“Hey guys, Fomalhaut07 here with a quick video to address something I've been hearing, we've all been hearing, about Moon Nonneros and whether the devs nerfed him out of nowhere. In the first place, it's hard to believe they would do that, so you should be skeptical, and in the second place, skepticism isn't everything, right? So I did some testing, and I can assure you he's untouched. DPS the same, tanking the same, like, look at these clips I made. The one on the left is from a couple months ago and the right one is this week, OK? And you'll see we're clearing just as fast, but his animations do look off somehow. I'm not sure . . . I can't test it on other phones and stuff right now, but maybe that's it? Anyway, I can confirm it's just visual if it's anything, so wait for when they get around to fixing it. I mean, don't wait to play, just wait to worry. Fomalhaut out.”

The problem with advertising is that people are allowed to do it. So it was that the average officer might see unsightly posters tacked up on a wall here or a signpost there that presented selections of Cloton Zvolo social media posts along with the engagement they received. Well, what of it? Was the officer who viewed that supposed to be upset about her lower numbers? She was, but tearing that poster down just revealed glamour shots of Marileanna, and behind that, a promotional poster for the upcoming Cadmos Unplugged album.

She reached out for that as well, driven by curiosity rather than any antipathy toward acoustic guitar or Cadmos, but a voice halted her. “You'll be late for the meeting if you try to get them all. In fact, you'll probably still be at it when night falls and the glitches come to gobble up disobedient little summer SRs,” Hyl DeMereanch warned on his way past.

“Oh well.” Local Fisher pranced off to the stately headquarters of Team Takedown. It simply would not do for it not to be stately, according to Darlotte Glofal, however much her underlings wanted to emphasize other aspects of her character such as the way she threw dudes across the stage. Wooden furniture, a gramophone borrowed from Fields of Steam playing a baroque recording purchased from Furious Galaxy, and an emphasis on calm deportment unless you had been slighted in some way distinguished that particular clubhouse from the others. Except for that last point.

The meeting that day dealt with an important matter. Team Takedown realized that while it had set the highest standards as far as the decorations and the code of conduct for its members, it had neglected to figure out how Darlotte Glofal should train. “How, um, ghastly,” Stan consulted a dictionary to say.

“Since you say so in that manner, we must make it our aim to correct it,” Darlotte allowed, and there they were.

The proceedings began when Local Fisher entered. “I'm here! Start! But do it dignifiedly.” She peeked at Darlotte Glofal, saw no gathering clouds, and smiled in relief.

Uamna put forth for consideration the initial decision upon which any others depended, much as when players must decide which mobile game to play before they look up reroll tier lists for it. “So do we go with the grappling thing or try to pervert it?”

Darlotte clenched her bag tight in alarm. “Oh! I firmly forbid any perverting, either in my moveset or anywhere else visible!”

King Ostros leaned over and whispered, “Very cleverly done if that was your intent, Uamna.”

“It wasn't. Is this how persuasion works? Wow.” She left off from whispering and said, “Next, power, speed, precision, pomp, what are we going . . . wait. For what are we going for? No, that's not it.”

Darlotte sighed. “The attempt is appreciated. Well. I look forward to everyone's contributions, but it seems as adamant as an Imperia Tomb Warden that the power part ought to be reserved for Warlord Dorenz. There must be distinctions between our spinoff's wrestlers, and for me to appropriate another's niche would be unconscionably discourteous.”

“Not power, eh? How about this?” Stan swept up all the pictures of Darlotte Glofal dressed in various outfits from the fireplace mantle and threw them across the room to the horror of all the onlookers. They stared transfixed either at the pictures or at the subject herself, ready to duck or jump through a window and never stop running. That would be an appropriation of Evening Best's niche though, and therefore not to be countenanced. Fortunately they were saved from violating either etiquette or their survival instincts when the entire set of photographs landed in a perfect line on the mantle of the fireplace across from the original, those being two of six total in that one room. Team Takedown's bungalow would be the place to be come Christmas.

Darlotte Glofal clapped once, Quille Treten and Uamna clapped rather more, Local Fisher and Hyl DeMereanch nodded approvingly, and King Ostros put on his sunglasses before lowering them in such a way that his eyes looked above the frame. “Would that style be satisfactory?” Stan asked.

“Certainly that was a lovelier display than that awful 'piledriver,' I believe it was called.” Darlotte Glofal took a moment to shudder all the way up and down. “Come, tell us how one learns such a skill, from top to bottom and soup to nuts. Don't neglect a single detail. Come. Now. Tell me now. Hurry up!”

Stan backed away from the advancing Darlotte, explaining as he went. “I hate even to bring it up in these surroundings, but all of us belonging to a certain rarity picked up a couple of tricks after a few years of setting tables. For a higher rarity, well, a few weeks shouldn't be too much or too little.”

“Are you suggesting I must lower myself to perform a silver's duties? Oh no!” Darlotte Glofal wrung her hands for a moment before she considered wringing somebody's neck instead. She looked around but discovered none that deserved it according to her evaluation. As for her own neck, well, perhaps she had over-catastrophized the situation. She gave up on the wringing and formed two fists instead. “But if I concentrate on the enjoyment all those millions of players will have if we fighters exhibit such entertaining techniques, how can I back down? I cannot.”

“Doubt it'll sell that many copies,” Quille Treten observed.

“Unless we get this just right!” Local Fisher's response opened Quille's eyes to the glory of summer optimism.

“Christmas is more to my liking, but a little open-mindedness isn't wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

Quille stroked his beard and reflected. “Seasons. Now then, where are the plates?” He and Stan gathered up all the plates, bowls, cups, utensils, and napkins in the bungalow at a speed possible only for those who mentally registered the location of all such items in every building they entered without the need for conscious thought, a habit driven into their very muscles and bone by the harsh lessons of a world divided by rarity. They piled up the assortment on a mantle, cleared the room of all furniture save for a single table, and drew a box on the floor.

“Here's the there, if you'll excuse the expression. Set the table without stepping the least of you littler toes outside the lines.”

Darlotte Glofal approached the box, flicked Stan's forehead for saying “littler,” took up a plate, and turned. She bent a bit with her left side toward the table while her right hand glided back and forth as if to create a path between the plate it held and the table by some magical principle.

“One, two . . . five . . . Enk!” The disk flew forward and smashed against the far wall, no longer a plate but a hazard for feet worthy of inclusion in a ninja's arsenal. “Poo! Another one!” Another smash hit. Even Serdon Miloz might have been amazed. “Next!” Third time is the charm, they say, and the shards of the glass indeed tinkled charmingly as they dropped to the floorboards. “Argh!” That one hit the table and skidded off like an F-14 in the hands of someone who tries the landing sequences in T** G** for the N******* E************ S***** and refuses to refer to the instructions at the bottom of the screen.

“This might run us up a bit of a bill,” Stan said. The others nodded.

“Back to Vigilant Patrol!”

“I wouldn't mind that, Local Fisher.” Uamna brought out her Gear Set Compendium (Revised). “I hope they expand the available stages soon. The old sets are a bit boring. Hey, that spoon's staying on the . . . never mind.”