I remember snot-sicles on my face as a kid. Philly winters could be harsh yet fun. Blizzards and snow ball fights. Warming up inside with hot chocolate and the Eagles on TV. Good times… now, buried in the distant past of a disintegrated world.

  I licked my chapped lips and my tongue poked at the frozen snot-stashe just above. G was climbing up the side of a jagged ice wall, with me dangling from his back like a mountaineer harness. Count B helped where he could—whipping out vines, anchoring in cracks, and lashing around ice protrusions, giving G leverage and occasional pulley assistance, to continue the ascent.

  ERNI: Sam, activate your armor’s rebreather. I’ve detected a dip in your O2 saturation.

  ERNI was right. We were in thin air now. According to my HUD, the atmospheric pressure had dropped substantially. We were at an elevation of 2,500 meters above sea level and the oxygen availability was now 75%.

  I flipped my standard face shield down, keeping the Veil-Rift Visor up. With my rebreather system and Count B’s oxygen-pumping abilities, the altitude’s hypoxic effects immediately subsided.

  ME: What about you, G? You breathing okay?

  GNARLTHARR: I’m… fine.

  I wasn’t buying it, but G was built different, and seemed to be getting along well enough.

  ME: I gotta say… this is definitely the way to mountain climb.

  GNARLTHARR: Laugh it up, Sam-inara.

  ME: Hey, you might want to save your mental breath. The air’s pretty thin up here.

  He looked over his shoulder and growled.

  We crested the edge and stood atop the cliff. From this high vantage point, we were afforded a breathtaking view of the glistening snow lands below. The crisp winter vista looked like the perfect backdrop for an espresso commercial. My mother would have loved it. She was into nature photography before she got caught up in the drugs and booze.

  Looking out at the virgin land was sobering. No technology. No human construction. Just the endless, untouched expanse of nature’s beauty.

  And what did that make me think of?

  “Hey, G, get over here. Let’s take a selfie.”

  “A what?”

  “A selfie. You know… a picture of ourselves. To capture the memory.”

  G looked at me like I had two heads. “I do not wish to capture a memory. Living it once is enough.”

  “Ah, come on, big guy, get over here,” I said, tugging at his purple fur. “It’ll be fun. We’ll post it on the Wormhole.”

  “But I do not wish—“

  I wasn’t taking no for an answer. I tugged him by my side and raised my gauntlet up.

  “Okay, ERNI, snap the picture.”

  There was silence. I tapped the gauntlet a few times, knocking a layer of frost off.

  “ERNI?”

  Suddenly, he shouted, “I’M KING OF THE WOOORRRLLLD!!!”

  ERNI was on the fritz again. His glitches had gotten worse with the sub-zero temperatures and elevation.

  I tapped the screen again and ERNI glitched back to normal.

  “ERNI... a selfie?”

  “Certainly,” he obliged.

  I leaned into G’s side. “Alright, big fella… put on a big smile. Say cheese pizzaaaaaa!”

  CLICK.

  The digital photo immediately displayed in my HUD. The backdrop was immaculate— the glacial horizon spreading out behind us. I had a smooth grin, flashing deuces. Count Basil’s leaves were spread wide, like, Wassaaaap?! And G… well, G was squinting with a toothy scowl.

  I shook my head, “Aw, come on, G. You ruined it. Okay. Let’s take another.”

  “No.” He shoved me aside and started walking.

  “You know what?!” I yelled, “You’re no fun!”

  “For once, we agree.”

  ----

  We hiked up a 45-degree path. We were about a kilometer away from the scoring zone. With whipping winds and dense snowdrift, visibility was shot to hell.

  The visual reminded me of that movie about the Uruguayan rugby team whose plane crash-landed in the Andes Mountains back in the ‘70s. It was a tragic tale, but one that highlighted the triumph of the human spirit of survival.

  Of course, I didn’t dare mention it to G, because some of them were forced to eat the others. And I knew I would come out on the losing end of that battle.

  We reached an ice gorge. Normally, G would just leap over it, but this was a bit beyond his range. Count B shot out a grappling leaf, catching hold of an ice ledge on a neighboring cliff. Like Indiana Jones and his whip, we swung across and landed safely on the opposite side.

  ME: Ha ha! Now we’re getting into the swing of things!

  GNARLTHARR: Keep it up and I shall tear your mental larynx out.

  COUNT BASIL: Leaf!

  ME: Okay, okay… Sheesh! Everybody chill! I’m setting the puns down.

  On one hand, I was a bit annoyed that Count B and G were ganging up on me. On the other, I was secretly happy about how far they had come in their relationship. More often than not, they saw things eye-to-eye. Or claw-to-leaf. Or something like that.

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  We reached a snow plateau where a green holographic arrow pointed down towards the circular scoring zone in the center. I squinted, giving the area a quick visual sweep, but didn’t see any monsters. My map was also blank. There were no red circles. But I knew better than to trust that.

  Just like a triggering event in a video game, the boss monsters seemed to be activated by proximity as we approached the scoring zones. I was pretty sure G had learned his lesson from barging into the Fizzards’ nest. He was a little more open-minded, this time, about strategizing before dashing in.

  ME: Alright, we don’t know what we’re facing. We just know these bosses are getting more and more difficult. Last time, my plan didn’t work out so hot. G, you’ve got the most experience. What’s our move?

  GNARLTHARR: We shove our blades into the bad guy until he is dead.

  ME: Okay… good strategy. Count B? You got any words of wisdom?

  COUNT BASIL: Leaf.

  ME: Right. And you, ERNI… do you care to weigh in on the situation?

  ERNI: The most probable strategy for success is… ‘Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads!’

  ME: What?

  I tapped the gauntlet screen again and he smiled up at me.

  ERNI: Yes, it is quite lovely.

  ME: Okay, guys, really good pre-battle chat. We’re a regular guild of wisdom. Let’s go.

  As we approached the scoring zone, our three health gauges stacked in the top left corner. A much longer health bar unfurled from the top right.

  Mission Complete: Reach Scoring Zone.

  Mission: Kill Boss Monster.

  A long enemy health bar appeared at the top of my HUD.

  I unmuted the ISSN feed as I spun on my heels, looking for any signs of the monster.

  “And we’ve got a Scoring Zone alert!” Blink crowed. “SackUpSam, his leafy friend, and his purple bodyguard have all stumbled into the icy lair of our next boss monster!”

  Mute.

  ME: Purple bodyguard? C’mon, really?

  GNARLTHARR: I have no problem with it.

  ”QUACK-WAACK-WAACK-WAACK!”

  ME: What the fuck is that?

  The creature’s war cry echoed across the frozen expanse.

  I heard a sudden gush of wind, but there was no creature in sight. But suddenly, we were cast in dark shadows as a large silhouette glided overhead.

  The creature landed with a thunderous impact in the center of the scoring zone.

  The vibration disrupted the snow-tipped peak of an adjacent glacier, starting a mini-avalanche, blocking any path of retreat.

  I stared up at the monster. It was as tall as a basketball rim and looked like it weighed a ton. It had the head and wings of a duck, but the body, tiny arms, and thick legs of a T-Rex. Fresh entrails hung from its blood-stained bill. It’s tiny arms were slick with gore.

  The info box above it read—

  Tyrannoduckus. Level 10.

  The monster had vertical, bloodshot eyes—three of them—as if it had just come in from a weekend bender. Most surprising was the glowing tattoo on its shoulder. I couldn’t be certain, but it looked like hundreds of tick marks representing destroyed enemies.

  The monster caught me looking at it. He patted his tattoo, then kicked his huge, clawed feet back like a bull preparing to charge.

  ME: Uhhh… any ideas, guys?

  G unsheathed his VengeAxe and started to charge with a brand-new war cry.

  “TONIGHT, WE FEAST ON DUUUUCK!”

  He leaped into the air. Majestic. Glorious. VengeAxe cocked back for a mighty blow—

  THWACK!

  —that never happened. Instead, the Tyrannoduckus knocked him flat into the ground with a wing smack.

  “QUACK-ACK-ACK-ACK!”

  G shook his head. It was the first time I’d seen him take so much damage from a single hit.

  The Tyrannoduckus looked from G’s fallen body over to me. He cocked his head, clawing his feet back once more.

  SHIIING!

  I drew my pizza cutters.

  ME: Alright, Count B! It’s you and me!

  COUNT BASIL: Leaf!

  I took a running leap, offering a war cry of my own.

  “DUCK SAAUUUCE!!!”

  The monster flung a wing in my direction, but I was ready, somersaulting over it.

  “Ha ha ha, Duckhead! Nice try, but—“

  THWACK!

  He spun around and backhanded me with his other wing, sending me and B, rolling across the snow.

  ME: Owww… that hurt.

  COUNT BASIL: …leaf.

  G and I rose back to our feet, dusting off the snow. The Tyrannoduckus rolled his shoulders before stretching into a judo pose with an extended wing.

  I pointed a pizza cutter at him.

  “THIS DUCK GOES DOWN!”

  This time, G and I dashed towards him, simultaneously, from opposite angles. The monster spun, chopping its wings in both directions. G flipped over one while I slid underneath the other. I scored my first slash to its body, taking a tiny sliver off its health gauge.

  The creature squawked as my pizza cutter came back, spinning with orange blood.

  “Hmm, orange duck. Haven’t had that in a while.”

  The Tyrannoduckus lunged towards me, bill first. I tumbled out of its way, barely avoiding the blow. Count Basil landed a good swat into its eyes.

  “Quack!” It growled, clawing at its face.

  ME: Good one, Count B!

  G slashed it in the back with his VengeAxe.

  One eye shut, the monster turned towards us, pissed.

  Hell hath no fury like a duck scorned.

  It opened its bill and hocked an ice loogie right at me.

  I didn’t move quick enough. It hit my boots, freezing them to the ground, anchoring me like a tabletop miniature to its base. I tugged at my legs but couldn’t get them free.

  The Tyrannoduckus started to charge in my direction. Count B whacked at the ice with his leafy arm, but it wouldn’t break. We were stuck.

  ME: G. A little help!

  G scrambled on a path to intercept the creature, lowering his shoulder and putting an old-fashioned football hit on it.

  The beast tumbled off balance, landing hard in the snow just to our left. G shattered the ice base of my feet with his axe.

  “Thanks, dude. I owe you one.”

  “I shall add it to your debt. GET DOWN!”

  He shoved me to the ground as another ice loogie flew overhead. It hit him square in the chest, flinging him back. G landed hard, all four of his arms frozen against his body like an ice straitjacket.

  ME: Hold on, G, I got you!

  The Tyrannoduckus was back on its feet, lumbering towards G.

  I called up an—

  Inside-Out Grenade

  —from the playbook. I pulled the pin and tossed it at the creature.

  It swatted it away with its wing, sending it into the snow.

  BA-THOOM!

  It erupted, causing another mini avalanche, walling us into a snowy ring with the beast.

  I sped towards G with my swift armor, shoving him out of the way as the monster stampeded past with his mighty T-Rex feet.

  KRISHH!

  G ripped his arms free from the ice block and got back to his feet.

  GNARLTHARR: Thank you, Samzerella.

  ME: Don’t mention it. Slice Tyson and The Spinisher.

  GNARLTHARR: What?

  The Tyrannoduckus spun around, snarling in frustration.

  “QUAAACKK!”

  ME: Names for the pizza cutters. Slice Tyson and the Spinisher.

  The beast started charging towards us again.

  GNARLTHARR: Really? We’re doing that right now?

  ME: Why not?

  G hefted his VengeAxe as the creature neared.

  GNARLTHARR: Those are also stupid names.

  I called up a—

  Glue Grenade

  —and tossed it.

  The Tyrannoduckus tried to swat this one away too, but it stuck to his wing.

  KA-BOOM!

  “QUUAAAARRGHHH!”

  It squealed, stopping mid-stride, as half of its wing blew off. Orange goo spurted everywhere, painting the snowy hilltop.

  The creature lashed out in a frenzy. I flipped through the air, evading another judo chop from its uninjured wing.

  G swung the VengeAxe, but the Tyrannoduckus blocked it with another ice blast from its bill.

  Count B grabbed Quack’s healthy wing, wrapping around it with a vise-like grip.

  The creature flapped it up and down, trying to shake us free.

  Count B held tough, landing a few more punches to the Tyrannoduckus’ eyes. I used the opening, slashing two cut marks into its shoulder tattoo with my pizza cutters.

  “These are the only marks you’re getting today, Quacky!”

  The creature grabbed Count B and I with its T-Rex arms, flinging us ten feet away. I coughed up blood—the wind knocked out of me.

  I stared at the snowy ground, my head rattling. Something about my vision was off. It was different…and orange. Was it the strength of the hit? Had the Tyrannoduckus given me a concussion?

  I reached up and touched my helmet and realized the Veil-Rift Visor had flipped down from the impact.

  KOOM! KOOM!

  The Tyrannoduckus’ dinosaur feet stepped into view. He was standing right over me.

  I craned my neck up to take a peek, but saw far more than that.

  The Veil-Rift Visor truly had enabled me to see that which was hidden. Because there, swinging just above my head, was the dino-duck’s dick and balls.