nicolai cut him off. 'I really do have to go, so I'll be taking those recordings. But, I will say one more thing, since you seem to be such a fan. Here are three random facts about me: I adhere to a strict moral code of conduct, inspired by Latin monks, which forbids dishonesty of any sort. My blood is orange, and poisonous. I have never suffered injury in battle.'

These three "facts," which most would dismiss as total bullshit, were still the kinds of things that would be interesting enough that others would repeat them. They would help to muddy the waters of his reputation.

'Interesting!' Starz seethed. 'Of course, I'll send the recordings over now!'

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