“Huh? What?” I set the pizza down on the kitchen table and joined them to look out the front door. A man, late 20’s or early 30’s, sat in the rain, legs crossed, hands on his knees, palms down, head lifted. He stared straight ahead, completely ignoring the drizzle that plastered his hair to his forehead.

  At first, it looked like he was wearing a white dress, but the dragon embroidered on it said martial arts to me…Chinese style dragon, by the look of it. The one thing he wasn’t was Chinese. He looked as pale as I am.

  I’ve enjoyed the occasional Kung Fu movie over the years. A few years back, a streaming show about the Monkey God was a lot of fun…especially since some of the supposed Chinese characters had Australian accents. It was filmed in Australia.

  He didn’t flinch as we watched from the small patch of dryness my porch gave us, rain pattering steadily on the roof above.

  Turning to me, SandB asked me like I should know the answer, “Why is he doing that?”

  Blaze looked at me, puzzled. I didn’t think she knew either.

  “I don’t know everything,” I told them, “But in this case, I’ve read enough martial arts stories and seen movies to make a guess.” I raised my voice so he would hear me through the rain.

  “I’m not an ancient martial arts Sensei, and I’m not taking on students. I already have one,” I added, nodding toward SandB.

  He ignored us.

  “I haven’t seen them,” SandB said. “Please. Why is he doing that? Won’t he get sick sitting out there?”

  “He wasn’t there when I got home,” Blaze said.

  “So, he hasn’t been there long. He came after you came in.” I glanced across the street at the cross street, opposite the Speedy Pizza. An older white van was parked there, markings worn away where a rectangular logo or company name had likely been. I guessed there was a matching patch on the other side. The front plate looked like it might be California. Even with my glasses, it was too far away to be certain.

  “Will. Come on. Stop teasing us and tell us what’s going on,” Blaze said, a little peeved.

  “OK, OK. The trope,” I said, taking a breath, “is the kid who wants to be a martial artist but is too poor to pay for training. He sits outside the master’s dojo, enduring all sorts of weather, until the old teacher gives up and agrees to train him, impressed by his dedication and stubbornness.”

  I paused for another breath. “He shows it by kneeling through all sorts of weather, trades work for lessons, and, of course, the kid grows up to be a kick-ass martial artist who protects the dojo and students.”

  Blaze added, “He’s wearing a black belt. Doesn’t that mean he already knows what he’s doing and can teach it? Our Quantico hand-to-hand instructor wore one. He was good. Very good.”

  SandB broke in. “Baily’s in the car waiting. Enjoy your pizza, and let me know what happens with him. I hope he doesn’t get sick out there. See you at the ten o’clock spawn. We signed up.” She scurried to Baily’s car, idling in my driveway.

  “Will do. And thanks for the pizza. We’ll talk then and let you know how it goes,” I called to her back, taking the box inside. The aroma of hot cheese and meat made my stomach growl.

  I set the box on the kitchen table, pulled out two plates and silverware, grabbed a two-liter bottle of diet cola from the fridge, and two glasses from the cabinet above the coffeepot. Table set.

  “Are you really going to just leave him there?” Blaze’s voice carried from the front door.

  “That’s the plan. If you want to do something, you could float a double-sided shield over him. That’ll keep the rain off. The heat will give him some warmth, and by the time it runs out, maybe he’ll get the hint and leave.” I could feel her glaring at me from the front door all the way to the kitchen.

  [William of Brinsford:] [Blaze] [I want to play his game for a short while and see what he does…and why he’s here. Can’t do that if I immediately invite him in. Or he may give up and leave.]

  [Blaze:] [William of Brinsford] [OK, now I understand. If you want me to keep him dry and warm, does that make me the good cop?]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Blaze] [You are a good cop. But yes. Meg’s next door if he gets sick and needs help.]

  [Blaze:] [William of Brinsford] [What does he want? And don’t tell me to learn rapier.]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Blaze] [He might. But he’s wearing a Chinese dragon. Likely Chinese martial arts. Game name Zhao Li-chen, level 4 martial artist. Kick 3, Punch 3, Avoid 2, Dodge 2, Parry 2, Throw 3…plus whatever moves he already knew before this. I don’t want to fight him hand-to-hand. I’ll lose.]

  [Blaze:] [William of Brinsford] [That still doesn’t tell me why he’s here.]

  She closed the door behind her and joined me in the kitchen. I pulled out a chair for her.

  “Spill it, Will. What does he want?” She sat, pulling a slice loose and sliding it on to her plate.

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  “I think he reads Wuxia. A Chinese martial arts version of GameLit. He wants to learn how to cultivate Mana.”

  Blaze froze, slice halfway to her mouth.

  “Wu what?”

  “Wu-shia,” I said, as close as I could approximate the Chinese. “If you’ve watched anime, you’ve seen characters making superpowered jumps, punches, and weapon strikes, sometimes calling out the move they’re using. That’s what they do in Wuxia stories. The more they refine their Chi, the more power they have.”

  “That’s like the way we do things…get new levels and more powerful spells?”

  “More like fighters, but yeah, close enough.”

  “They use some MANA,” Blaze said. “So, he wants to increase his MANA without the other stuff, so he can hit harder?”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said. “Except I haven’t seen anything in the rules that lets a fighter do that, not outside of gaining it each level. Maybe they can optionally get more MANA instead of taking new skills or levels.”

  “Shadow would love that. More STEALTHs and VANISHs,” Blaze added.

  I forked a piece of pizza and chewed, washing it down with a sip of cola. It had everything on it…the perfect garbage pizza from college. The smell of hot pizza was a nostalgia hit I hadn’t felt since before all this started. “This is good. We’ll have to do this again, but call it in.”

  “That way neither of us has to cook,” Blaze said, talking around her slice. “You order; I pick it up on the way home. I drove past it two days ago…I can find it again.”

  “Sounds good to me. Not the usual place I order from. Maybe that should change.”

  We took our time, and even with nearly half a pizza left, we were both full.

  Blaze stood, pushing her chair back. “I’m going to look. See if he’s still there and all right.”

  “OK.” I cast DETECT MANA, and the faint dot confirmed he was still sitting where I remembered.

  “He’s still there, Will. I don’t think he’s moved,” Blaze said from the doorway.

  “He’s persistent,” I thought, glancing at my watch. “Only a half hour. Not long at all.”

  “Aren’t you worried something will happen to him?”

  “Yes…and no,” I said. “If there’s a lot of lightning, I’ll act. Meg has a Level 1 Cure Disease, so if he catches a cold, she can help. Granted, her hot chocolate and cookies are a better remedy, but he’ll survive for a while.”

  “You don’t want to deal with him, do you?”

  “I don’t want to disappoint him. From what I know and looked for, what he wants to do is not in the System. I searched for cultivation and Chi…didn’t find anything.”

  “OK. You’re the great Mana Mage…if anyone can figure it out, it’s you. How would you do it?”

  She smiled faintly, trying to coax me. I returned a cheesy one.

  “She’s trying to get me to figure it out. Can I do that?”

  “In the stories, you store it in your core. That’s in your belly. They call it dan-something. Then you circulate it around your body in special channels called meridians. I think acupuncture ties in there somehow too.”

  “Circulate like blood?”

  “Yes. Except you control it. You build it over several levels, each with a certain number of stars. Levels are body, earth, water, air, sky…or something like that. You do it until you max out, become immortal, eventually a god.”

  I paused, trying to remember more. Not all of what I recalled was reliable. “I can look up the levels. They change with each author or animator. You could Google it.”

  “I might. Maybe you should too,” Blaze said.

  “Fine. After I learn all there is about MANA in the Game, OK?”

  She didn’t look happy, more thoughtful. She was working her way around to getting me to do what I didn’t want to do.

  “I don’t feel MANA like you. It’s more like hunger or fullness. Or I see the number on the Game Interface. When casting spells, I can see how much I’ve got left,” she told me. “Is that how you do it?”

  “Kinda. Yeah, feeling full or hungry. I get that, and I check my interface during fights. Otherwise, it’s just there. It doesn’t move around or anything like that.”

  “I feel it if I walk through the Ley Line,” I said. “It kinda tingles. I feel it regenerating faster if I’m standing in it. Not much, but I guess maybe I feel it moving into me when that happens. I feel it filling up when I do a Transfer Mana spell on a line. OK. It’s a fuel gauge. Happy now?”

  “Sort of. See what happens when you think about it? If you can feel a line, why can’t you feel it in you? More than just looking at a fuel gauge? I feel something when I cast a spell. Don’t you?” she asked, grinning like she’d just pulled a gotcha on me.

  “I don’t know. I never tried.”

  We sat there in silence, staring at each other across the scattered pizza crusts for a long minute. The rain pattered steadily against the windows, a soft hiss behind the faint hum of the fridge.

  “Well, did you feel anything?” Blaze asked.

  “Nope. Not a thing.”

  “Did you even try?”

  “Nope again. Should I?”

  “Will!” she screamed, sounding half exasperated, half amused. She looked downright disgusted when I grinned at her outburst.

  I stood, rounded the corner of the table, and came up behind her. Placing my hands gently on her shoulders, I said, “Stand up.”

  She looked up, startled. Puzzled. Starting to look worried. “Why?”

  “Just stand up,” I said, keeping my voice even and my face neutral. Beneath my hands, I could feel her shoulders tense under my light touch.

  I waited.

  “Why? Why should I? What are you going to do?”

  “A few days ago…the night you were a hungry Fire Mage instead of an FBI agent, and we rescued Shadow and the people in that restaurant…what did you promise me you’d do?”

  Her expression shifted, showing just enough to tell me she understood what I meant…and that she was weighing whether to continue what we’d started…or stop.

  “I haven’t done much with her since then. The World Boss got in the way. I’ll go whichever way she wants to go from here.” I waited, patient and still.

  “Did you have to bring that into this?” she said finally. But she stood up. My hands stayed where they were as her arms fell to her sides. She tried to keep her face blank and almost managed it, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. I rubbed them lightly, then turned her to face me.

  “Remember? I said this could lead to good times and not-so-good times. Just like your job. You may not want to do everything they ask, but if it’s part of what you signed up for, you gird your loins…as the saying goes…and do it.”

  That earned a quick nod.

  “If you get sent to a dump to look for evidence your boss believes was tossed there, what do you do?”

  She gave me that dagger look again, then sighed. “You know I’d go look. I’ve looked for evidence before,” she said, a small smile forming. “Not in a dump, but some dumpsters. That close enough?”

  Nodding, I smiled.

  “I won’t disagree with that,” I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She melted against me, arms wrapping around my waist. For a couple of minutes, we just stood there…quiet, steady, listening to the rain tapping the glass.

  “We still have to do something about that guy out there,” Blaze reminded me.

  “I know.

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