Game Street
Originally submitted for the Verdant Owl 2026 Writing Battle.
The prompt details:
Genre: Steampunk
Character: Bandit
Setting: Arcade
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Cover image credit: @TheArtSherpa
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“Two bandits and a priest walk into Game Street,” Ryot said as he pushed the metal door open and held it for his two associates. The doorway led into darkness. A gaping mouth.
“I’m not a priest, I’m a monk,” Glee said.
“Same thing.” Ryot grinned at the stocky man.
Glee scoffed, but Ryot thought he saw a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.
“I’m not a bandit.” Puck frowned.
“We’ll fix that right up.” Ryot let the door swing shut and waved the men aside.
It was hot. The metal structure retained the day’s worth of sun warmth. It cut the street in two. On one side — the inhabited, if not very prosperous, Ridge Street; on the other — the den of steam-powered sin, as Glee had called it when Ryot scouted and recruited him for the job. Game Street.
“What now?” Glee hunched in the corner, looking around and rubbing his palms together, which made Ryot sigh. He didn’t remember the man fidgeting as much during their first meeting. If the three of them got caught, it would be because of Glee’s suddenly non-existent poker face.
“As we discussed,” Ryot said.
The door opposite the one they had entered swung open, letting out a group of dazed men, hollow-faced and clearly intoxicated. They walked through and exited the barricade, not noticing the trio huddling in the shadowy corner.
Glee whistled. “Tough luck with the games, it seems,” he said.
“Tough luck for one is good luck for another,” Ryot said. “We go in. One hour, yes?”
The men nodded.
***
Glee wasn’t really nervous.
His grey robe, held at the waist with a brass belt, made a swishing noise as he walked deeper into Game Street, weaving through the crowd of players. The cacophony surrounded him. Blaring music from the games, excited and angry exclamations from the people. Glee hunched his shoulders and made himself small.
The air was thick with steam mixing with smoke and smog — the perpetual blanket covering the capital, but ever more intense here. The street was narrow, with most of the space occupied by bulky steam-powered game machines. Five-story buildings crowded the pavement on both sides, leaning into it, only letting in a sliver of light and a grain of fresh air.
Glee looked up at the lanterns and colourful paper garlands lining the space between the opposite windows, condensation glittering on their waterproofed surfaces. The air smelled metallic.
“Damn it!” A large man on Glee’s right kicked the machine and charged angrily into the crowd, parting it like water as he moved towards the exit. He pushed Glee aside, making him stumble over his robe.
Puck walked up to him, and Glee threw up his hands, irritated. “Ryot knew right well to choose the busiest day, didn’t he?”
“Relax and just do your thing,” Puck snatched a half-filled glass of beer from a nearby table and gulped it down. Glee scrunched his nose, then climbed onto the vacated table.
“I—” he looked down, but Puck was already gone, dissolved into the crowd, half of which — mostly the queueing folk — turned their eyes to Glee, expecting him to do something embarrassing.
“Good people of the—” he floundered. “—of Game Street and beyond!” Good enough. “I’ve come here today, a representative of the Higher Science Monastery, to save you! The time has come to embrace the power of lightning, the electrical life-giving currents and reject the all-rotting steam machines!”
The crowd shuffled closer. Some of them even looked interested.
“Think on it, good people. The coughs, the mould. And the cause? Wretched steam! It powers our machines, it entertains us—” Glee gestured at the games, their intricate mechanisms working hard and puffing out clouds of excess vapour. “You’re all dependent on your silent killer!” Glee paused for effect. “At the Higher Science Monastery, we dedicate our time to contemplation and education. We see the potential that lightning brings, we hear the thunderous impact of its wrath, and we speak when we see a new opportunity to elevate a lesser man!”
“Who are you calling a lesser man?” As interest turned indignant, a murmur passed over the crowd.
“Leave, priest, monk, whatever you are.” A serving woman with darting eyes hissed at Glee. “Your words will fall on dead ears here.”
“Deaf,” Glee said.
“What?”
“It’s ‘on deaf ears’, not ‘dead’—” he cut off when the woman put her hands on her hips.
“Idiot,” she said and stepped aside. The men behind her cracked their knuckles and smiled like predators, teeth gleaming.
Glee sighed. “I’m leaving, alright?” He jumped off the table, only the men didn’t part for him. “Let me pass.”
“Deaf ears, eh?” An overly muscled man guffawed and raised his hand in a fist, making Glee flinch instinctively, but instead of hitting, the man pushed him hard. Glee stumbled to the other side of the circle of laughing men, where someone pushed him right back. Glee’s monk robe ripped when he stepped on it while catching his balance, and he cursed inwardly.
At least, Ryot would have his distraction.
***
The crowd was thick as flies.
Ryot’s experience taught him crowds made one almost invisible. He walked the paved street, letting his heels knock in rhythm with the tunes played by the machines. The street was divided in segments, with bars and guard posts spaced out between them. Ryot chose a bench across from the guard post door and sat. Waiting.
A well-built woman played a game right next to him, dropping coins in one by one as she progressed through the difficulty levels. Ryot looked over, curious. A gear-studded mechanical horse with a little brass man mounted on top ran in circles on the face of the machine. When the woman pulled a lever, steam would hiss and a horse would jump over an obstacle. If she failed to pull on time, or pulled too sharply, the brass man would fall off into the mechanical abyss.
“Good people of the—”
Upon hearing Glee’s voice, Ryot perked up and shifted on the bench. If all went well, some heads would turn in that direction, creating an opening for him to drop into the shadows behind the steam-powered games and harvest the copper parts from the back of the few vacant machines. If all went even better… Ryot glanced at the guard post door, still closed tight.
The commotion caused by Glee seemed to be picking up. Ryot pushed off the bench and walked idly towards the guard post door, passing through a cloud of lingering steam mixed with dust raised by so many stomping men and women.
A faint ring sounded from inside the guard post. Ryot’s heart beat faster. Someone had pulled the distress cord to call in a guard to deal with a problem. The door in front of Ryot swung open, and two guards strode out. Ryot caught the door before it had locked shut and slipped into the room, praying it was empty.
It was dimmer and quieter than the street. No guards inside. Ryot exhaled. A day without an unnecessary casualty was a good day.
There was a desk and a couple of chairs against the far wall, a sofa, and a set of large round dumbbells in the middle of the room. The air was stale and smelled like burnt coffee. Ryot noticed the open ledger on the desk, almost inviting him to browse its pages. A dull pencil was nestled in the middle.
It would contain information on material ordered for maintenance of this street segment — enough copper to set Ryot up for a long time. He leafed through the thick ledger and copied the inbound shipment and dock numbers on a scrap of paper, which he tucked into a front pocket of his vest.
Hopefully, there was still enough time to harvest some copper from the machines while Glee’s distraction lasted. And when the novelty of a fight wore off, Puck would…
The alarm blared.
“Scald you, Puck,” Ryot hissed through his teeth, rushing to the door. Either Puck was too early or Ryot dawdled too long after all. No matter. He had what he came for.
***
Puck didn’t go to his destination right away. He kept an eye on Ryot instead, watching him slip into the guard room. This wasn’t the plan.
So it’s every man for himself, huh?
Puck went to the closest game machine. The player had stopped playing and was craning over the heads of the crowd to watch Glee’s fight. Puck did feel sorry for the monk. Fighting remained popular entertainment, despite the Queen’s pretences. And it worked in Puck’s favour.
Kneeling at the back of the machine, Puck worked quickly. If the player decided to continue, steam would scald the skin off Puck’s hands and face.
He pulled out a few copper bearings, then unspooled a copper wire and finally disengaged a copper tube. Enough for a week’s worth of food and lodging at least. Just in case Ryot didn’t come through. The engine hissed weakly and then fell silent.
Was he a proper copper bandit now? Or just a petty thief?
Puck pushed his way from under the machine and leaned against the wall in the back. He looked up just in time to see the two guards returning to their post.
Was Ryot still inside? No way to know. It was too early for the second distraction. And if Puck pulled the alarm lever, they would have to leave immediately, with barely anything harvested at all.
He could just leave Ryot to his fate. He hadn’t followed the plan, after all. That would serve him right. Copper thieves and bandits rarely worked alone, however. And Puck didn’t trust the man to keep silent. Resigned, he jogged to the bright red lever, not too worried about being seen, and pulled it.
***
Ryot exited the room into the chaos of a forced evacuation. Just in front of the door, the guards stood, with their backs to him. Ryot shivered. Too close. He let the door fall shut and stepped away around the row of games, merging with the crowd.
Above, the oil-fuelled lanterns flashed one by one, indicating the emergency exit direction.
“You bastard.” Someone poked him in the ribs.
Glee. His eye was blue and swollen shut. His lower lip was split and bloody. Ryot winced.
“You knew I would get beaten,” he said. The words were thick in his mouth, but there was no anger in his voice.
“It was a possibility. You did well.” Unconsciously, Ryot’s hand strayed towards the front pocket of his vest, where the scrap of paper was. Glee followed his movements with his one eye, but said nothing, trailing after Ryot outside.
***
Groups of people mingled about Ridge Street, hoping for a speedy reopening of Game Street.
Puck was the last to join the crew at the underpass between the towering buildings. Ryot was getting impatient.
“I wasn’t sure where we were meeting.”
“You pulled the lever early,” Ryot said.
“You changed the plan.” Puck crossed his bony arms over his chest.
There went Ryot’s hope of pocketing the whole haul by himself.
Glee looked between the two of them. “What’s that in your pocket?” he asked. Both Ryot and Puck flinched, but Glee pointed at Puck’s coat.
The man frowned, then sighed and discreetly pulled out two copper pieces — a pipe and a wire. “Your share, I guess.”
Ryot took the pipe, Glee hid the wire in the folds of his robe. He looked at Ryot expectantly.
“I have nothing,” he said, looking at Puck. He hoped the man would stay silent for now. “I chose the wrong spot to stand. Players too determined there.” He shrugged.
“Alright, better luck next time,” Glee said. “That wire is a good couple of days’ worth either way, especially for a monk.”
He shook hands with Puck and then came up to Ryot and patted him on the shoulder with one hand and on his chest with another.
“Thank you for this opportunity,” he said with a restrained smile, then turned around and walked away.
Once Glee was well out of sight, Puck and Ryot exchanged glances.
“So, what was it in that guard post that made you drop our plan?” Puck asked.
“I’ve got their next shipment location,” Ryot said. He reached for the note, but the pocket was empty. “What the hell.”
He checked every pocket on his body, but the paper was gone. Spirited away. Snatched. Ryot froze.
“Oh, scald you!” he roared, making heads turn. Puck stared at him. “Scald you, you damn priest!”
***
Three streets down, Glee dove into an alley and pulled a bundle from behind an old, rusty steambike. Good leather pants, a loose shirt, wide-brimmed hat. Just another city-dweller. He changed and carefully folded the damaged monk’s robe. He fastened two curved knives at his waist, making sure they remained concealed under the drooping fabric.
Leaning against the steambike, Glee unfolded the scrap of paper and whistled, then winced at the pang of pain in his split lip.
Time to cash in the winnings.
Two bandits and a monk walked into Game Street. Only the monk came out a bandit.
It’s my second Writing Battle and the first break into the Final Showdown! I consider it a huge success.
To be honest, I am already planning a return to the characters and the world of Game Street. Without a word count constraint, I will be able to flesh them out and explore their backstories and adventures in more detail.
What do you think: yay, or nay?
Thank you for reading! The fiction I post here will always remain free.
Enjoyed the story? Please, consider supporting my writing.
Love this! I had a feeling that monk was up to something ;) Nice world building with the mechanical game.
This was an excellent and fun read. I think you should have won the whole thing!