I don't remain idle during the six weeks leading up to New Year's.
Using money I'd originally set aside for a V-Haven and ga subscription, I splurge on A-grade nutrient solution. When the Nutri-Peak sales lady explains how the bulk orders work and tells the cost, I freeze, thumb hovering over the fingerprint scanner used for secure paynts.
Worried she's about to lose a major sale, the lady starts talking faster, trying to sell on how great a deal it is. I can't help the half-hysterical laugh that bubbles up, and her face tightens in even greater worry. She must get paid commission.
She looks around to make sure her boss isn't nearby and leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, "If you commit right now, I can throw in a box of De-Tox Tea and a case of Muscle ad."
I manage to get myself under control and whisper back, "Five cases, and I'll take the 6-month plan."
"Done!" she agrees, quickly updating the order.
I press my thumb to the scanner, and just like that, I'm 37,050 credits poorer. The saleswoman grins like she's pulled off the greatest scam of her career.
I barely make it outside before my own grin breaks out.
I cannot believe how much I just screwed over Nutri-Peak.
37k may seem like a lot, but it's nothing for six months of uninterrupted ga ti, especially at my neuro-intensity level. Nutri-Peak is underestimating Viren's Refuge. Instead of charging per bottle, they're selling A-grade bulk orders in 3-month, 6-month, and 1-year supplies. To determine pricing for the 6-month, they used the baseline: one 1500 CR bottle equals 40 hours ga ti equals one week of ga ti. Then they simply multiplied by 26 weeks and slapped on a 5% discount to make it more appealing.
V-Havens store four bottles of solution at a ti, so as soon as the fourth bottle is accessed, an alert is sent, and the next shipnt is delivered sa-day. Nutri-Peak must think most players won't co close to 40 hours a week after the initial fervor dies down, especially since the server's only open during the middle of the day in the US. And since the 40-hour benchmark is actually for the lower C/D-grade solutions, they're expecting closer to 60 hours of ga ti per bottle of A-grade. They're planning on making a ton of money when players only use 1-2 bottles per month but their subscriptions charge them for 4.3.
Fucking joke's on them. Considering I'll be spending the max-allotnt 12 hours a day, 7 days a week in-ga, and my neural output is almost twice the average, I'll be going through 3 bottles every week.
Sucks to suck, Nutri-Peak.
If I had the money, I'd buy the 1-year plan with its beautiful 8% discount in a bloody heartbeat. Unfortunately, by the ti I make enough money in-ga to upgrade, I'm sure they'll have realized how badly they miscalculated.
Figuring it's best to keep this montum going, I head to the gym near my apartnt. It's exactly what I'm looking for: open 24 hours, decent equipnt, enough free weights for my needs but not enough to attract a horde of Grunters who'd transform the place into a athead Testosterone Pit. Plus, the gym offers mixed martial arts classes four nights a week.
I manage to negotiate a reduced rate by paying a full year mbership up front, and they offer a discount on one month of personal training.
My trainer's na is Ken, and he looks exactly how you'd expect a personal trainer nad Ken to look. It's almost enough to make quit before I've even started, but I persevere.
I keep reminding myself it's all for the ga.
I do my best to ignore his frat t-shirt with the sleeves cut off to showcase his tanned muscles (even though it's winter in Seattle for fuck's sake; no one's seen the Sun in months) and calmly explain my goals: Gain lean muscle. Enhance flexibility and agility. Improve endurance.
Ken responds with an encouraging smile. His straight teeth are so blindingly white my eyes water. "Can do, bro!" He slaps my back. I wish I had my dual blades. "Ken's got you. Ken knows just what you need!"
Ken refers to himself in the third person.
Of course Ken does.
I remind myself if I kill Ken, they won't let bring my V-Haven to prison.
Anything for the ga, right? Sighing, I let Ken drag to the agility course.
---
"You look like shit, Lieu."
"For sha, Deion, better not let your husband hear you flirting." I flutter my eyelashes at my neighbor as I unlock my door.
Deion's concerned frown lightens at my easy teasing. He'd been worried about , again. I swear he and his husband order shit online every day just so they have an excuse to 'coincidentally' be in the hall picking up packages when they hear coming.
I amp up my trademark smirk and let him know for the millionth ti that I'm fine. Really, truly fine.
Relieved, he winks at . "Theo knows he's the only one for . Like I could give up his big, beautiful di"
"Dimples!" I interrupt loudly. "Psh, we all know mine are superior. And speaking of superior, how's my traitorous dog's real best friend doing?" I ask the nine-year-old boy who's appeared in Deion's open doorway. Deion chokes, and if his skin weren't dark brown, he'd be bright red.
"G'morning, Eric!" Deion and Theo's adopted son Robbie says, loud and energetic as ever.
I raise a skeptical eyebrow. "It's 7 at night, Robbie."
"Yup, so, like mid-morning for you, right?"
I an, he's technically not wrong. "All right then, good morning to you, too."
"Need to walk Pix?" Robbie asks, wiggling in excitent. "You don't look so good."
Ouch.
In my defense, I'm more exhausted from the effort of not strangling Ken with an exercise band than from the three-hour work out, but I still look like death.
Deion laughs so hard he needs to lean on the doorfra. I glare at him, then with a sowhat softer expression, I turn back to Robbie. "Thanks, but I took him for a long run today, so he won't need to go out until later." I can't handle Robbie's slump of utter dejection, so I add, "Never fear! He'll be needing walks every day again, starting in January, so he'll get plenty of ti with his favorite little dude."
Robbie literally jumps for joy. It's stupidly adorable. "Yay! I can't wait! But don't feel sad, Eric. Pix loves you, too! Even if he likes better!"
As Robbie runs back into the apartnt, I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the little dude's blunt savagery.
"It's your fault he's so shaless, you know," Deion says, pushing off the doorfra.
"How do you figure?"
Deion just looks at .
I look back, wide-eyed innocence.
Deion snorts. "Thanks for the save, earlier."
"I'm telling Theo next ti I see him."
"You're dead to ." Deion stomps into his apartnt, and laughing, I go into mine, ready for a beer and a bath.
My dog Alopix (yes, after the Alolan Vulpix Pokmon, fight .) is waiting by the door, and I decide to believe the Samoyed's spirited tail-wagging is purely enthusiasm about my return, and has nothing to do with him hearing Robbie outside.
I carry my first Nutri-Peak deliveries to the table and open a bottle of Muscle ad. The bland taste and chalky texture is ten kinds of awful, but I can feel the burn telling the drink's working overti repairing my sore, shredded muscles, so that makes finish the bottle in one go. If I drink one of these after every workout with Ken and the thankfully non-douchey MMA instructor, I should be able to put on a decent amount of muscle before the launch.
Alopix the friendly neighborhood polar bear blocks the hall to the bathroom. Though he's generally a chill floof, when he decides it's ti to go out, he's impossible to ignore. His tilty-head pout and wistful stare break down every ti.
This is Xiuying's win as much as his, since she'd gotten him for in the first place because she wanted to make sure I'd regularly see the outside once I got serious about making a living gaming.
With a last longing look in the direction of my bath, I ignore my aching muscles and turn right back around, gesturing for Pix to heel. With a cheerful bark, he bounds to my side, and together, we head out into the night.
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