Play Test: Stuck in Another World as a Reality TV Contestant

The upstairs of Garibaldi's Couturier, est. 1896, smelled of wood polish, sandalwood, and the indescribable remnants from a century's worth of cologne spritzes. It was a manly place for manly men like me, as the little Italian assigned to me had told me multiple times in the brief time I'd been here.

I handed my t-shirt to Cavalcante Garavaglia, who sneered at the cloth. According to the tailor, a princely fellow like me should dress like an aristocrat at all times. It was a sin against God and an insult to nine generations of Milanese tailors that he should have to look upon me in such trash.

"You can burn it if you'd like, Cavalcante," I said, finding the man deeply entertaining for reasons he would assuredly scowl at me for.

"I would like! Guiseppe, throw this in the fire!"

Cavalcante threw the balled-up shirt with force at his grandson and apprentice. Joey, as he'd introduced himself to me, gave me a startled look to check if I was serious. At my smile, he started to shuffle awkwardly away.

"Si, Nonno."

That left only the tailor and me in the room. Cory was with the girls, taking them to a few boutiques and a salon, swiping his card for them as they got ready. I pulled the platinum nunchucks out from where they'd been stashed away under my Sash and threw them onto a chair nearby, putting my finger to my lips in the universal 'shh' symbol. A tight nightclub environment was the perfect place to finally test out the Platinum Nunchaku.

Cavalcante shook his head furiously. "No, no 'shh', no 'shh'. You see, gaze!" He pulled his shirt up from where it was tucked into his pinstripe trousers, revealing a small pistol in a holster at his side, and then turned around to show me a thin, long dagger in the small of his back. The weapons appeared to disappear as he tucked the shirt back in.

"Woah. That's crazy. Can I?" I reached my hand out, asking permission to pat the space where I knew his holster would be. Cavalcante nodded, smirking with pride. I touched him gingerly; I could feel the gun and even trace the outline of its handle, but I couldn't see it at all.

The tailor preened. "It is a trick of the eyes – a trade secret. Garibaldi, he only hire the best, Master Li! As you are a top-class gladiatore, I, Cavalcante Garavaglia, am a top-class tailor. Tell me where you prefer to keep your weapon, and I shall," he snapped his fingers, "make it vanish! Presto! And then, you shall promise your friend Cavalcante that you will never again wear this horrible t-shirt sweatpant travesty outside your exercise time."

I laughed. "Maybe when I can afford a Cavalcante Garavaglia wardrobe. But I can definitely say I'll be wearing them less."

"It will do for now. Your associate, Mr. Ning, has paid for two outfits, fully-insured for life, so that you may still dress sensibly if one is damaged. As you grow accustomed to their style, comfort, and grace, you shall return for more. Of this, I have no doubt."

Two bespoke outfits from a tailor of preternatural skill would have cost a small fortune on their own, but to fully insure them was something else entirely. I assumed that meant I could bring them back in tatters and still be good, something I don't think Garibaldi's would have agreed to if they had a full account of my last week. It stung my pride to let Cory gift me the clothes, especially with his dirty money, but they looked super cool and useful, and I really wanted them, so…

Look at this way, James, I told myself, as long as you don't let the gift impact how you treat the Cranes tonight, it's kind of like you robbed them. And you'd be fine with that, wouldn't you?

Good point, me, I would be fine with that.

Three hours later, I was, in fact, dripped out. Cavalcante had made me a formal, three-piece black suit with a matte black vest, cream white shirt, matching white jade cufflinks, and a tie in the same black and gold as my Sash. The tones were understated, but the brass buttons added a little flair, and the cut was immaculate. I would have looked good in anything, but, goddamn, was I fine as hell in this. You couldn't tell at all that there was a pair of nunchucks at the small of my back either. I'd tried to convince Cavalcante to let me watch him work to figure out how he did it, but he'd shouted about trade secrets and made me wait downstairs. Watching the twin bumps of the Nunchaku disappear blew my mind. I was biased, but somehow, martial artists learning to break physics by training hard made more sense than tailors doing the same. There it was, though - something to watch out for in the future. You couldn't underestimate anyone in this universe.

The other outfit was something that Cavalcante told me was to be worn when I was 'out-on-the-town' during the day or playing tennis. Guiseppe, aka Joey, was currently hand-delivering it to Kas's house in Riverside for me. If they made a target of Kas's place, they'd either find an empty home or a more than likely inebriated and pissed Combo Kahn. A business like Garibaldi's had probably done enough orders for various mobs over the years to be trustworthy and tight-lipped, but I wasn't risking it. Even if Joey didn't rat out where I lived, the Cranes knew I would be getting multiple outfits today; who was to say they hadn't put someone in the crowd outside to follow him to his destination?

Cavalcante, after making his employers many tens of thousands of dollars tonight, had stayed long after the sun had set and waited with me for Cory. We were playing backgammon and sipping port, listening to the familiar sounds of the Black Harbor Gulls losing yet another baseball game on the radio when he and the girls returned. The three froze when I stood up.

"Bro, what the actual fuck?" said Cory, laughing. "You don't even look real, homie. Like the world's worst wingman, namsayin'?"

Jewel meanwhile looked at me like a hungry lioness, literally licking her lips. She and Edie had likewise leveled up, reminding me of the power of makeup and a professional hairstylist. They were in little black dresses that hugged and accentuated their curves. Both wore heels, but Edie's were about half the size of her partners; not only was she naturally taller, but she was distinctly less comfortable in the shoes than Jewel, who probably could have run a marathon in her stilettos.

Edith Mann looked out-of-sorts in general, I thought. She had walked in confidently, smiling and laughing at something Jewel had said, but had clammed up on seeing me. Was she nervous about her mission or self-conscious about her appearance? Either worked in my favor for the burgeoning 'reverse-honeypot' plan I was putting together, but I'd feel less like an asshole if it was the first. I didn't think I could take advantage of the latter in all honesty, as crazy as that may sound. Sure, I was a walking psychic hazard due to all of my Social Feats, but I had excuses for those. Actively being a dick to girl over her looks felt like crossing a line. It was silly, perhaps irresponsible considering the stakes, but a guy's got to have some principles at the end of the day.

"God, James, I'm going to need a towel for the limo seat. I'm dripping, honey," said Jewel, as shameless as ever. She made an X with her arms. "It's officially illegal for you to go back to wearing shabby gymrat clothes. We're burning everything you have at the end of the night."

Cavalcante crinkled his nose. "Young lady, that was foul. Though I agree with your sentiment regarding Master Li's fashion, I must ask you to wait outside. This is an establishment for gentlemen."

"Everyone's a gentleman until they get a taste of me, old man. But, fine, whatever. Come on, Edie. I need to dry off anyway."

Cory had left a suit here that he'd dropped off for a repair, and changed into it in front of the standing mirror in the corner. His muscles were considerably more defined since we'd last played beach volleyball two years ago, and there was a new scar on his side from what could only have been a bullet.

"Bounced off your rib, huh?" I said, making a casual remark.

Cory looked down at the injury surprised, as if he'd forgotten it was there. "Oh yeah, we ain't chilled like that in a minute." He clicked his tongue and shrugged. "Caught a stray. Is what it is. Good wakeup call a'least – got my ass in the gym right after. Like for real though, standing on bricks in horse stance and shit, you feel me?"

"All those years trying to get you into the martial arts and I could have just shot your ass." I shook my head. "How long was the recovery?"

He gave me the old, patented 'check this shit' Cory Ning smirk that preceded all of his most insane statements. "Bro, no lie, they had me doing jumping jacks the next day. I conked out for a good twelve hours and woke up stronger than ever. Like, for real though, stronger, faster, all o' that – sum'n about Qi or sum'n like that. We on some shit, James. Hunan got it goin' on."

"That right? Guess I don't have to hold back if I ever need to beat your ass."

Cory took it in stride. "Shit, be insulted if you did."

The limo was an armored black SUV with a privacy wall and its seats rearranged to face each other, as well as a few other amenities like a humidor and a freshly stocked refrigerator. It was also, annoyingly, being driven by another old friend, Drake Lu, Cory's cousin. I had nothing against the guy—frankly, I liked him better than his cousin—but these constant reminders of how many connections I had to the Cranes were beginning to chafe. They were really complicating my approach to this whole greater Triad situation. Cory was obviously leveraging old friendships to make me more pliable to the Cranes' proposals or at least less likely to enter into open conflict with them. Unfortunately for me, that was, if not a winning strategy, then a very strong one.

Alright, Alan, we're going to be relying on you pretty heavily for this one, big dog.

I got a silent but hearty thumbs up from that aspect of my psyche.

We are the Three-in-One, the Empty-Headed God.

Jewel sat on my right thigh, patting my left and making room for Edith to join her. The blonde did so with a nervous smile, her confidence more clearly a veneer as we approached the Kingfisher. She had the same tense, anticipatory air that both Maki and I had been emanating at Tamaki Grill prior to the Exorcism. If I had to guess, she had been given some task related to me, probably something simple like 'make sure he leaves with you tonight', and was starting to feel the pressure. That made more sense than her worrying about her looks; Edith was only plain in the 'cast as the plain girl in a movie' sort of way, which was to say, not plain at all by the standards of Alan's Earth.

"You ever think about stripping and escort work, James?" asked Jewel, 'accidentally' bumping my package with her thigh as she did.

"Not really, pretty committed to this acting thing."

"You can do both – I make doctor money and only work, like, sixteen hours a week, max. The prudes are totally out too, now that they're getting rid of obscenity laws. Jersey's first, but it's only a matter of time before it goes federal. Hollywood's about to get way dirtier. You'd be ahead of the curve with some sex work in your portfolio."

How interesting, last I checked that news was gatekept behind Dark Media, as Kas called it, and tens of thousands of dollars. Jewel was setting the tone by casually dropping the info, probably probing me as well.

"Huh," I said blankly before faking a sudden idea. "You know, I'd bet you'd feel a lot safer as an escort if you started training with me in my new style. If you've been stripping regularly, then you've definitely got the physique to keep up."

"Cory vets all of my clients beforehand, gets me the best time slots at the clubs too. Thanks, bae," she blew him a kiss.

"Got you, fam."

"I do like the idea of getting all sweaty with you and that redhead of yours, though. Let me think on it."

I ignored her hand drifting along my outer thigh. "Sure, it's a standing invite. You've got my number."

"Thanks, James. Do I get to join in on all the heart-pounding, sweat-dripping workouts?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "And will I have to run around doing heroics? Because that's very not my style."

I chuckled. "Whatever you're comfortable with, Jewel."

"How's it work, being a modern day youxia?" The question spilled out of Edith, as though it had been aching to be released. "I mean," she added, blushing slightly, "I didn't think they were even a thing outside stories."

Jewel shot her ally a sharp look; no one had mentioned the word specifically, and the way Edie asked her question confirmed that they'd recently filled her in on me. Jewel chimed in to cover for her friend, "Yeah, tell us about fighting a Demon and burning down that warehouse on Bell Street. We've all been dying to ask about it anyway."

"Woah, burning down a what?" I said, not even bothering to try and disguise the lie. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about, but I was for sure jorkin' it whenever whatever that was happened."

"Two-hand cranking it to Swan Lake, I assume?" teased Jewel.

"Yeah, exactly. As for being a youxia, it's simple. Decent people come to me with their problems, and then I go beat up the problems. You three best keep that in mind." I added, letting a little of my battle aura escape through the Happy Idiot.

The girls froze, their breaths hitching, but Cory laughed and waved off the threat. "No shit, bruh. Same as it was in high school. I ain't even trying to think you could be coming for me. You had me giving stern warnings to bullies back in the day. I said, 'Knock that shit off! Don't you know who fucking goes here, dummy?'"

I let Cory lead the conversation from there and relied on jokes and half-truths to avoid anything serious. For instance, when he asked if I had fought my mother earlier in the day, I dismissed it with a, "Just some family drama. You know how Ma gets." No self-respecting social butterfly, even one as ostensibly dumb as Cory, would dare push further on that. Not that I was fully bought into this idiot, wannabe gangster act of his. From one himbo to another, game recognized game.

My mind turned instead towards the reverse honeypot I was working. The plan was simple, I would rely on the Happy Idiot and my Feat Charmingly Thick to drive the girls crazy. The former made it impossible to read my intent, and the latter would make my seeming disinterest in treating them as more than friends all the more tantalizing. If they thought getting done up and throwing themselves at a harem protagonist was enough seduce one, then they weren't familiar with the genre. I needed to switch this around on them, gain some leverage to exploit for information and favors. If Jewel and Edie left tonight with a personal and professional longing, nay, need to see me again, then I'd have two strings to pull on to start unraveling the Cranes.

I held Edie's hand in my own, hers dainty in my large, calloused mitt, and rested my chin on her shoulder. It was maybe overly friendly or outright romantic from an outside perspective, but ultimately chaste. My other arm was wrapped around Jewel's abdomen, keeping her still and comfortable in her position as we rode through Black Harbor's bumpy streets. I had to split my Dice Pool to titillate them both simultaneously, 12 to Edie, and 12 to Jewel, but that was more than enough for two untrained mortals.

The human body is an intricately connected web of tissues that all pull on and affect one another; anyone who's relieved back pain by stretching out their hamstrings can attest to that. But to me, a master of the Martial and Marital Arts, those tendons and muscle fibers were like strings on a fine instrument in which I was a peerless virtuoso. I began to play my sonata, getting eleven Successes on Edith, and only three on Jewel after all bonuses were applied.

That was fine. Jewel was an old friend; I could find excuses for further interactions with her. My fingers danced across her ribs, undoing some of the tension in her obliques by targeting the micro-knots, and pulled her down onto my leg in time with the car's bounces. If she had asked, I would have told her I was only stopping her from falling off, but she didn't ask. Had it not been for the Happy Idiot, Jewel likely would have seen through me, three Successes far from enough to fool the skilled temptress. But as it was, she had to settle for giving me playful, scrying looks every time Drake hit a pothole or accelerated sharply to catch a yellow light.

Edie was my real target tonight, so I was glad to have excelled on her. I had a lot of questions about HuaGen, what her work was, and how she had ended up trying to seduce me tonight, and very few ins with her. Luckily, if this wasn't enough to get her to come crawling to me after tonight, the experience would at least stick in her mind. I had done so well that I was discovering new pressure points on the hand in the course of the car ride. I worked my way down her thumb, striking points five at a time; there was a meridian there that responded to her breathing, and I used it to flood her body with oxygen without her conscious recognition. From there, I played erotic havoc on her wrist, finding a point between the tendons that when pressed with precise force, sent blood rushing to her core and sex, and another to its side that had her nipples throbbing, looking painful in the outline of her black dress.

She stumbled out of the car behind me when Drake dropped us off in front of the new Kingfisher Restaurant and Club, clinging to my arm for balance and a another, more desperate need. Jewel gave us both a knowing look but let it go unaddressed, taking my other arm.

The Kingfisher was in a prime location in The Heart, the only neighborhood to cut across the river, straddling the Beagle at its narrowest point. Named for the broad outline it took on a map, The Heart mirrored the densest parts of Manhattan except without the more sensible/boring grid layout of New York. It was a sprawl, a maze of high rises and skyscrapers, somehow both abjectly miserable to live in and the home of the city's most expensive real estate.

The Cranes had built themselves an ideal fortress, buying out a corner along two of the neighborhood's wider streets and the land immediately next to it, putting up a beautiful six story glass-and-metal architectural statement piece and a private parking garage. To the other side was a high-rise apartment building that I was sure they had bought at least the majority of, and a tangle of alleyways to its rear. In total, this aggressive expansion of theirs into downtown had to cost at minimum one hundred million dollars. Crime paid well in Black Harbor.

Fuckers. I resolved to rob criminals more often.

"Damn, people are already lining up? Nightclub don't open for another hour." said Cory. There was a long line of wealthy club goers in their finest black-tie attire behind a velvet rope that stretched around the corner of the building. The nightclub entrance must have been alley-facing. "It's going to be poppin' tonight."

He turned to me, walking backwards as he led the way towards the front restaurant entrance. "Let's get it, James. Dinner's on the house and don't know about you, but I'm trying to take advantage, baby. Get me some lobster, sample the espresso martinis, have me a dessert or two. I hope you ain't gonna duck and be all proper about your diet and shit tonight."

It looked like my behavior at Tamaki Grille hadn't spread outside of Little Tokyo. I was sure he would have quipped about it otherwise.

"Buddy, you have no idea." Let the robbing commence.

Cory was already familiar with the building's layout and the operation in general. He took us past a crowded waiting section decorated with expensive modern sculptures and paintings of brilliant birds to a private elevator behind the host's desk, saying hello and making jokes to the staff as he did.

"First floor is the café, open kitchen, and the bakery; second, third, and fourth are all the restaurant proper. But," he said, switching to an abominable British accent, "the fifth and sixth are where esteemed guests, such as your badass self, sir, are treated to the finest of hospitality."

"Neat. We're going to want a table with some room, by the way."

"Huh? Alright, sure. I can make that happen."

If I hadn't been submerged in the Happy Idiot, I might have found it depressing how many of the people on the sixth floor I recognized. These were a mix of the wealthy of Chinatown, using the connections they built amongst the Cranes' network to their advantage, and middle-class business owners, likely being treated by the Triads for their years of protection payments and favors. It was a goddamn tragedy how entangled organized crime had become with the ordinary people of my neighborhood.

The looks I received on the way to our table with two women on my arms were thankfully amused and curious rather than scared or disappointed. Hopefully, the rumors that came out of tonight would be limited to me being a playboy and not being associated with the Crane Triad. It was opening night, and I was both a very minor local celebrity and a friend to many of the people here; it made sense that I'd be making an appearance.

I nearly kicked myself when Cory switched to Xiang to joke with the host leading us to our table. Oh my god, how had I forgotten to buy into Xiang? The Cranes were based out of Hunan–my mother's entire family was from Hunan! Still, this was fine, more than early enough to correct the oversight. I had opted not to take the local Hunan dialect as one of my starting languages at character creation, going with Mandarin and Cantonese instead; they were both so obviously superior picks at the time.

I groaned mentally. I had 28 EXP. Goddamn it, if I had just taken the time to get another 2 Experience points before visiting Annie, I could have bought 3 Dice in Linguistics (Xiang).

It was fine, it was fine. 2 Dice and a familiarity with the other Chinese languages would get me through the night. I wouldn't be impressing anyone, but they also wouldn't be able to plot or talk about me in front of my face.

The mistake had me feeling vindictive though when our waitress came out, a feeling worsened by the fact I recognized her as one of my sister's friends.

"Hi, guys!" she said cheerily. "So good to see you all on our big opening day! Can I start you off with anything to drink? We have three cocktails on special to celebrate the momentous occasion. They're—"

"I'm ready to order, actually," I said, cutting her off with a hapless smile.

"Of course, sir—"

"C'mon, Mary, really, 'sir'? I carried your hockey gear for you after you broke your leg."

"Sorry. James, what can I get for you?" She giggled at the reminder and pulled out a little pad.

"You're probably not going to need that; this'll be real easy to remember. Let's get two of all the cocktails on the menu as well as extra straws so we can sample them as we like. And I'm going to be drinking kalimotxos all night, so just keep those bitches coming. Also, I've got a taste for champagne today, so bring out a few bottles in ice to chill - anything over a hundred years old will do."

"Heeey! Kalimotxos!" Cory was beaming, fully on board with my nonsense. "Like at the skate park that one summer. Yeah, Ima do those too, Mary. And bring us out some of them fancy little sweet cherries too, so we can be all nostalgic and shit while staying classy."

"Oh god," added Jewel. "Remember when O'Reilly vomited on that bike cop? That was so gross."

Edith looked wistful. "Wow, you guys really make me regret not being a delinquent. I went to nerd camp every summer."

I laughed, kind of annoyed at myself for having as much fun as I was. "For food," I continued, "real simple, give me two of every appetizer and side, one of every entrée and salad, and—wait." I turned to Cory. "How long until the meeting?"

He shrugged. "Long as you need, bro."

"Sick. Yeah, two of every dessert as well. Oh, and we'll need a pitcher of water with a lot of ice in it after the apps come out. You should actually offer that to every table in here – it's about to be very hot in this room. What about you guys?"

Jewel shook her head. "I think I'm just going to pick off of yours. Kalimotxos for sure, though. Edie?"

"Same."

"Fuck that!" exclaimed Cory. "Give me the whole goddamn ocean! I'm eating two whole-ass lobsters and the swordfish special!"

I reached over the table to dap him up. "Hell yeah. That's what's up, bro."

"Dog, I just wish I could keep up. You fucking Monkey D. Luffy over there. I don't know how you martial artists do it."

"Mind over matter, Cory. Mind over matter. You can do anything if you put your heart into it."

Cory nodded sincerely, starting to tear up. "Fuck, James, that's beautiful. On god, Ima get that tattooed on my chest, bro." Damn, maybe he really was an idiot. What did I know after all?

I contemplated dissuading him, but for tonight, that wasn't me. We were two very dumb men here to gas each other up. "Fuckin', that would be so sick, dude. You should definitely do that."