𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒 || ready player one [DISCONTINUED]

0007 - Distractions

I choose a cocktail dress covered in large, gold doubloon-shaped sequins for the party at the Distracted Globe. I pile on as many rings as possible and complete the overkill with a pair of glittery, gold heels and a simple gold headdress. I've said it before and I'll say it again, there has always been a certain beauty to having a famous avatar with no face.

There is a large crowd on both sides of the red carpet leading up to the staircase into the Distracted Globe. As I step out of my convertible 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California, a replica of that from the 1986 film Ferris Bueller's Day Off, cameras turn my way and begin flashing. I break out a winning smile and wave elegantly, shrinking the car and placing into my clutch purse – also gold. They have no idea who I am, only that, as I received an invitation to such a prestigious event, I must be famous.

At the bottom of the staircase, I flash my invitation to the NPC bouncer. He frowns when he sees the name, but I give him a small wink and press a finger to my lips. He smiles a little and nods me inside.

The Distracted Globe is a huge spherical club with a warped gravity that allows you to walk the entire way around the inside of the sphere without falling towards where you'd imagine the ground would be. The dance floor is situated at the 'core' if you will, and all you need to do to get there is push off hard from the floor. I have been here a few times before, but only after I took a break from piracy.

As I reach the nearest bar, 'Rebel Yell' by Billy Idol begins to play and I look up at the dance floor. That's when I spot none other than Parzival and Art3mis flying up to join the dancers. I shake my head. They're both idiots for even being here, but I can't help smiling.

"Everything alright, Miss?" asks the Klingon bartender.

"Yes," I assure her. I jerk my head up to the dance floor. "Just got my eye on a couple of morons up there."

"You don't dance?"

"I do. Just don't have anyone to dance with." It's a poor excuse but, now that I know the lovebirds are here, I'm not particularly fond of the idea of getting distracted. Though I don't know either Parzival or Art3mis very well, I've seen the way he looks at her, and have heard enough from Aech to know that he's as helpless as a lovesick fool up there with her. And if anything were to go wrong, which it more than likely will do at a party in a PvP zoned club, Parzival would be all too paralysed by Art3mis to do anything.

"I'm sure there's someone in here who wants to dance with a gorgeous girl like you." The bartender nods at a spot over my shoulder and I follow her gaze.

The young man looks spooked when he realises that he's been caught. He's tall, with long, slicked-back, black hair. His skin sparkles almost scaly in the moving disco lights and is covered in Cardassian-like ridges. I instantly recognise him as the drummer of RadioStars, a popular band in the OASIS.

He steps away from the group around him, presumably his band members and some groupies, and shuffles through the crowd towards me. Looking back at the bartender, I see she has an eyebrow raised. I smirk and slip off the stool.

"I'm Micki," he says, holding out a hand for me to take.

"I know," I reply, matter-of-factly.

"And who might you be?" Micki doesn't sing in the band, and so I never realised that his accent is pretty similar to my own from the real-world.

"Amelia," I say as we kick off the ground towards the dance floor. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"How come I don't recognise you?"