《Aim Down Sights : A VRMMO FPS Novel》 Prologue: The shrink - V2 Marcus leaned back on the padded couch. He was in his shrink¡¯s office, modestly sized and soundproofed for the privacy of her patients. Books ranging from the simple paperback to thick padded books and leather and iron-bound tomes filled the shelves lining the walls. If found genuine, the collection should fetch a lot of money but still gave off a cozy atmosphere even if they are found fake. For a second, Marcus wondered about the conversations that happened inside these walls and if they were in any way relatable to his reasons for being here. ¡°So, how was your week?¡± Ylena asked. She sat leaned back on her recliner, legs crossed in front of Marcus. She wore an office skirt and a well-fitted blazer, both colored in a dark gray with hints of a checkered pattern. On her left hand was a datapad and a stylus on her right, ready to take down notes as soon as she deems fit. Marcus took his gaze away from the shelves, then towards the doctor. She was young. Marcus guessed her age to be in her mid to late twenties, which is an accomplishment, given that she already had her own practice and an office. He then shrugged, recalling what he had been busying himself since he got discharged from the hospital. ¡°Good, I think. I¡¯ve been working out. Just finished settling into my apartment. Paperwork is done finally, thank god. Still in massive debt. Still expecting to look outside the window to see a blue sky instead of dusty red. But other than that, I think it¡¯s been pretty good.¡± The doctor¡¯s gaze panned over Marcus as she scrutinized what should be under his three-striped black tracksuit. Fortunately, hundreds of years failed to make much of a departure in what was functional and fashionable. Cementing his theory that those creatures working in high fashion were actually aliens failing to understand what a real human being would consider a good outfit. ¡°I could see that going to the gym had been paying well for you. You¡¯ve gained weight since last week.¡± She said. Marcus shrugged again and leaned further back, the couch padding pressed against his sore muscles. It felt good. ¡®He should try finding a massage parlor after the session,¡¯ he thought to himself, ¡®or at least it¡¯s equivalent of it.¡¯ Thinking further, he decided otherwise, not like he had money to burn. ¡°Yeah, been working on getting some muscle wrapped around these sticks I have for limbs. Been running too. I couldn¡¯t get up a flight of stairs without catching my breath at first, but its getting better. Buying meat was the hard part. The meal replacements do the job well enough, but taste weird. Probably what soylent green would taste if it ever was real.¡± ¡°Soylent green?¡± she asked, tilting her head in genuine curiosity. ¡°It¡¯s a reference to a movie, back then. It¡¯s not important.¡± He replied, waving her off. ¡°I see. Do you miss it? Back then?¡± She asked, adding an emphasis on the words ¡®back then¡¯ with a tilt of her head. Marcus frowned for a second. He should be as open as he could with her, considering that the doctor could catch him on a lie, and therefore get a bad mark on his evaluation. He wouldn¡¯t want that. ¡°Been thinking about it, but its like just thinking about your childhood, you know. Like, I¡¯m missing home. Sure, I fully expect to never see them again at some point given my condition back then, but. It¡¯s weird, it¡¯s like homesickness with me being this far away, but the only difference is that you can¡¯t call anyone and tell them how you miss them. You know.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure it will pass, giving time is part of the healing process.¡± She said. ¡°Yeah,¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure it will.¡± Silence settled as Marcus contented himself on simply looking at the floor, chewing the inside of his mouth as he spent the time deep in thought. Ylena let him, watching her patient. ¡°Tell me about the party thrown by your family.¡± Ylena broke the silence after a minute had passed. Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Relatives. They¡¯re there. Still couldn¡¯t remember a fraction of their names given of how many they were back at that time. It¡¯s weird. It¡¯s like, I was the stranger at the party dedicated to me. I don¡¯t know them, but they sure know me. They¡¯re technically my great-great-grandchildren and it¡¯s the same closeness you could get between generations.¡± He paused. ¡°Don¡¯t know if they still exist, but have you ever been to the zoo?¡± ¡°On earth, yes.¡± She replied. ¡°It¡¯s like that. But instead of a reinforced glass keeping between you and them, it¡¯s time. I¡¯m their great great great great uncle, wooo...¡± He said, waving his hand, ¡°It¡¯s like what? Around two hundred fifty years?¡± He sighed, absentmindedly plucking a pack from his jacket pocket and plucking a cigarette between his lips. ¡°Might as well be a zoo exhibit to them.¡± He said, looking up and caught himself, ¡°Oh, do you mind?¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°Go ahead, but please direct the smoke to the vents.¡± She said, pointing over to Marcus¡¯ right. ¡°And make sure none of the ash gets to the furniture.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± He said, pulling out a shiny metal canister and popped it open, revealing a portable ashtray. ¡°And also for hooking me up with a prescription for this. It calms me down more than you think. You can count that on one of the many things I find dumb in this time.¡± He said, then chuckled. ¡°Well, maybe not that dumb, but you should see the look people send to me the first time I pulled one of these out.¡± ¡°Do they bother you?¡± Ylena asked, almost pouncing with the question. Marcus took another drag, blowing a stream of smoke to his right where the doctor pointed. ¡°Not really. I mean, I understand. Every breath of air we got here is filtered, and someone smoking in the open is like someone pissing on the watering hole. Its disrespectful, not personally, but societally or something like that. Well, as for you and me, I¡¯m going to have to abuse that patient-doctor exclusivity thing and just do it right here. I hope you won¡¯t judge.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± She replied, scribbling something in her notes, but her tone slipping through her veneer of professionalism told Marcus the opposite. He chuckled, watching as his shrink wrote notes on his datapad with a stylus. The two fell into silence again as Marcus contented himself on inhaling smoke while the doctor went on to taking notes, despite the session being wholly recorded for later review. ¡°Do you have anything, in particular, you want to talk about?¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°I guess better to get this out. Don¡¯t know how much information you have on me, but I¡¯m screwed. I¡¯m deep in debt from getting my brain wirings fixed. I got no job. My qualifications and industry knowledge have long been obsolete, and if I go the manual labor route, anything I could do, a machine could already do better. Sure, my trust had taken a good chunk off the debt but it still wasn¡¯t enough, if it wasn¡¯t for the government social security system, I would already be in the streets, or the case here in Mars, on the corridors begging for every person passing by for any spare change.¡± ¡°I see.¡± She said, scribbling even more. ¡°Would you like assistance in finding a job?¡± ¡°If you could hook me up with one, then I won¡¯t say no.¡± She nodded. ¡°Moving on. Do you have anything to be grateful for?¡± ¡°I¡¯m still alive.¡± ¡°Could you elaborate on that?¡± ¡°This is technically a second life for me. My first ended the moment I got into that cryo chamber and turned into a popsicle. My second began when I got cured. Not many people get to have that chance, so even though I¡¯m in deep shit, I still find myself thinking that I am very lucky for the chance.¡± ¡°I am happy to hear that. Have you been making friends?¡± She said, noting a short scribble on her pad. ¡°Not yet.¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°But I¡¯m thinking of getting one of those reality pods, maybe get some friends that way. Back then, those things were just science fiction, now I could just buy it off the store.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Would be a nice chunk off my cash and it would likely be my last splurge for a long while, but I wasn¡¯t planning on doing anything else either. Maybe I could take my chance at making money playing games. I hear they¡¯re treated like athletes now, unlike back in my time where they¡¯re only considered as entertainers. That, or maybe I could write a book with my time, a first-hand account of someone living two hundred and fifty years in the past and all the bullshit that happened back then. You think someone¡¯s interested in reading the thoughts of just another two hundred and fifty-plus-year-old man?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure someone would find it interesting.¡± She replied noncommittally. Marcus bitterly laughed at that. He knew there was no chance. She smiled just as an alarm beeped, indicating the end of their session. ¡°On your last note, I support that you should try virtual reality. I hear that they could be really fun. And as you say, could be a source of income.¡± ¡°Right, I guess I¡¯m off then. See you next week.¡± Marcus said as he stood up and they shook hands. CH 01: Red Sands Electronics - V2 In a time where everything sold could be delivered on your doorstep, Marcus was glad that physical stores dealing with physical goods displayed still existed in the future. Their catalog of displays might never compare to an online delivery store, but Marcus always preferred to walk into one and feel the product rather than looking at it through a screen. Call him old-fashioned, there was something in being sold by a person standing in front and explaining things to you compared to a sterile video designed to generate the most hype and read the reviews other users have left behind, which are bots more likely than not. A salesperson, in comparison, can give perspective, something that a simple spec sheet or a promotional video will never provide. Red Earth Electronics. It had been the third store Marcus had visited and had to be the biggest so far. Unlike the previous two, who¡¯s ran by a bored old man or an uncaring young man, this store had salesmen prowling the aisles hunting for a customer. Marcus walked to the store and noticed the hum from thousands of pedestrians walking through the underground mall quiet down as soon as he passed through the shop¡¯s threshold. Whether through soundproofing or some other technology, Marcus doesn¡¯t know. He then noticed the chill hip-hop beat played throughout the store and found it pleasant in the background. TVs playing product and game advertisements covered the store¡¯s red-painted and white striped walls. Underneath them, shelves filled with miniaturized accessories and devices lined the walls and made partitions in the store. He passed the shelves containing devices whose use Marcus could only guess, giving them only a passing glance. The aisles ended and space opened up further back in the store, showcasing the more bulky products sold. Marcus didn¡¯t have to guess whether the massive coffin-sized objects anchored on the floor were the virtual reality pod he was looking for. Marcus homed into one in particular. It was a model shaped like an egg. It focused on a minimalist design, simply a cocoon tilted on a pedestal with wires hidden underneath flush panels and construction, a seam lined the longitudinal section of the pod where it would open and looked fit a normal-sized human within its shell. ¡°Hello, sir. How can I help you?¡± A salesman called for Marcus¡¯ attention, surprising him for a second. To Marcus, he simply materialized next to him. ¡°I am Ryphon. Your store representative.¡± He said, offering a handshake. ¡°Right.¡± Marcus muttered as he caught himself and took his hand. ¡°Name¡¯s Marcus. I¡¯m looking into buying one of these VR pods, but the words and numbers written on these specs don¡¯t really mean much to me to be honest. Don¡¯t know which one of these would fit right to what I want.¡± The salesman listened attentively, then pointed to the list of specifications written on the pod. ¡°I see. First is that the specs are required by law and had to be verified as to minimize the proliferation of counterfeit pods. I assure you that all our merchandise are genuine. But in summary, these simply translate to the time you can spend within VR in neural comfort. You can extend your time to eighteen to twenty-four hours with fifteen minute meditation breaks in between sessions. But in the end, the human brain can only stay awake for so long, and you would have to pay one way or another. If you plan to do what I had just said, I recommend you stay within the normal parameters as the techniques I mentioned are only practiced by professional gamers.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± A pro gamer move then, Marcus wanted to say, but kept to himself. ¡°Then what¡¯s the maximum time allowed?¡± ¡°That would be sixteen hours to make way for eight hours of sleep. It was more to reduce strain on the brain than the body.¡± He said, then looked over at Marcus¡¯ physique and tracksuit. ¡°If you would be interested, we also sell exercise machines in one of our branch stores.¡± Marcus chuckled, ¡°I¡¯m more of a free weights guy. So how about these hour ratings, what makes them more expensive compared to the others.¡± ¡°It¡¯s mostly hardware,¡± He said, pressing a button on the side panel. The cover unlocked with a pneumatic hiss, then raised itself with the whirr of electric motors, revealing a human impression left on the interior cushion. ¡°Here you have better furnishings to make sure your body isn¡¯t put into undue stress for laying down too much. Breathable memory foam keeps your body cool while in contact and the vents on the side and the cover supply filtered and conditioned air. These keep you very comfortable during your sessions. And while you¡¯re gaming, the pod will direct current to your muscles, exercising them to prevent muscle atrophy.¡± ¡°Promotional materials claim it is so comfortable, you can sleep in it. I have personally, confirmed that you sleep on it sure, but laying on a bed is still leagues better. The other reason for the expense is the computer hardware installed. Most of the processing power is spent on pushing the least amount of mental stress on the brain. Making it that after a long day of gaming, it doesn¡¯t give you that feeling like you just had your brain fogged out. Termed Brain Fog.¡± ¡°Creative name.¡± Marcus muttered. ¡°The effect varies from person to person. A man like you could spend more hours in game with a lower rated pod until forcefully disconnected due to mental fatigue. But with this, it is a guaranteed fourteen hours minimum of playtime. As for safety, it is rated ten in the human survival metric, which means that you can survive inside the pod for an hour in vacuum, making you virtually safe from the extremely rare cases of decompression.¡± He looked at Marcus, almost proudly. ¡°So, dear sir. What do you make of it? We also provide six months warranty which we could extent to a year for a small fee.¡± ¡®This guy is good¡¯, Marcus thought, but then looked at the price and sighed. The best would take a large chunk of his rainy day funds until his next government allowance. Not to mention his debt that he had to start paying in a year. It was all because the interest rate in the trust set up for him had been outpaced by inflation. To prevent further debt, it was decided by the Martian Government that it would be better to wake people in stasis the moment the cure for their rare diseases has been synthesized, passed, and accredited. Marcus was one of the last ones. His debt had tallied for around a million Martian Republic Credits, or MRC for short. It was the equivalent income of an upper-middle-class family for ten months, given that they don¡¯t spend it on anything else. One MRC would buy a half-liter bottle of water, and ten MRC could get a full meal at a cheap restaurant. For the current Marcus, he would have to pay it for the rest of his life if he kept with his current income stream. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it He had to take the risk. Marcus checked his bank balance and decided. He could make it. He would live off cup ramen if he had to, and he did. Marcus lived the college life. But as for the immediate future, he would have to cut on the quality of his nutrition that was currently budgeted to get his old body back. But just like his father says when buying tools, buy once, cry once. ¡°I¡¯m guessing delivery and installation are free?¡± ¡°Installation is straightforward, but delivery time depends entirely on where you¡¯re currently living. If you¡¯re living close by, we could get yours installed and already playing in your pod this afternoon. Am I right to assume that you¡¯re also taking Burned Asylum with the unit?¡± Marcus spread his arms. ¡°Am I that easy to read?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the newest and most sought after game currently.¡± He shrugged, ¡°Usually, we only have a selection of fantasy games featuring magic, and medieval combat. And with the ban on virtual games featuring 21st century combat lifted last year, people have been clamoring, even demanding on playing something new. Now, it has arrived.¡± That could be an interesting read, Marcus thought. ¡°You guessed right. You can throw that in as a freebie, right?¡± Ryphon gave a shy smile, ¡°Perhaps a discount.¡± ¡°Alright. Write it up, my friend. Though I won¡¯t be taking that extended warranty.¡± Marcus said. ¡°Thank you for your patronage.¡± He smiled. ¡°Please provide your address and we could process the delivery so we could get it as soon as possible.¡± Marcus listed out his address; room 1145, Hab 34, Pavonis II Mons district which gotten him the delivery to be expected first thing in the morning. He handed him his card and was left alone as the salesman processed his purchase. With nothing else to do while waiting for Ryphon to come back, Marcus walked the aisles, looking at the electronics on display, looking to only read but with no interest in purchasing. Marcus was busy watching a promotional trailer for a VR game set in a fantasy setting when he noticed an object next to him. He turned to look, when the floating ball started talking with an electronic voice. ¡°Why is it that humans find being put into stressful situations fun?¡± It was the last thing he would rather meet, a Scion. An alien AI inside an extremely advanced robotic shell. One of the most important events during Marcus¡¯s cold sleep was the confirmation and arrival of physical aliens. Or if one would be so pedantic, digital, given that Scions¡¯ bodies are manufactured robots with their cores running their software so complex and powerful that they were considered as true AI. The identity of their builders was kept closely guarded. The governments, claim that they also do not know and out of respect for the Scions, will not prod further into the question. There are theories, of course, but they all range from full benevolence to sheer paranoia. Marcus read about some of the stuff until he decided that in the end, it didn¡¯t matter that much to a man like him. But it mattered a lot to humanity. The Scions brought with them gifts of technology with the promise of access to them as long as humanity will strive for peace and cooperation. That, along with their proven indestructibility with the current modern methods, they had easily made themselves pose as Humanity¡¯s big brother. And by law, it is illegal to refuse a question or lie to a Scion. Considering that Marcus had just gotten his life back, he would rather prefer spending all his life in freedom than some months in jail. ¡°I just play the games because I like it man, don¡¯t ask me why.¡± He replied, hoping that the alien machine would find his answer adequate and leave. ¡°On the contrary, Mr. Marcus Corvo, I¡¯m sure a person hailing before Scion¡¯s arrival would have an enlightening perspective.¡± The electronic voice replied. ¡°You ask everyone the same question?¡± ¡°On these locations, yes.¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°Look. From a person who just got thawed out of the freezer from hundreds of years in the past, I find shooting guns to be fun, both real and virtual. I hope you already know, but back then, I owned firearms myself. I respect the people who defended our county against enemies, both foreign and domestic. The game systems available to me now are just something to be dreamed about back in my time, so I¡¯d be an idiot to not even try it. Also, I guess the best answer to your question is that its just a game, there you could do things you wouldn¡¯t do in real life. With very little consequence.¡± ¡°Look, you have to keep in mind that I don¡¯t represent my race. That this is just me, but I¡¯d like to try and be in a firefight at least. But that usually have the risk of getting shot and killed, which I¡¯d rather not happen to me. So the closest thing I got to getting into one is in VR. Does this answer your question?¡± ¡°Yes, and I thank you for your cooperation.¡± ¡°Right. Bye.¡± Marcus replied, turning to leave. ¡°Another question.¡± ¡®Fuck.¡¯ Marcus thought. He paused his stride and turned back around. ¡°Alright.¡± ¡°We are aware of your current situation. Would you like us to offer assistance?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Another question.¡± ¡°The answer is that it¡¯s my problem to solve, not yours. Are you familiar with the phrase, none of your business?¡± The scion paused. Marcus looked at the machine as it considered the answer. ¡°There is no other question. Thank you.¡± Marcus watched as the ball floated away from him. Marcus wondered what kind of technology could defy gravity to the extent of what he was witnessing. The shiny ball containing the Scion simply floated between the shelves, never disturbing the objects on display, as if the Scion looked at the current laws of physics and it simply said, ¡®no¡¯. Someone cleared his throat nearby, and Marcus looked over to see that it was Ryphon. He held his card in his hands and gave it back, along with the receipt. ¡°We apologize for the trouble. The Scions rarely visit this store.¡± ¡°Not a problem.¡± Marcus answered, watching as the Scion exited the store and into the sea of people outside. And like a shark inside as a school of fishes, people nearby kept their distance while the Scion simply went on unperturbed. ¡°For the trouble, we have slashed the price of the game to half of the original price, and we have bumped your priority on the delivery.¡± Ryphon added. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll make sure to leave your store a high rating.¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°No sir. Thank you.¡± He smiled. CH 02: Delivery - V2 Beds in the future are awesome. Marcus had been well acquainted with his hospital bed long before being frozen to preserve what was left of his body. Back then, he had contracted ALS, a deadly neurological disease that degenerated his muscle control, practically making him a passenger on his own body. He had watched helplessly as his well-toned physique wasted away and could think of nothing else but his impending death. There was no cure, and there was no hope for recovery. He had accepted it back then, only for him to wake up. The first thing Marcus noticed was the absence of the bedside ventilator¡¯s rhythmic cycling. He fumbled for the nurse call button, but it was missing. Marcus then realized that he could breathe easily on his own. Looking around, he wasn¡¯t in his hospital room. Marcus knew, since he had inadvertently memorized each detail of his room out of sheer boredom. The lowered ceiling panels he had spent months looking up at were gone, replaced by whitewashed panels that looked too clean, even with hospital standards. Light strips were installed in place of the fluorescent panels. The most striking of all was the absence of his life support system, whose clicks and whirrs he had gotten used to and simply faded to the background. His confusion was then cleared when a nurse came and informed him of his situation. At first, Marcus was ecstatic about the news. He was eager to tell his family, despite them likely knowing far in advance, then later informed that he had woken up far into the future. They had put him into extended cryogenic preservation, hoping the future will hold the cure for his fatal disease. It was a desperate effort by his parents. They had set up a fund to keep his body¡¯s maintenance and provide for a means for him to live a life of relative comfort. They then used their own money, along with what Marcus had saved through his engineering career. The same money Marcus handed over to them for his other siblings to use. It turned out that they had just ignored his instructions and went on with their plan. Was it a betrayal of trust? Marcus would ask himself whenever the thought would come up. Marcus reasoned and debated to himself as he lay there in treatment. But in the end, it didn¡¯t matter anymore. Day by day, his command over his body returned, the result of the treatment. He could raise his arm higher when back then when he could only lift his finger. He used his newly gained motor skills to feed himself with the first solid foods he had in the longest time. He was happy and wanted to share the news, but there was no one to share it with. Matilda, the matronly nurse that had informed him of the situation, suggested that he make a letter, hoping that it would make him feel better. She helped Marcus make it. The shaking of his hands made it impossible to write. With tears running down his face, he dictated his thoughts and emotions while Matilda wrote his words on paper. She was off to the side and out of his view when they both wrote the letter, but he knew she was stifling a sniffle as she wrote. Finished, Marcus asked for another request. ¡°Matilda. I would like you to take that letter and burn it.¡± Marcus¡¯ eyes fluttered as the alarm beeped next to his bed. Just like any other dream, he couldn¡¯t remember what it was. He felt refreshed from a comfortable night¡¯s sleep and he turned his gaze towards the window-sized nano pixel TV as it turned on. It showed a scene of a forest so clear and defined that one could easily mistake it for a window. It wasn¡¯t, for the closest forest was a planet¡¯s distance away, and Marcus had to remind himself every morning that he was living on Mars. Mars. The red planet had been colonized and was housing three billion people amongst its underground habitation blocks with a tenth of that in geostationary stations above it. Three hundred million of the three billion lived underground south of Pavonis Mons, where the first Martian space elevator, Titan, stood. Marcus changed the view to the news, talking about something he couldn¡¯t care to listen to. It was more for the background noise as he started his morning with a round of weighted calisthenics, then a shower. He changed to a fresh tracksuit, just as the talking heads on TV were droning about the rising stocks of a company whose name his mind failed to register. He set off outside his apartment for a morning jog and made his way towards the nearby park. Running through the circular tunnels, his breath and heart rate settled on a steady rhythm as he passed by the others walking to the same destination; Jewel Park. He could still remember the first time he tried to run. The weaker gravity of Mars had made seem like he was running underwater. He timed his steps poorly, and he hit the floor at one third the speed on earth but still fully hurt his ego. Once a canyon chosen to store the machines and materials dropped from space, the park started out as the first human habitation on Mars. It quickly grew to be an underground metropolis upon the completion of Titan. And as a commemoration for the location, a plaque had been commissioned and a park resembling New York¡¯s central park was built around it. Measuring a total area shy of a square mile, with its groves of trees and artificial ponds and creeks. Populated by critters and waterfowl, it was truly a jewel of Mars. With sweat staining his brow, Marcus arrived at the park. Children ran screaming full of energy as they chased each other while their parents watched from the benches. Couples walked by hand in hand as they enjoyed one of the few places on the planet where one could enjoy the relatively open space. Above, a reinforced glass canopy sealed the canyon from the still dangerous Martian atmosphere. If conditions were right, one could look up and see Titan reaching up far into the sky. Whenever there are reports of clear skies, people would visit the park to watch as the elevator cars carried its cargo into space. Marcus slowed his pace as his breath started to run out. He was glad that the future didn¡¯t turn out to be like the dystopian novels written in his time. Gone was the dreary and depressing atmosphere presented in those fictions. Where corporations became too large and too powerful to be moderated by their respective governments and instead became a form of oppressive government itself. Stolen novel; please report. In the end, humanity was the opposite of that. Despite the capabilities of humanity to destroy and oppress each other with the hate that spanned thousands of years, humanity settled their differences instead. Maybe the robotic aliens had a hand in it, Marcus thought to himself. But the extent of their involvement would have to be debated. As it is likely none other than the highest positions in the governments would have access to such a piece of information. And if the past was any indication of the present, they would not be keen on sharing it with the public. Marcus pulled out his phone as his pocket vibrated. Even in this future, phones were still the size of your palm. Even though technology advanced to where one could fit in a fingertip, the question lies on how someone could use something so small. The answer would be physical augmentations, which could have brought a future reminiscent of a cyberpunk genre. That is, until an incident dubbed the Whitefire crisis occurred. People with implants had their devices compromised due to a computer virus named the Whitefire. Theorized to be the workings of an elite team of Purist hackers, the virus targeted the augmentation¡¯s software and allowed the hackers unlimited access to their victims. Everything the people see and hear, the hackers could also see and hear. There were also speculations about them being able to read the minds of their victims and influence their thoughts to some extent. The scare which followed had the desired effect of the attack, which caused enough of a scare to the populace that it caused the physical technological augmentation sector to crumble into dust. Marcus unlocked the phone to a text message. It was from the store and it read that the delivery was coming, that he should expect the arrival within the hour, causing him to rush back home to make double checks of his preparations for his VR pod. With a beep, the door unlocked to a silent and barely furnished apartment. It had a bed, a TV and a small folding chair. Marcus still hadn¡¯t gotten into sprucing the place up since whenever he thought of it. It was never that much of a priority back then, especially now with his current situation. His apartment isn¡¯t much, not much at all, but a man can live with even less. Marcus started preparing his breakfast in the small kitchen. It was one of the main reasons he took this apartment, even though it was an old one, as often the newer ones don¡¯t have any kitchen area. People of the future just preferred to order food from establishments or eat out. The lack of groceries in the area made it difficult for Marcus to even find ingredients for his kitchen. This forced him to resort to finding suppliers themselves and buying morsels compared to what the suppliers were used to dealing with. Still, it was a worthwhile effort to eat something you prepared. Marcus had just finished a plate of reconstituted scrambled eggs when his doorbell chimed, right on the dot when it was due to be delivered. Looking through the display by the door, two men stood in the hallway wearing overalls bearing the Red Earth Electronic logo. Behind them was a large box strapped on a robotic truck. ¡°Delivery and installation for Marcus Corvo?¡± The man on the screen asked. ¡°That¡¯s right, come in,¡± Marcus replied. The magnetic locks whirred as he deactivated them and opened the door. The two technicians entered, nodding, followed by the robotic truck, its motors whirred from the weight of its load. ¡°Put it over there, I already cleared the spot.¡± ¡°Is this your first time owning a VR, sir?¡± the lead man asked while the other busied himself in testing the nearby outlet. ¡°Yeah. I might need some instructions on how to use it.¡± Marcus replied, watching the truck tilt its bed. It laid the box on the ground with such care that Marcus wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the same robot transported delicate objects to other places. ¡°It¡¯s just a simple plug and play sir.¡± The technician grunted, pulling at the box to reveal the egg-shaped VR Pod in his living room. Pressing buttons on the panel, the lid opened up where the technician waved over for Marcus to come over and show him something. ¡°The pods usually have backup power in case of power interruption. They are rare, but when it happens, you will be automatically booted out of the game and the pod would already be opened by then. But with the very small chance of the backup power failing during a power interruption, there is an emergency cord connected to a latch that unlocks the lid manually. After that, you would have to push the lid up yourself or kick it open. Don¡¯t worry about damage in that situation, it¡¯s covered by the manufacturer¡¯s warranty. It¡¯s the cord over there.¡± The technician pointed to the opened pod. Right next to where his hand would be if he was laying inside was a red-colored cord with warnings stenciled along the length. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it failing. It¡¯s a physical connection and had been tested in the factory and in the store. Other than that, please contact the store for any problems you encounter.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Marcus asked, incredulous. His microwave back then had more instructions to use. ¡°There is not much you are supposed to do with the physical pod. The rest of the setup is to be done during VR. That¡¯s when the machine would calibrate itself to be connected to you. After that, you can change all the settings within your VR experience. It¡¯s practically idiot-proof.¡± ¡°Well, you haven¡¯t seen my level of idiot.¡± Marcus grinned, joking. The two politely chuckled. ¡°So, do I just call the store whenever I have an issue?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the arrangement. As long as it¡¯s within warranty, that is.¡± The technician nodded. ¡°Though don¡¯t expect anything to break, these things are built to last. It is rated at a human survival factor of ten, which meant that you could survive thirty minutes inside a blazing fire while inside the pod, along with an hour within a vacuum. As long as they weren¡¯t built broken, don¡¯t expect them to break.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good to hear, although I¡¯ve yet to meet a woman that would set me on fire.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised.¡± One of the other technicians piped in. Then cleared his throat. ¡°The connections are good. I¡¯ll be installing now, sir.¡± ¡°One question, how big is the game for you to install it like that.¡± Marcus noted as the technicians pulled out a large storage device that contained the game. It looked like an NES cartridge, from the size and the shape. He opened a panel underneath the pod and fitted it snugly to the slots. Marcus peeked in and saw that there were four slots in total. ¡°A few Exabytes,¡± the technician shrugged. ¡°Three-point-one, to be exact. The casing is to protect the data crystals inside, which are very brittle, and also acts as a tamper detection for the device. It is advised to steer clear of any data modules you encounter with their seals broken.¡± So, just like flash drives you find in the parking lot. Marcus thought. ¡°Am I right then to think that installation is just slotting the right game modules in?¡± ¡°That¡¯s correct, sir.¡± The technician nodded. ¡°So what¡¯s next?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll make diagnostic tests, then commissioning. We would then be on our way.¡± ¡°Alright then, knock yourselves out.¡± Marcus replied, to which the two looked at him in confusion. ¡°It¡¯s an old saying. It means to do what you need to do.¡± CH 03: First session - Initialization - V2 Marcus led the two technicians out as they finished installing and certifying the pod. With the clack of heavy deadbolts, Marcus felt secure. Installing the locks was the first thing he did when he moved in, as he was aware of how much he was out of touch on the level of security of his electronic lock provided. Locks might be picked or hacked, but a deadbolt cannot. Following the instructions left by the technicians, he turned on the pod and watched as it booted up. Motors whirred as the door opened on its own, revealing the padded space within. Settling himself inside, it had the distinct new car smell as the mattress formed itself to his body. He closed the panel as a moment of claustrophobia threatened to rear its ugly head, only to be mitigated by a cool breeze blowing through the vents from the Pod¡¯s internal climate control. Marcus looked around, expecting something to happen, only for him to feel himself falling as his vision closed to a point.
First Time Synchronization and Neural Calibration
Please focus on the dot for ten seconds...
Marcus read the notification, but ignored it for the moment. Looking down, he could only see his avatar¡¯s feet and found that he could not move his body yet. The feeling was uncannily familiar. He followed the instruction and looked directly at the dot shown floating in front of him. Next was a series of instructions which Marcus followed, testing what he could assume was his connection to the machine. He kept the dot centered in his vision as it moved from side to side, then diagonally. More tests went on, like hearing, reaction time, and others. It felt like the human benchmark test Marcus had done many times back then. Next were the motor tests. Marcus was tasked to walk, run, sprint to a location to stop on a designated spot, turn on a dime, and dodge projectiles. It even required him of mimicking poses that reminded him of the Kinect era. Marcus had to be honest. It had been tedious at the beginning but turned out to be quite fun, all for the novelty of it. He hadn¡¯t even started the game yet.
Congratulations!
Pod synchronization at 100%
With the pod calibration ended, the light dimmed to a more gentle tone, and the game selection screen popped up. The single thumbnail showed a devastated land with a man armed with an SVD Dragunov slung on his back, clad in patchwork gear and camouflage, looked on to the devastated landscape. Title showing, [Burned asylum] Unlike the games Marcus had been used to, there was no splash screen or cinematic, and no main menu. It directly led him to the character creation screen. Marcus wasn¡¯t that big on character creation. Usually, he just pressed the random creation, or the presets repeatedly until he found a model which he liked well enough. As for gender, Marcus usually picked male when playing first-person games and female when playing third. What can he say, he appreciates a nice ass, especially the one he selected. This time, there was no selection option for gender. ¡®No chance of catfishing there,¡¯ Marcus thought to himself.
Attention!
Would you like to use your current physique as your avatar? [Y/N] [More Information]
Curious, Marcus picked the inquiry, and another notification popped up.
More Information:
The game will follow your current physique and use it as your in-game avatar your facial features will not be included for privacy. Your body will be re-scanned monthly and your avatar will change accordingly. This is in compliance with MRA: 1733. [More information]
An option to copy his current physical stature? But why the included law number? He clicked on more information. What followed is a twenty-page long law. Curious, Marcus skimmed through the subjects covered. It was mainly to reward the physical maintenance of its citizens by encouraging their players to receive an incentive if their player characters are considered fit. It sounded like a dumb law, but there has to be a reason for it to pass through the rigorous requirements of passing one, right? Marcus opted-in, considering that he planned to get out of his skinny form anyway and sculpt his body to a more fit physique. The System then showed him his avatar with the current scan of his body wearing a face that was not his own, doing a T pose. Marcus couldn¡¯t help but have a proud chuckle. He had woken up with a body of a holocaust survivor, his muscles atrophied from the damage brought by his neurological condition. Now, Marcus had put in a bit of weight, enough to be called slim, maybe thin, depending on who¡¯s looking, and looking more to the lighter side of a healthy human being. A sliver of belly fat was the cost of the month-long bulking process following his recovery. It was a price Marcus was eager to pay, as he could easily trim the fat with some proper nutrition and more exercise. As for his face, it was alright, a normal-looking white man with light blonde hair. He was not keen on putting as much care into his looks, but adding a scar running down from the corner of his eye to his cheek was too cool to pass up. Add a bit of stubble, and he was good to go.
Attention!
Allocate your stats. Points available: 10
Physical Stats
Strength Endurance Constitution Dexterity
1 1 1 1
Affects carry weight, sprinting speed, striking damage, and throwing range. Affects rate of stamina consumption and the rate of recovery. Affects breath holding time and breath recovery. Affects total hit points. Determines the chance of surviving a wound by decreasing the rate of bleeding through wounds, both internal and external. Determines the ease of handling weapons and tools. Decreases the chance of fumbling.
[Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty]
From his experience of playing MMOs back in his childhood, Marcus knew this was where one of the few crossroads where someone could make or break their builds. A casual looking to play the game for fun would just pick the stats they fancy and allocate from there. But with Marcus, he needed a solid build for his character. The stats were straightforward. All were a tradeoff between speed, stamina, health, and manipulation. Unlike the MMOs he had played, there were no wikis available on the web. Any information likely has to go through a paywall, so Marcus either had to pay up for information that might turn out useless, or find it by himself. The game claimed its devotion to being as realistic as possible. Which meant that Marcus¡¯ previous experience could prove worthwhile to implement. From his experience participating in two gun competitions, he knew cardio was a critical part of getting to the top as aiming. Most people don¡¯t know, but breathing could mess up your aim as easily as a shaky pair of arms. This meant that holding your breath is important for a steady aim. But if someone was running from, say, cover to cover, then they could be winded by the time they reach their destination and would have a very shaky aim by then. Of course, one could also time their shots between their breaths, but that needed practice. A lot of practice. As for Constitution, that is where Marcus¡¯ real-life knowledge stops. He was never shot before, nor had a bullet land close to him, but it would be safe to say that the higher the stat, the higher chance of someone surviving being shot. The description was not specific to the extent of its effects or what caliber would take someone out at what endurance level. He had to risk it, but the stat took the least priority for him. He didn¡¯t plan on being shot in the first place. For dexterity, he was torn. The description said that the stat affects the ease of handling weapons. But does it mean that it extends to the personal knowledge of handling the weapons themselves? The description didn¡¯t elaborate.
Attention!
Allocate your stats. Points available: 0
Physical Stats
Strength Endurance Constitution Dexterity
4 5 2 3
Affects carry weight, sprinting speed, striking damage, and throwing range. Affects rate of stamina consumption and the rate of recovery. Affects breath holding time and breath recovery. Affects total hit points. Determines the chance of surviving a wound by decreasing the rate of bleeding through wounds, both internal and external. Determines the ease of handling weapons and tools. Decreases the chance of fumbling.
[Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty]
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Usually, when games show something simple, it always ends up being much more complicated later on. As of now, Marcus had to focus on what he could foresee as something he would need in his immediate future. His reasonings were thus: Strength: 4 He needed to carry his gear, guns, and ammunition with him along with the loot he will surely bring back with him. Endurance: 5 Just like he said, cardio is the key to success. There is a reason soldiers run every morning and forced to march long distances. They needed to get to their positions without being out of breath, or worse, exhausted. Constitution: 2 One point into the stat. This might make him into a glass cannon, but who isn¡¯t at level one. Dexterity: 3 This is where he dumped the rest of his points. He didn¡¯t know to what extent the stat could benefit him in the game, but the description gave enough information for him to not miss out on it.
Attention!
Establish your character''s history. Points available: 15
Traits
Childhood Flaws Previous Profession Hobbies
[Expand] [Expand] [Expand] [Expand]
Marcus read through the myriad of choices on each slot and racked his brain on the best combination for his intended build. He needed a solid fighter, as going through raids was likely the fastest way of getting loot. Unfortunately, the combat-specific traits cost so many points to acquire that it forces the player to take up debilitating negative traits in exchange. Marcus didn¡¯t want to be a stim addict in the game despite the trait point tradeoff. The trait had the risk of losing player control when experiencing withdrawals. So he had to take cheaper options. The traits that could only support his character and give him the slight edge in a fight, not something that has to be relied on entirely. Besides, it is not like he planned on fighting every time. PVE and PVP could get old quick, and Marcus wanted to enjoy as much of the game as he could without it being a chore. Still, it was his plan to take advantage of the normalized and regulated RMT. To make money off playing the game and selling items to people who need them. In the games he played before, the wealthiest players were not the ones who shoot the most expensive bullets or wore the best gear, it was the modest player who supported the PVP addicts and simply went home with the cash while the others shoot money towards each other.
Attention!
Establish your character''s history. Points available: 0
Traits
Childhood Flaws Previous Profession Hobbies
Highschool Athlete (-6) Childhood modifier. 1.1x Endurance, 1.1x Strength. Smoker (+4) Addiction modifier. Cravings modifier affect .8x Dexterity stat. Addiction modifiers need constant satiation or suffer withdrawal symptoms. Musician (-6) Profession modifier. 1.1x Dexterity. The charisma stat bonus depends on the quality of performance and the number of audiences. Jogger (-7) Conditional modifier. 1.2x Endurance. Requires regular jogging.
Attention!
Are you sure you are finished with Character Creation? Changes will be permanent after this point. [Y/N]
Finally done with his pick, Marcus picked yes.
Choose your spawn location:
[Expand]
Marcus spent a bit of time sifting through the locations. There are a multitude of spawn locations; military bases, corporate facilities, colonial holdings, and even unaffiliated holdouts. All corresponded to the available factions; United Sol Navy, Walt Industries, People¡¯s republic of Terminus, and Renegades. There were other minor factions, but were unavailable to choose from at the start. Factions like the Oasis, a scientific faction whose focus is researching anomalous phenomena on the planet. Interchange Alliance, a group of merchant companies banding together to make as much money on the planet as possible. There were even bandits, hostile to all, even their own. Marcus wasn¡¯t keen on joining the major factions just yet, so he chose the UNCS Light of the Stars as a starting location. It intrigued him, a massive colony ship that crashed in the middle of a city. It also didn¡¯t hurt that the area is under the Renegades, a true neutral faction unaligned to anybody. There was no falling sensation as he was taken out of the customization and into the game. To Marcus, it felt like simply waking up from a dream. A notification floated in front of him.
The beginning of your journey.
You saw the opportunity, and you took it. You embarked on a years-long journey, frozen in stasis, and woke up to the war already at a ceasefire pending negotiation where opportunities reared their heads. You decided whether you will help with the reconstruction or help the other factions, ensuring that the next conflict will be the last and yours as the last one standing.
Your father''s guitar.
Leaving your previous job as a bar musician in a small town, you took everything you had and sold the rest except for your father''s beaten guitar he had passed down to you. Too bulky for luggage, you had it sent separately in a fast hauler to arrive before your arrival. Quest type: Personal Quest Requirements: Track your package and retrieve it.
Marcus finished reading the texts when he was suddenly rocked from the side. He was in a strange room, and there were other players with him, strapped to their seats, either sleeping, waking up, or busy looking around. Unsecured objects fell from the ceiling, hitting the deck plating and adding to the cacophony. Flame licked the edge of the window on the other side, and Marcus turned his head over to his own window just to see the curvature of a planet. ¡°Cool,¡± Marcus muttered as he realized he was being dropped from space and into the atmosphere. Through the porthole, the dark side of the planet loomed in the distance. Pinpricks of light dotted the inky blackness. Settlements, Marcus reasoned, but it was unlikely that they would be dropped there. Marcus struggled through his restraints. The straps dug into his shoulders as he tried to see more out the small window and realized how playing could easily be mistaken for the real world. Everything felt natural. There was not a trace of the uncanny valley present in every computer-generated movement. Everything was smooth, sudden, and jerky, but never unnatural. Those sci-fi authors might be right about something; reality could be a simulation. ¡°Attention passengers. We have now hit the atmosphere and are at an assisted glide towards the location.¡± The PA announcement cut through the noise just as the turbulence subsided. What¡¯s left was a steady whine as the craft leveled and flew. Looking out once more, Marcus could see only a devastated landscape with little greenery. Buildings from long destroyed settlements and shattered skyscrapers with their metal frame exposed to the elements. ¡°Hey what¡¯s your name? Want to go into a competent team?¡± Someone yelled through the din. Marcus looked over to the source to find a man leaning forwards as much as his straps could let him, trying to talk to a woman who looked to be far from having it. ¡°Not interested.¡± She replied. ¡°I already got a team waiting for me.¡± ¡°Are they any good? I¡¯m sure if you roll with my squad, we could get to where you want faster. Just tell me what you want.¡± ¡°Sorry. Really not interested.¡± She said with a wave. ¡°How about you? You looking for a team? My guys are pretty high level. We could hook you up. You know, us renegades have to help each other.¡± the man said, changing his attention to Marcus. He looked behind him to make sure that he was talking to him, only to confirm that he was. All the other player characters had their eyes closed and heads swaying from the intermittent bumps their vehicle was experiencing. He looked back to the man only then to notice that the girl was shaking her head, subtle enough to be unnoticed by the man in front of him. ¡°Sorry man. I¡¯m not really looking for a group at the moment. I¡¯m thinking of walking around for just a bit. Take a feel of the location before logging out.¡± Marcus replied, shrugging. The man smiled but didn¡¯t reply. Marcus could see in his eyes that he was far from being interested. He was simply saving himself from the rejection by making it seem like he was just recruiting randoms. ¡°Attention passengers. We are coming up for landing.¡± With a rising whine coming from the engines, Marcus felt his spine compress as the lander arrested its downward glide with a quick burst of its thrusters. He looked back out of the window to see a massive ship crashed in the middle of a city. It left a track of devastation that didn¡¯t care about anything before it, buildings, roads, everything was destroyed, along with the ship itself. The Ship¡¯s stern snapped off, likely because of the crash, but the aft portion of the ship was relatively intact and was where the lander looked to be heading. Another piercing whine. This time, much louder and higher pitch than before. Marcus felt the weight on his back as the lander decelerated further and felt the landing more on his back as the craft touched down with a metallic thud. ¡°We have arrived at the UNCS Light of the Stars. Welcome to Terminus 3. Good luck.¡± With a hiss, the door to his right opened downward, doubling as a ramp where the harsh light of the noonday sun shone brightly. Marcus had to squint even though he was still inside as the bright sun peeked through the hangar¡¯s roofs and reflecting against the deck plating. The passengers unclasped their harnesses and stood up. Marcus followed. He trailed down the gangway and out of the shade, only for him to feel the sting of the sun¡¯s rays as it hit his skin. He wondered if he could get a sunburn on this game and if it would be just as annoying as the real one. He looked around and found that they landed on an overhang built to the side of the ship. It gave a panoramic view of the devastated city below. The city looked to be uninhabited despite it looking like it had once been bustling. He wondered why and was sure there had to be a lore reason for it. Around him, other landers were landing and disgorging their passengers into the metal floor of a large open hangar. Getting away from the noise, he went inside and into the shade. Lights blared overhead, hanging from the ceiling. A high-pitched whining noise pierced through the present din. Marcus looked over to the source and saw another lander hover in place and shoot out of the hangar and into the sky. It resembled much of the scenes in the movies and video games where landers would take off vertically from the deck, then take off into space. Players converged on one of the corridors, so he followed along. This place was likely to be a noob area, so there should be an abundance of tips and tutorials designed for people like Marcus; clueless people. He spotted the woman going to the same place. He fast-walked, homing towards her to catch up. She gave him a glance, but walked on. Curious, he sidled next to the woman and asked. ¡°So, why did you flash me that sign?¡± ¡°I know those kinds of people, they¡¯re trouble just looking to take advantage of you. But if you¡¯re really keen on joining his group, then I wouldn¡¯t stop you. Just don¡¯t come to me saying that I didn¡¯t warn you.¡± ¡°Thank¡¯s for the concern. But that man is laying it on too thick.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Good for you to know basic common sense. Just don¡¯t be the type of guy who learns very little from doing something very stupid. Well, here are my guys.¡± She said, pointing over to a group of men standing by the side, eyeing him. ¡°It would be best if you pass through the shooting range to make sure the first gun you buy would turn out to be the one you want. Good luck.¡± ¡°Thanks for the advice.¡± Marcus watched as the unnamed woman walked away. The other men kept their eye on him, moving out of the woman¡¯s way. They gave him a slight nod and followed after. ¡°Thanks for nothing, really.¡± He muttered. CH 04: First Session - The ship
Name: Hartdegen Race: Human Player ID: 4374711912965355
Level: 1 Experience: 0/100 [Equipment and Inventory]
Health: 120/120
Stamina: 100/100 [Quests]
Shield: 0/0
Fame: 0 (Nobody) Nutrition: Fine [Traits and Skills]
Affiliation: Renegades Hydration: Fine
Stats
Str End Cons Dex
4 (1.1) 5 (1.3) 2 3 (1.1)
Cha [Empty] [Empty] [Empty]
0
Attention:
This notice is to remind that you have currently spent 2 hours in VR.
With all the sounds, sights, and other senses in this game, Marcus could see how someone could find themselves too immersed to forget the passage of time. In fact, if not for the notification, he wouldn''t have realized that he had spent a couple of hours in-game and only think that he had just been inside for a small fraction of that. Alone, Marcus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of rust mixed with machine exhaust and unburnt fuel from the landers coming in and taking off filtered through his nostrils. It reminded him of his Uncle¡¯s machine shop he worked at during his high school days. A fresh breeze came through the overhang where the ship opened up, brought with it the grittiness of pulverized concrete. Marcus looked out. The overhang gave an astounding view of the devastated city, of which the ship was smack in the middle. It was arid. There was almost no greenery within view, with the ship being the only obvious human habitation within sight. With nothing else to see, Marcus went further inside. He walked past a lander unloading its occupants who were streaming towards the hall in the end. Marcus followed along without a word. Nobody minded him as all were busy with their conversations among the others within their group. At the end of the short hall, they reached a heavy double door. It opened up to a bustling marketplace. Players walked amongst the NPCs, distinct from their mishmash of gear and weapons on their backs compared to the NPCs who simply wore normal clothes, unbothered by the heavily armed pedestrians. The interior space was massive. If not for Marcus witnessing that he was landing in a ship during the approach, he would have mistaken this place for somewhere else. The central avenue where people walked could easily accommodate two trucks moving alongside each other. Buildings reaching up three floors lined the avenue, stalls, and stores occupied their ground floor facing the center where the pedestrians funneled through. The upper floors looked to be private dwellings, and from where he stood, Marcus could see hotels, bars, even signs for bathhouses, which looked to cater more for the NPCs rather than players.
[Equipment]
Earpiece headgear Face Cover Chest Rig Radio
[Empty] [Empty] [Empty] [Empty] [Empty]
Eyes
[Empty] Backpack Special
[Empty] [Empty]
Primary
[Empty]
Clothing
Field Gray Overalls, Basic Boots
Secondary
[Empty]
Holster Scabbard
[Empty] [Empty]
Weight Armor rating Shield
[Empty] [Empty] [Empty]
''Pretty much a whole lot of nothing'', Marcus thought to himself.
[Inventory]
Pockets Backpack (Not Equipped) Vests (Not Equipped)
Post office claim slip - -
Credit Chit This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Value: 10000 Credits - -
Weight: 0.00 Kg Bulk: 0.00 Units
The smell of searing meat drifting through the air was enough for Marcus to look away from his screen towards the source. Meats skewered on sticks are cooked under burning hot coals whose smoke trailed up to an exhaust hood, connected to pipes that led outside the ship. Even with the smoke mitigation, the aroma of the food was not to be contained. The matronly shopkeeper running the grill noticed Marcus looking and asked. ¡°Would you like to buy some, young man? I marinated it in a special sauce overnight.¡± ¡°It smells good,¡± Marcus admitted, licking the corner of his mouth, wiping away the drool that threatened to trail out of it. ¡°Looks good too.¡± It had been too long since he tasted grilled meat. He had done his best to track down some restaurant that served them, but with Mars¡¯ recycled air, Marcus doubted if it was even legal to cook with charcoal within the planet. ¡°But does it taste as good as it looks, though?¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re breaking my heart, young man. I wouldn¡¯t dare sell any of my food and set up a stall if it weren¡¯t tasty.¡± ¡°I gotta warn you, I have high standards when judging grilled meat. I might break your heart even more.¡± ¡°Well, you should be glad to hear that I also have high standards when cooking them.¡± She smiled, "Probably even higher than yours." ¡°Okay. Should I know what these meats are then? Or is it better if I don¡¯t find out?¡± She grinned. ¡°I think it¡¯s better if I tell you later. Would you want to try one out? I¡¯ll give you a bit to taste for free. See if they will fit your taste.¡± ¡°Whenever I hear first taste is free, it comes from dealers pushing drugs. First time to hear that coming from lovely a woman selling grilled meat on a stall.¡± She laughed, picking a sharpened stick from a cup and skewered a piece that just finished cooking. ¡°They''re only for sweet young men with high tastes. People do buy a couple more after they get a piece in their mouths. So it¡¯s a risk you¡¯ll have to take, young man. I can tell you it''s just as addictive as any other drug.¡± Marcus took the skewered meat and inspected it. The meat glistened under the artificial lights, with a faint trail of steam rising from the slightly charred exterior. ¡®Goddamn.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. ¡®Even food got this level of detail.¡¯ He sniffed and ate the entire piece, closing his eyes as he tasted the sweet-flavored meat seasoned with crushed peppers and spices of which Marcus couldn¡¯t place. He sighed. It had been too long since he tasted something so good, even if it was artificial. ¡°Gotta say, it¡¯s pretty good. So can I know what it is?¡± ¡°It¡¯s pork, young man. My sons raise them outside the city.¡± The lady replied, smiling.
Attention!
Gather Information Check Successful: +1 Charisma
¡°I should get you for pushing this drug on me." Marcus muttered, loud enough for the lady to hear, "Okay, I¡¯ll buy one. I¡¯ll maybe come back for another later.¡± Marcus said, pulling out the Credit Chit from his inventory and scanning it on the till. With a beep, the transaction came through. Marcus watched and waited as the stall owner wrapped up an already cooked skewer. ¡°You know, I just got here, so I¡¯m just curious. What happened in this city?¡± ¡°War happened young man. You can have a seat over there.¡± She sighed, pointing to the stools near a small counter on the side. One was occupied by a bearded NPC who looked at him and simply nodded.
Attention!
Charisma Check Failed. You do not meet the required Relations Level with the NPC Gather Information Check Failed Relations Level unaffected
Marcus took the seat, feeling the cozy atmosphere with the small radio playing some music added with the background droning of other people in the background. He took another bite, enjoying the juiciness of the piece, and could see himself being a regular at this place. Deep in thought, he theorized that the NPC relations are as important to getting information out of NPCs as the Charisma stat. He shrugged, ''it made sense, given as no general would tell a passing rockstar state secrets or military dispositions even though how much he liked the guy.'' It was also apparently a hidden stat, but not that much difficult to find out as it would be easy to discern your current level if some NPC tells you to piss off. ¡°Here, have something to drink too.¡± The lady said, coming over and handing him a cup of water and a cold pitcher. Marcus ate while he read. Just like every MMO game, it needed money sinks. Hunger and thirst is a simple feature to sink money into. Marcus wouldn¡¯t be surprised if there would also be taxes put on players owning properties in the game. ¡®Ammo would be a good place too,¡¯ Marcus thought to himself as he finished his skewer and finished the skewer along with the cup of water. ¡°Thanks for the food. But I gotta go.¡± He said, nodding and returning the cup and throwing the rest into the trash. ¡°Be careful out there young man.¡± The stall keeper replied.
Attention!
Food and drink play an important role in Burned asylum. A player¡¯s ability to naturally regenerate health and stamina depends on his level of nutrition and hydration. Natural regeneration will stop if the levels get too low, forcing the player to depend solely on medicine and stimulants for recovery. Some food and drink give bonuses.
Attention:
Food Buff: Well Fed Modifier +10% Health and Stamina Regeneration
Marcus left the stall and continued down the avenue. Looking at the map, it turned out that the level below is where the Armory and the shooting range are located, that along with the post office which should lead to the completion of his personal quest. Finding a cargo lift leading down, Marcus joined in on the rest of his fellow low leveled players, distinct from the others by their gray overalls. With a heavy clank, the security doors closed. The gaps between the metal gave a full view outside the elevator. It slowly lowered itself into the floor, showing thick cables running underneath, then opening up to reveal another massive compartment inside the ship. Tarp-covered trucks lined alongside armored cars and tracked vehicles. All were parked alongside each other in a closed-off area in the middle of the compartment. Weapons were mounted on the trucks, ranging from 12.7mm M2 brownings and 14.7mm Dushkas for the smaller vehicles up to Bushmaster chain guns and artillery pieces for the larger tracked vehicles. A collective ¡®whoa¡¯ sounded out of everyone¡¯s mouths, for which Marcus could only agree. He had the same reaction when he saw his first tank in a show, back when he was still a kid. The elevator reached the bottom. Everyone inside filled out. Some continued towards the Armory, while the rest lingered to check up on the vehicles. Marcus was part of the latter group and came closer to the line of vehicles to have a better view, only for a shrill whistle to stop him in his tracks. A man wearing an armored vest, camouflaged in a digital gray white pattern, sat behind an M2 Browning machinegun. He pointed to the line painted on the floor ahead of Marcus. He got the message and nodded, content on watching the vehicles from the distance and not getting shot over it. There were Humvees, JLTVs, and even some of their Russian counterparts like the BMP and TIGR vehicles. All were painted in the same gray, white digital camouflage. There were other vehicles too, whose design Marcus couldn¡¯t point out which could be something other countries used in their armies or have not yet been made back then when he was still awake. A soldier wearing a similar pattern stood to the side, watching the gawkers as they got an eyeful and went on with their way. Cradled in his arms is a PKM machinegun, his eyes shifting through the armored glass of his Atlyn helmet. ¡°You guys look pretty set up,¡± Marcus asked as he approached. ¡°You mind telling me which group you guys belong to?¡± ¡°Interchange.¡± The soldier answered, looking to be already full of it. Likely from answering the same questions from hundreds of other curious people. ¡°We''re part of a trade convoy running supplies. Were not looking for recruits, and if you got anything else to ask, you would have to talk to that guy over there.¡± He said, nodding over to the man behind the machinegun. He looked up at the machine gunner as he met his gaze and put his hands over the M2''s spade grips. ¡°Thanks then. Have a good day.¡± Marcus replied then walked away. He was only after a casual conversation anyway, and in no terms wasn¡¯t looking to join any other faction at the moment.
Your father''s guitar.
Leaving your previous job as a bar musician in a small town, you took everything you had and sold the rest except for your father''s beaten guitar he had passed down to you. Too bulky for luggage, you had it sent separately in a fast hauler to arrive before your arrival. Quest type: Personal Quest Requirements: Track your package and retrieve it.
The post office was next to the vehicle bay and was easy to find. Its doors slammed open as a group left. The look on their faces painted the same emotion, pissed. Curious, Marcus entered and was met by a haggard-looking man who forced a tired smile on his arrival. He stood on the other side of the counter, with bars separating his side from the customers. Behind the man, Marcus could see the shelves empty. Marcus looked around as he approached the counter. The benches provided for waiting customers were thrashed. The plastic seats bolted into the steel frame had been shattered and thrown around the room. A trashcan had been upended, and the contents scattered. ¡°Let me guess, my package isn¡¯t here.¡± He said, giving the slip for his claim. ¡°We¡¯re terribly sorry, sir. No package has arrived for a week. We are currently tracking them down, but they seem to have been misplaced by the dispatch facility. We are currently awaiting if there are any developments but it is uncertain whether our post will receive the whole or even part of the packages.¡± Marcus should¡¯ve guessed. The quest¡¯s description was too straightforward to be simple. ¡°So no package then? I guess that explains the ¡®renovations¡¯ done here.¡± ¡°We are terribly sorry, sir.¡± The man said, defeated. ¡°No worries, I¡¯m sure it will come out in the future, one way or another,¡± Marcus replied, turning back. "You know what, I think you should just put a sign up front rather than talking directly to people and getting shit for it," he said as he left. The man might be an NPC, built by code to mimic a person, but the look of defeat in the man¡¯s face looked so genuine that Marcus even felt sorry for the guy. Still, his quest hasn¡¯t been failed yet, which meant that he could still complete it. CH 05: First session - The armory Marcus passed by the Apparel shop on the way to the Armory. The open glass windows showed a mannequin on full display, equipped with what Marcus would describe as Gucci gear. It resembled much of the 5.11 and other gear company stalls during Shot Show. A part of him wanted to go in and take a look inside the shop but kept walking. He knew he couldn¡¯t afford anything past some cheap gear like the type 56 chest rig, the one effectively worn and popularized by multiple videos of the Vietcong. Going further down the halls, Marcus could hear the Shooting Range a good way''s away. The report of gunfire echoing through the halls was staggering. The sound melded into each other that anyone would be forgiven for mistaking a firefight breaking out on the other side. He followed the sounds to the Range. The door leading to it having a player made a sign saying: ''Anyone caught stealing will be put into the kill on sight list. Don¡¯t say you weren¡¯t warned and didn¡¯t see the signs. It doesn¡¯t matter.'' Intrigued, Marcus opened the door and was surprised to see bright daylight and an open view off the broken part of the ship. Shooting stalls reaching three stories faced the open aft end of the ship and were filled with players shooting rifles of different calibers. Looking out into the distance, Marcus could see the targets painted along the rent of devastation left by the ship¡¯s crash. Thousands of tons of ship dragging itself on the ground as it broke apart gave a clear line of sight reaching up to a mile, with the debris scattered as it broke apart made up the targets themselves. Marcus walked down the stalls, noting the lack of Newbie grays and the diverse selection of guns the players were using. He recognized a couple of Desert Tech rifles along with some Accuracy Internationals mixed in with a variety of precision rifles. But even with the superb rifles, Marcus doubted any of the players could manage to consistently hit targets past five hundred yards. Their fundamentals were abysmal, jerky triggers, improper eye relief, among others. He continued walking when he noticed the suspicious look people were sending him. With his newbie gray, it was easy to assume that they think he was there to steal. ¡°You lost there newbie?¡± A player wearing patchwork camo asked, blocking his way further. He was tall and was well built. Marcus had to look up just to see his overly scarred face. ¡°Or are you here for something else?¡± He continued. Unwilling to be intimidated, Marcus shrugged, casually looking to the side. ¡°Just looking around. I was wondering about the amount of gunfire, but it seemed like most were just too busy missing targets.¡± ¡°Look. Take this as free advice.¡± He scowled, ignoring the verbal jab. ¡°Get lost. This is a range. You shouldn¡¯t be here if you don¡¯t even have a gun to shoot. We''re already busy enough and watching out for rats is not something we want to do.¡± Marcus''s gaze turned back to the man and he looked up. "I''ll be back." He said as he turned towards the door. It wasn''t personal, Marcus knew. He was the one who had no business being there anyways. He left the Range and went over to the Armory next door. It opened to a large room, most of the area was partitioned off by a large armored door and steel bars with a man standing on the other side. It was noticeably quieter in the armory than in the hall. The room was likely soundproofed for the sanity of the only person manning the room. A burly man leaned on the other side of the counter, almost bending over it. His gaze pierced Marcus with a discerning eye, like a predator sizing up his prey. Marcus was far from bothered by the stare. Instead, he approached. ¡°You lost newbie?¡± The man asked, his voice contained enough gravel to pave a long stretch of road. Marcus was getting tired of being called that. But instead of snapping at the NPC, he reigned himself and simply replied. ¡°I¡¯m actually looking for a weapon. But I¡¯m thinking of trying them out first.¡± The man looked him up and down grunted, he stood straight, pushing himself away from the counter. It gave Marcus a clear view of the towering figure and noted that he was missing part of his legs, replaced by some prosthetic. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡± The man asked. Marcus looked up and swallowed, reciting the first thing that came to his mind. ¡°An AR, collapsing buttstock, around 14-inch barrel, M-Lok Handguard or at least Picatinny with the flat upper, holo sights will be preferable but I could do with irons. Full auto and semi, no three round bursts.¡± The man laughed, leaning over the counter again. ¡°You''re a funny guy. Unfortunately for both of us, you can''t afford it. Here, with this one, I''m sure you can.¡± He reached down under the counter and laid the object over it. Marcus immediately recognized it as one of the most iconic pistols in, arguably, human history.
Attention!
M1911 One of the most venerable designs from the twentieth century. This weapon had been in every major conflict since its inception and will continue for more years to come. Despite its age, the weapon could only be improved by parts made of stronger and lighter materials. A proof of its timeless design. Caliber: 45 ACP Mods: None Familiarity: 0 (Novice) Requirements: Strength (2)
Marcus picked up the gun, finger off the trigger, unloaded the magazine then finally locked the slide back. He then peeked at the open action and the rifling on the barrel. He followed by slotting the magazine home and released the slide. Pointing the muzzle in a safe direction, he slowly pulled the trigger. Marcus grimaced as the hammer fell with an empty click. "That''s a gritty trigger." "Is it? Give it to me." The man took the pistol off Marcus'' hand and racked the slide. He too grimaced as he tested the trigger. "It is." He said, laying the gun back over the counter. "The boys over there are getting sloppy." He muttered then looked over towards Marcus. ¡°You seem to know what you''re doing." The man said, "Sad to say, you''re the first one to clear it as the first thing you do, unlike the other dumbasses whose first instinct is to hold it with the finger on the trigger then point it at something." "I''m not like everybody else," Marcus replied. "Then how about this?¡± He reached under the counter once more and laid three more magazines and two boxes of ammunition. ¡°I''m looking for some shooters. I¡¯ll throw in a hundred rounds and four magazines, free. Make yourself look good in the course and we¡¯ll see whether you''re the one I''m looking for.¡± He said, jerking his head to the door left of Marcus, on top of it was a lit sign saying ¡®CQB¡¯. ¡°Once you¡¯re inside, press the button on the side to start. You won¡¯t miss it, and if you do, don¡¯t even bother asking, you can just leave the gun and go out the door. Everything is being recorded so you won¡¯t be able to lie on your score. Come back if you¡¯re done.¡±
Quest Alert!
First Impressions Matter The armorer is a hard man to impress. A lot of men and women had passed through his sight and only a select few earned his respect. Quest Type: Relationship quest Requirement: Complete the course. Rewards: Unknown
¡°Right, thanks,¡± Marcus said, taking the gun. ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t get your name. I¡¯m Hartdegen, but you can call me Hart.¡± ¡°Introduction is after,¡± He replied, jerking his head to the direction of the course telling him to get on with it. ¡°Okay, later then,¡± Marcus said, picking up the rest of the magazines and ammo. An alert popped up and he duly ignored it as he continued towards the doors leading the CQB area. Inside was an empty kill house. Overhead lights hung from the high ceiling that could easily fit a three-story house with more to spare. Sections of removable walls were set and secured into recesses in the ground, making a course for CQB. Tight halls and rooms were plentiful, with the farthest range barely breaking thirty yards. Metal stairs lead to platforms overhead allowing a better view for anyone running the course. Marcus climbed the stairs and looked down, giving him a bird''s eye view of the course. The place reminded him of the stage in Call of duty. The part where the SAS troopers had prepared a mockup of a ship they were going to hit later and was doing practice runs and where they one-up each other¡¯s times. It had been fun back then. Marcus remembered running it so many times, first going for his best time then going against his friends on the course. He had practiced it so many times that every grenade thrown, every wall bang was muscle memory. Marcus went back down the stairs and found the button the armorer was talking about. Just like he said, it wasn¡¯t hard to find but he didn¡¯t press it yet. Instead, he brought up the notification he ignored a moment before and read it.
Attention!
Would you like to turn on the Combat assistance program? [Y/N]
Intrigued, he turned it on and pulled out his pistol from his holster and lined it up towards the target ahead. He pulled the trigger and knew he had to revert it. Going closer to the target, he missed despite lining the shot perfectly and squeezing the trigger. At the range of ten yards, missing a foot to the left was almost an impossibility. Reading further, it seemed like the chance of hitting a target is dependent on many factors some of which are the range of the target, the weapon¡¯s stats, and the character¡¯s skill. There was a reason which Marcus, nine times out of ten, preferred FPS games to MMO is that he finds acts of skill more enjoyable than chance. He never liked putting his victories into a game of dice.
Attention!
Are you sure you like to turn off combat assistance? This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.Turning off Combat assistance is not advised. This gameplay mode is only for hardcore players.
Marcus confirmed it and tucked the pistol back on his waistband. He didn''t have a holster, but he would have to make do. He then went through the same drill, pulling the gun up from its holster and pulling it up to line up the sights towards the target and pulled. Marcus'' aim didn¡¯t waver. His body remembering his numerous times in the range and the bullet his center mass. Unfortunately, his aim was slower. Years of neglect had caused his skills to atrophy. Still, it was something he could still improve back on through practice. Slowly, he holstered his weapon then went through the same process once more.
Attention!
Familiarity with M1911 has increased to 5! Through practice, you developed the chance to earn the combat skills; Handguns? Slots Available, 0/6 Would you like to take the skill? [Y/N] Handguns Increases the base damage, base critical chance, and increased familiarity rate. Type: Common, Passive
Marcus read the sparse description and chewed on each written word. From what Marcus knew of the game, damage is calculated based on the speed and mass of the bullet impacting the target. There are also thermal energy output from energy weapons but are irrelevant for the moment. The kinetic energy from the projectile was then modified depending on the level of penetration against the armor rating of the target. For PVP, the use of projectile weapons is the ideal setup as bullets tend to pierce through armor instead of burning through them in the case of energy weapons. And on a small, humanoid target, it wouldn''t be difficult to hit something vital and thus incurring a critical hit. Accepting the skill for the one slot it took would be a no-brainer if it was a rifle skill. But since it was a pistol skill, Marcus had to take a second to consider whether it was worth it. ¡°Accept.¡± He muttered. In the end, he had to take it. He had undergone through enough courses and competitions to know that handguns can come clutch in certain situations. Just like Ghost said: ''switching to your pistol is faster than reloading''.
Attention!
Handguns Lvl. 1 Increases the base damage by 2%, critical damage by 1%, and familiarity increase by 5% Type: Common, Passive
Satisfied with the rate of progress, Marcus continued his drills, draw, dry firing, speed reload, tactical reloads, and others that he could think of. Although he was hampered by the lack of a dump pouch, Marcus did his best by simply dropping the ¡®empty¡¯ mag into his cargo pockets and continuing on.
Attention!
Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 30! Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 60! Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 80! Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 90! Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 100! Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 105! Familiarity with m1911 has changed to Advanced! +5 critical damage Handgun Critical damage increased to 156%
Marcus checked the time, and found that he had been doing the same movements for about an hour now. Still, it was worth practicing reloads and drills for farming Familiarity, as it netted him higher critical damage. But with the speed of Familiarity gain slowing down, drills and dry firing could only go too far, he needed to start to mix things up. He also still needed to finish the course and see what the end of the quest entails. Marcus hoped for a gun, or even a discount. He unpacked the bullets and started loading the individual rounds to the magazines. He loaded the M1911 7+1 before holstering it and walking towards the start of the course. Marcus took a deep breath, followed by a long slow exhale then walked the course, noting the blind spots and corners. It was almost just like in competitions. Back at the start, he closed his eyes, visualized the kill house¡¯s setup and decided, he¡¯s as ready as he could be. His hand hovered over the grip of his pistol. With his left hand, he reached over to the button and pressed. A buzzer sounded a second later, followed by mechanical clanks as targets stood up from their lowered position. A target popped up in front of him, simulating a human-sized target standing on the side of the hall. In a flash, Marcus unholstered the firearm and lined up his sights. Like in practice, he kept the sights aligned center mass of the first target that popped out. Squeezing the trigger, the pistol buckled as the round went off in a loud pop. Marcus¡¯s ears rang from the report, the first thing that ran in his mind is him forgetting his ear pro but was surprised that didn¡¯t hurt that much, probably a consideration from the game designers as getting hearing loss would be far from being fun. With a loud beep cutting through the echoes of the gunfire, the target went down and Marcus sprinted forward to the next corner, his pistol held up, muzzle pointed safely to the ceiling. Coming to the corner, he slowed down to a stop. He leaned to the side, peeking over the corner, and spotted a target. With a slight shift of his arm, his aim pointed center mass. With a couple of rounds, the steel target tilted back. Keeping note of his current rounds left, he ran forward to the next shooting position. A silhouette popped out around the corner ahead, surprising him. With a time penalty of two seconds for every second he is exposed to a target, his legs fell under him in a controlled slide. He raised his pistol at the same time and fired two shots downing the target. In real life, he wouldn''t have slid as it would have risked personal injury. But in-game, the move did nothing but only scuff his pants and cover it with a fresh coat of dust.
Attention!
Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 115! Handguns increased to Level 2!
Marcus ignored the notification and pushed himself off the floor, sprinting forward and continuing through the course.
Congratulations!
Your time is 2:55.58s. Would you like to submit it to the leaderboards? [Y/N]
Attention!
You are experiencing cigarette cravings. Fulfill your addiction else suffer growing debuffs. Current Debuff: Tremor
Marcus looked at his hands and confirmed a slight quiver. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to mess up his aim but did raise the concern of finding the needed cigarettes. There should be a trader on every location selling cigarettes. He would just have to find it. He then looked over to the notification and confirmed yes.
CQC Leaderboards
Name: Record Time:
18. Laurierex ?? 2:54.01s
19. IHasLegs? 2:54.23s
20. Hartdegen? 2:55.58s
21. Captain Cold-blooded? 2:57.12s
Marcus couldn¡¯t help but send out a slight chuckle in surprise. He wasn¡¯t expecting to be so close to the top of the leaderboards on the first try. Marcus was sure that it was more to the current quality of players than his own personal skill. He was a middling shooter at best, only joining in on nearby 2 gun competitions whenever he had free time and was always placed in the middle of the pack. Still, he had one more run with what ammo he had left. He packed the magazines once more and walked the course, again and again, burning the locations of the targets in his mind and doing dry runs.
Attention!
Familiarity with m1911 has increased to 150! -1% chance of the weapon dropping on death!
In this game, death is not only punished by loss of experience, it was made worse by the loss of all gear you equipped your character. One percent could almost be just a hit in the dark, but still a welcome addition nonetheless. Marcus acknowledged the notification and threw the thought to the side as fast as he had read it. Instead, he focused his mind on his task ahead. Slowly, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to relax, he continued on his breathing technique, while running the course with his mind. He put in every ounce of focus he had on the task at hand and opened his eyes with a determined look. Reaching over, he pressed the button for the second time. The loud buzzer initiated the start, followed immediately by the mechanical clanking of the targets resetting. The same target popped up and he unholstered his weapon sending two taps to its chest then sprinted forward. Memories of his childhood started floating to the forefront. Marcus had learned how to respect the gun back when he was eight, by ten, he had bagged his first deer and by sixteen, had built his own rifle from an 80% receiver and parts ordered from the internet. He grew up with guns and loved it, this game was just the perfect fit.
Congratulations!
Your time is 2:20.22s. Would you like to submit your score to the leaderboards? [Y/N]
Marcus was breathing hard. He looked at the last target on the ground and looked down on his hands to find the pistol still smoking on his hand, its slide locked back. He seemed to have blanked out, sinking into some place where everything just fell perfectly. "The Zone." Marcus muttered to himself and picked yes.
CQC Leaderboards
Name: Record Time:
1. TheKing 2:18.55s
2. Lazyeye 2:19.15s
3. Hartdegen? 2:20.22s
4. Demented 2:21.11s
Marcus could only grin as the notification showed him getting to the third place. The difference between him and the first was only a split of fewer than three seconds. Given a better pistol, he could swear he would have a good run for the first place. The low capacity of his gun was what caused multiple reloads in his run and costing him precious seconds. With a smile, he pressed the slide release and blew at the muzzle of the gun, promising that he would come back and aim for the first spot.
Attention!
Due to your position on the leaderboards, you are awarded: +10 Fame Additional +1 Fame will be awarded for every day you keep your place in the rankings until the course resets.
''That man better be impressed.'' Marcus thought to himself as he went for the exit. CH 06: First Session - Rifles ¡°Give me that!¡± The Armorer yelled just as Marcus left the course. He looked over just as The armorer reached over the counter and yanked a pistol off from a player¡¯s hand. ¡°You''re better off throwing rocks at targets than shooting at it at this point. Get back on the line. Next!¡± A look of surprise plastered along the newbies face as the armorer turned away ¡°Wha? What did I do?¡± He asked the armorer who ignored him, then looked over to the man next in line, who only shrugged. Seeing no help coming, he went back to the end of the queue to the snickers of the others standing in line. ¡°Hey kid, Come here.¡± The armorer called. The call attracted the attention of not only him but all other people in the armory. ''Fuck.'' Marcus thought, feeling the gazes of everyone on him. ¡°I¡¯ll be at the end of the line,¡± Marcus answered meekly, moving to the back of the line only to be interrupted by another call. ¡°Fuck that. Just come here.¡± He waved over then looked to the man at the head of the line. ¡°If you don''t mind, we got a priority customer here. You''re not, so you gotta wait.¡± He said to the man at the head of the line with false sincerity. The man looked at Marcus with annoyance, only to back off from the line. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Marcus muttered to the man as he took his spot. ¡°So what you call me for? You do know that I ran the risk of pissing everyone in the line just for what you did.¡± ¡°Don''t mind them." He said, then louder, "They can go elsewhere if they want. If they ever think to touch you, then they can find themselves some other place to find their guns and ammo, maybe dig them out of the ground or out of their own heads.¡± The Armorer grinned. ¡°I saw what you did. And I¡¯m going as far as to say that I¡¯m impressed. Name''s Stoner. I already know who you are and as promised, here.¡± He said, reaching under his counter and pulling out a pair of assault rifles, ¡°Pick the one you like. And Keep the pistol. I got too many of these taking store space anyway. These fucks who can''t even hit the broad side of a ship think that it''s too basic for their own tastes. But looking at you, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find the proper use for it.¡± ¡°Yeah, In the trash.¡± A voice answered from the back of the line. Stoner looked over the head of the ones in line and zeroed in on the one who spoke up. ¡°Oh, look at that. There seemed to have been a mistake. Your gun seems to have more problems than you let on, so it had been moved at the back of the queue. You can get your shit tomorrow.¡± ¡°Ah, damn!¡± the same voice answered, followed by him leaving the line and out towards the door. ¡°You shouldn''t have said that.¡± Someone else said to the man leaving. Marcus turned back to Stoner. ¡°Take your time.¡± He said. On the counter laid an M16, the A2 version judging by the handguard, and an AKM. ¡°Can I check?¡± Marcus asked gesturing to the pair, feeling the gazes of the ones in line behind him on the back of his head. ¡°Go ahead. Fondle and fiddle with them as much as you like, but you can only take one.¡± Stoner said with a smug grin. Marcus nodded. He picked up the pair of guns and carried them off to the side. He laid them on the benches lining the wall,s and as per habit, he made sure that both rifles were clear.
Attention!
AKM A select-fire, gas piston system operated rifle chambered in 7.62x39mm. Developed after the second world war in an effort of the Soviet Union¡¯s effort to equip its massive army with medium-ranged combat rifles. An estimated two hundred million were built since including other variants of the same base rifle. The AK had been present in virtually every conflict and is considered to be the Soviet Union¡¯s greatest export during its height and its fall. Caliber: 7.62x39mm Mods: None Familiarity: 0 Requirement: Strength 4
He popped the top cover off the AK, followed by the recoil spring then the bolt carrier group. The parts look clean and well maintained and he looked at the barrel to see the rifling in pristine condition. He put the parts back and racked the action multiple times, smooth.
Attention!
Familiarity increased to 20
Attention!
AR-15 (M16A2) A select-fire, gas impingement system operating system chambered in 5,56x45mm. Adopted into the military service and given the designation M16 by the United States Military. It had been made the Military¡¯s standard rifle since and had undergone numerous iterations and configurations due to the modularity built into its design. Hundreds of millions were built and in circulation, most of it in civilian hands. Caliber: 5.56x45mm Mods: None Familiarity: 0 Requirement: Strength 4
Marcus field stripped the AR just like in the AK. He pressed the takedown pins, letting the upper swing forward, and looked down at the trigger group. He then pulled at the charging handle, taking out the Bolt carrier group, and let it stand on the bench by the bolt face. Pressing down on the bolt carrier group, the bolt face cammed into position and Marcus could only chuckle at the amount of detail. Looking down the barrel, it was also in pristine condition. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Putting the rifle back together, Marcus sighed. In front of him was the topic of debate among enthusiasts for decades. AR or AK.
Attention!
Familiarity increased to 20
Marcus was more partial to the AR, but the long 18-inch barrel and fixed stock made it cumbersome within buildings and rooms. More importantly, he couldn''t see himself taking shots past the intermediate range. The maximum distance he could expect around the city was around 300 meters, which is well within the capabilities of the AKM. The second issue is the ammo. Considering that the game models real life as much as it could, the damage is done by the energy imparted into the target. The light grainage of the 5.56 bullets caused it to rely entirely on its speed for its stopping power. The flat trajectory was an added bonus. On the other hand, the 7.62 relies on its heavier bullet for its lethality in exchange for a slower projectile and more pronounced bullet arc but has the capacity of barrier destruction. Marcus sighed. He really liked the AR but not the particular setup. He could try pulling the barrel and replacing it with a shorter one for his tastes but doing that would cost him money. Still, it made choosing easier. Picking both rifles up, he walked over to the counter and laid the M16 on the counter. ¡°I¡¯ll take the AKM,¡± ¡°If that''s what you want,¡± Stoner grunted, taking the rifle and putting it out of sight. He then laid a couple of bakelite magazines and half a can of ammo, all still wrapped in brown paper and held together by a length of a tied string. ¡°Heres some spare magazines and some ammo.¡± ¡°You''re a lifesaver. I do suppose that you have some side rails and optics on stock, do you?¡± Marcus asked. Getting a red dot on the gun would make using it a lot easier. ¡°Actually, I do.¡± He said, reaching under the counter and laying a pair of optics. Both resembled popular brands Marcus was familiar with. ¡°For you, I¡¯ll sell them as a set, for about 2 thousand Credits.¡±
Attention!
Siderail Mount Allows the mounting of optics using the soviet style side mounts. Holds zero.
Attention!
Holographic Sight Lightweight, robust sight. 1x magnification, Circle-Dot Reticle. Crystal clear glass allows minimal light reduction. Features include NVG and daylight mode.
¡°Ooof," Marcus muttered. The optics and mounting would cost him a fifth of all his in-game money. Still, it was not that bad. The sight will allow him faster target acquisition. In gunfights, the quickest on the target usually wins. With the item description this sparse, Marcus wondered whether the flavor text would change and the effects more pronounced if he changes his combat style into what he considered to be the game''s ''baby mode''. "I don''t know. I don''t think I¡¯m at a level to uh, afford it but I have to ask, can you do credit?" Marcus said, taking the ammo and magazines. ¡°I¡¯m not a bank. I don''t do credit.¡± ¡°Fuck it. Alright.¡± Marcus replied, pulling out his credit chit and laying it on the counter. "Congratulations you''re a while I was thinking you''re only here for freebies," Stoner replied, taking the chit and sliding it on the till. "Here''s your tool, you can zero your rifle on the range." He said, giving the chit back along with the allen key. ¡°and if you have some ammo to burn, feel free to take a slot on the rifle course, I could do with something worthwhile to watch.¡± He said. ¡°Also, stick around for a bit. Someone is coming here to meet you.¡± Marcus¡¯ ears perked up at that. He looked up at Stoner, who looked back at him with a knowing look and nodded. ¡°Alright, I''ll be back after I confirm zero,¡± Marcus replied. He picked up the side-rail, holographic sight, and the hex key, pocketing all of them, then finally made his way to the Range. The Range was just as loud as when he left it. Going in with his rifle, he passed through the stalls and recognized some people during the first time he went in. They sent him a careful glance but went back on their business as they saw the rifle in his hands. Finding an empty booth, Marcus placed the AK on the bench and loaded rounds into the magazine. Thankfully the targets in the distance had their corresponding ranges labeled into them. He wanted to get his rifle zeroed to have the least holdovers possible. So Marcus settled to set his battle sights zeroed on hitting point of aim at 35 and 186 yards using irons for the unlikely chance of his optics failing. Flicking the selector into semi-auto, Marcus laid the rifle on the bench rest and lined up a shot. He tucked the rifle tight against his shoulder pocket and pressed his cheek tight on the buttstock. Focusing on the front post, he pulled the trigger, reset, and went for a five-round group. By watching through the cameras, Marcus saw that he was hitting too high on the target. Marcus corrected the zero by screwing the front post a revolution upward, which would lower his point of impact by about 8 inches. Finished, he shot another five-round group and hitting perfectly where it should. Content on the iron sight''s zero, Marcus assembled the side rail and mounted the holographic sights on the rifle. After locking it in, he repeated the same steps. With three-inch groups on a hundred yards, the rifle was fine, well within what was colloquially known as a minute of bad guy.
Attention!
AKM A select-fire, gas piston system operated rifle chambered in 7.62x39mm. Developed after the second world war in an effort of the Soviet Union¡¯s effort to equip its massive army with medium-ranged combat rifles. An estimated two hundred million were built since including other variants of the same base rifle. The AK had been present in virtually every conflict and is considered to be the Soviet Union¡¯s greatest export during its height and its fall. Caliber: 7.62x39mm Mods: Holographic Sight (Siderail Mount) Familiarity: 50 Requirement: Strength 4
Unloading his magazine and racking the bolt multiple times, Marcus noticed someone standing behind him. He glanced back to find the guy who blocked him the first time came to the range. "Can I help you?" He asked. "No." He simply replied and walked away. Marcus wondered what he was about for a second before dismissing the thought and going back to the armory. It was empty. The customers long serviced, Stoner was back to his usual position of leaning over the counter. Stoner jerked his head over to the armored door to the side of him, wordlessly inviting him inside. Marcus nodded back and was buzzed in. Entering the storage area and breathing in the scent of carbon, rust, and gun oil. CH 07: First Session - Connect On the back of Stoner''s store, racks full of guns and shelves filled with unopened crates lined the walls. Tons of ammunition, both com-bloc and NATO stacked up to the walls. Marcus had never seen so much ammo in his life, not to mention the number of calibers in stock. Just the amount of 6.5mm calibers were enough to make someone dizzy, not to mention the other wildcats. Looking around, he wondered the exact number of bullets in storage and how long the supply would last if there happened to be a serious engagement. Marcus walked along the shelves and racks, perusing and gorging his eyes on the selection of weapons available. He stopped as a gun caught his attention and turned to look at an AS Val sitting on a rack. Coming closer, he wanted to reach out to hold the rifle in his hands but stayed and kept his hands in his pockets. His father taught him not to mess with other people''s stuff, no matter how much he wanted to touch the unicorn rifle. Voices. Marcus looked towards the source to find two figures walking in his direction coming from the other side of the room. Stoner''s bulky frame was immediately recognized even at a distance. He was talking with the other man walking beside him. Squinting, Marcus couldn''t see the other man''s face, and so he instead watched the way the man walked, his gestures, and the way he looked to be very comfortable next to the burly armorer. They looked to be good friends. From the distance, Marcus could only get snippets of the conversation as they both came closer. ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s fast and a good shot. You should see it.¡± Marcus caught Stoner say, gesturing his direction for emphasis. ¡°Hartdegen, meet Columbus.¡± Stoner introduced as he and the man next to him came within earshot. The man introduced as Columbus stepped forward, right hand extended for a handshake. Marcus stepped forward to meet the man in the middle, as is proper and not to seem like an asshole. "Nice to meet you Hartdegen." Columbus greeted, reaching over and clasping his hand, putting his left hand over Marcus'' as they shook hands.
Name: Columbus Race: Human Player ID: 171157663785
Level: 20
¡°Right. Nice to meet you too.¡± Marcus said and was surprised to find that he¡¯s a player and wondered what level of relation he had with Stoner to have the armorer do a favor for him. Compared to Marcus'' plain gray jumpsuit, Columbus wore a mismatched pattern of gray digital combat shirt under a forest splotch patterned carrier vest and what looked to be a British pattern DPM jacket over everything. Lower, he wore a pair of plain khaki cargo pants with dark brown knee pads and a pair of hiking boots. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Stoner wasn''t the one looking for good shots. It was me, and I had him look for people like you. So, how about you and me talk?¡± He said laying a couple of boxes of 7.62 on the counter. ¡°Let me make it worth your time for a hundred rounds of ammo.¡± Marcus looked at the ammo, then to Stoner, who only grinned and turned around to leave them to their conversation. Wondering what the man is on about, he asked. ¡°What¡¯s there to talk about?¡± Columbus simply smiled. ¡°A partnership for a quest. You interested?¡± ¡°I might. If you clue me in on what I''m jumping into first.¡± Marcus replied, backing a couple of steps to take a seat off a stack of crates of ammunition. ¡°I understand your caution," Columbus replied, taking a seat in front of Marcus. "We both do not know each other and have just been introduced by our mutual friend. So let me start, I need help with a quest where I have encountered a unique difficulty. The party limit is two people and the condition of the quest is that I cannot directly participate in combat, of which I know we will find a lot of. This is because I¡¯m already at the level limit. In return, I will supply you with everything you will need, ammo, supplies, I¡¯ll even hire you a gun you think you need, which will last for the duration of the quest. Are you interested?" "Kinda risky isn''t it? Telling me this much." "I have calculated the risk. We are in a private area. If a word does get out of this business of mine, I''ll immediately know where the leak was. Still, I do need to give you enough of a clue to what you''ll be getting into. Otherwise, you wouldn''t even consider the offer, because why would you?" Marcus shrugged. "all right then, but why me? I''m sure you''ll be able to find others." ¡°Reliable shooters are rare, even more so at a low level like yours. You, of course, being third place in the local course proves enough of your skills and I am willing to invest in that. Of course, you''re not the only potential candidate for the position. there are two of you, but I am only limited to having one other person at my party. So, you two will have to shoot it out in a course I have prepared. the person with the best time gets the slot. And as proof for my claim, here."
Quest Information
[Redacted] [Redacted] Requirements: maximum average party level 20, 2 players. [Redacted] [Redacted]
Marcus read the quest description. Sure, most of it had been redacted but enough information has been left uncovered to see that he was not lying. It was a risk, but who would bother through all the trouble of trying to scam a low level like him. ¡°All right. Looks legit. So when is this thing of yours going to happen.¡± ¡°Two hours, I already reserved the course, you two only get three runs each, best score wins.¡± That was barely enough. sure, he had managed to zero the rifle prior but that doesn''t mean anything. There are a lot of things that can still go wrong. ¡°Why the rush?¡± ¡°The both of you are already here. It wouldn''t be proper to have the two of you wait any further. As for your competition, She¡¯s also a level one. Two hours should give you enough time to prepare¡± "Gonna be tight," Marcus mulled. He might be wrong, but this opportunity does not look like something to simply pass up. "All right. I''ll be there." ¡°See you then.¡± Columbus nodded. the two shook hands and Marcus watched as Columbus turned and walked away. on the way out, he gave Stoner a friendly wave to which the grumpy armorer returned with a nod. Marcus waited about a minute after the man left the Armory before approaching Stoner at his counter. Marcus leaned over, watching the door, and let a couple of seconds pass before asking. "Who the fuck is that guy?" "didn''t I already introduced the two of you? isn''t that enough?" Marcus glanced at Stoner, there wasn''t any more information he could get out of the man. "I guess it is. Can I borrow someplace private? ¡°You can use the place at the back to do your drills. It''s private enough and doesn''t fill one of my courses.¡± Stoner called. ¡°But If you want to go shooting your rifle, use the range or the rifle course. For the second, well, you¡¯ll have to take the queue like everyone else.¡± "The back will be enough," Marcus replied. CH 08: First session - Competition
[Inventory]
Primary Secondary Pistol
AKM Wt: 4.24 Kg [Empty] M1911 Wt: 1.21 Kg
Pockets Backpack (Not Equipped) Universal Chest Rig (3 Slots)
6L10 Bakelite Magazine (0/30) Wt: 0.2 Kg 6L10 Bakelite Magazine (0/30) Wt: 0.2 Kg 6L10 Bakelite Magazine (0/30) Wt: 0.2 Kg
Weight: 8.1/28 Kg
Further back inside Stoner¡¯s armory, metallic clacks echoed throughout the room. Shelves filled with random gun parts and machinery surrounded Marcus as he underwent his drills. If one was so audibly inclined, they would recognize the sounds as the clack of a rifle''s magazine being slotted in, magazine catch engaging, and the action racked back and released. Marcus stared ahead and aimed his AK to the lathe positioned against the armory wall. He fished another empty magazine from his vest. Smooth and deliberate, without taking his eyes off the target, Marcus fished out a fresh magazine from his vest and used his thumb to press on the catch, letting the empty magazine fall into the floor. With one smooth motion, Marcus rocked the magazine into the well, feeling more than hearing the catch engage as it locked the magazine in place. He followed by reaching under the receiver, tilting the rifle slightly, then pulled at the charging handle using the tip of his finger and releasing it with an audible clack. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Marcus repeated the adage. He had spent almost all of the time he had before the face-off practicing his sight alignment as he knew it would be the sticking point in the coming match. It was the best time and cost-effective method to have his fundamentals drilled, save being in the range and shooting targets himself. It would be enough, given that he won''t be going against a rifle champion in the coming face-off. At least, that was what he hoped. ¡°Hey, Hart. Your competition came early.¡± Stoner called from the front, taking Marcus out of his headspace and back into reality. ¡°Got it. I¡¯ll be coming shortly.¡± Marcus replied, doing one more reload drill, this time attempting to do it as fast as possible. He pulled his last mag and pushed at the catch rocking the fresh magazine home as the other magazine clattered on the floor, and within a second, reached under the rifle and racked the bolt. Tilting his head slightly forward, he could see that the sight was aligned and still centered on his target. It was fast enough, and it should do, for now. ¡°You keep doing that kid and you¡¯ll run out of things to surprise me,¡± Stoner remarked, walking in his direction while wiping his hands with an oily rag. He threw the rag towards the tables on the side, landing on a partially assembled RPK, secured to the table with a vise. It''s Stoner¡¯s latest project. Marcus thought about trying to ask him if he wanted some help in his shop as he did have previous experience in building guns. He may not be at the level Stoner is at but enough to be a simple assistant. Marcus still remembered fondly his perfectly balanced AK, chambered in 5.56. He had painstakingly modified it from a Russian import Saiga and had been heavily modified to look like what Russian special forces would take to battle. ¡°Stop putting your bar so low and I wouldn''t have to,¡± Marcus replied, bending over and picking the magazines from the floor. ¡°With all the shit I had to deal with, you know I had to,¡± Stoner replied, walking over to give Marcus a pat on the back. "Good luck kid, I''m rooting for you." "Thanks." Marcus nodded. Walking to the front, Marcus was surprised as he recognized the woman standing next to Colombus. Meeting gazes, Marcus guessed that she was surprised to see him too, given the look she sent him. Marcus went through the partition door and greeted the two with a handshake. ¡°You ready?¡± Colombus asked, straight to the point. ¡°Yeah. Ready as I¡¯ll ever be.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Ylenka, this is Hartdegen. Hartdegen, Ylenka. I¡¯ll get everything prepared. You two get acquainted.¡± Columbus said, then walked away. ¡°Could you have been at least a bit considerate and took an easier name?¡± Ylenka asked, breaking the silence. Like Marcus, she wore the same newbie grays along with a type 56 chest rig filled with magazines. Slung on her shoulder is an AKS-74U, the shortened version of the AK-74, its triangle stock folded to be even more compact. Marcus grinned. ¡°You wouldn''t get it.¡± ¡°I wouldn''t remember it either.¡± ¡°Just call me Hart then. That short enough for you?¡± ¡°Short would keep it in my memory, but won''t take my attention.¡± Marcus scoffed, feigning offense. ¡°Women.¡± Curious, he asked. ¡°So how did the guy found you?¡± ¡°I got my friends to give me a connect, Bossman over there is looking for a good shooter at a low level. They''re vouching for me that I¡¯ll be able to come through, the pay is too good to pass up. You?¡± Marcus shrugged. Looking away, Columbus was busy talking with Stoner, passing the armorer a credit chit to which he pocketed. ¡°I got his attention. He came down and asked me himself.¡± ¡°Why would he do that?¡± ¡°Maybe it''s because of my good looks? I just batted my eyelashes then gave a strut and he came coming.¡± ¡°Tell me. I told you how I got here. Now is your turn to tell yours.¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°I got top scores in the pistol course.¡± She paused, looking up. ¡°What was your name again?¡± ¡°Hartdegen¡± ¡°Hart- de- gen.¡± She muttered, Marcus looked over her. She was busy looking at screens. ¡°Oh wow. That¡¯s impressive.¡± Marcus didn''t reply, only shrugging. ¡°Tell you what." She said, "We playing off each other without anything else would be boring. Let''s make a bet. If I win, you coach me to get top in pistols.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Marcus didn''t reply, instead, he looked over the girl next to him and wondered what angle she was playing. ''Was getting to the top scores really that impressive?'' he wondered. Weighing his options, Marcus decided getting something for himself would be worth it. ¡°You have cash?¡± He asked. ¡°I do.¡± ¡°Alright. Cash for me. How about a thousand MRC?¡± Marcus offered. It''s his equivalent cost of living for a month. Risking a few hours to a day of playtime for a month''s rent and food is easily worth it. She scoffed. ¡°You''re not worth that much honey.¡± ¡°It''s what my time is worth." He lied. "You''re the one that came with the offer in the first place. But you did give me an idea. I wonder how many people are interested in a lesson and how much they''re willing to pay for it.¡± ¡°Alright. A thousand credits if you win. Deal?¡± She said, biting her tongue. Looking at her, Marcus wondered if he did overcharge for what she could get in return for the bet. Despite that, the bet still needed some clearing up. ¡°No, not yet. Since you can easily keep me tied up coaching you by throwing the course, I¡¯ll give you an hour session teaching you everything you¡¯d like to know and everything I could teach you. If you win that is.¡± "One is too low, you''re better off just working for money if you''re worth a thousand cred an hour." She replied. ¡°Five.¡± "A life full of money isn''t worth it if you''re not having fun. I''m doing this in my own time. My own expense." Marcus rebutted. ¡°Two.¡± "Still too low. I bet you''re the type of person who likes taking other people''s money in exchange for nothing." She replied, ¡°Four.¡± "Oh wow. Now you''re attacking my person for being firm on what I''m worth?" Marcus replied, doubling down on his lie. ¡°I''ve been called worse, woman. Two.¡± "Hah! then you do admit being that scoundrel. Use this opportunity to atone for what you do. Four.¡± ¡°Two,¡± Marcus replied. "My soul is happy where it is. this is not a place for a nun, which I doubt you are. Also, doing what you''re saying won''t get me points on the man upstairs anyway." A look of defeat washed over Ylenka''s face, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. ¡°Come on. Let''s meet in the middle. Three.¡± Marcus watched her and sighed. The woman''s ultimate move appeals to a man''s emotion. Still, three one-hour sessions aren''t that bad in case he loses when five sessions is already a steal in the first place. ¡°Alright,¡± Marcus replied, rubbing his face from how uneven this bet was. ¡°Deal?¡± she said, lighting up. ¡°Deal," Marcus confirmed. "A thousand Martian credits if I win, three one-hour coaching sessions if you win.¡± Ylenka nodded, composing herself to a normal expression. She offered a hand to which Marcus took. Columbus, who had been standing on the side watching the two of them settle their agreement, decided to butt in. ¡°I heard everything. I¡¯ll mediate your bet. I''ll hold Ylenka''s money, but as for you Hartdegen," "- A thousand creds is not worth running away from," Marcus added. "It''s not worth a hit in anybody''s reputation." Colombus nodded, content on his declaration. He looked at Ylenka who also nodded in agreement. "Okay. You two ready?¡± ¡°I¡¯m always ready,¡± Ylenka said. Marcus nodded, adjusting the rifle slung on his shoulder. "Follow me then," Colombus said, leading the way to one of the indoor courses. The three entered the course. Marcus went immediately to the overhead catwalks to look over everything. The course had been arranged with long sightlines reaching a hundred meters along with branching rooms with tight corridors. Going down, he laid his equipment on the benches and made sure that everything in his kit was ready to go. ¡°Rules are simple. The score is by time. Two shots to the chest will take the targets down, one in the head. There are thirty targets in total, all within different ranges so a perfect run would take sixty rounds. Shoot more, and you will have a three-second penalty for every shot missed, and a two-second bonus for every round saved. Shooting positions will be lit up by spotlights along with the targets for that position. This isn''t the usual rifle course and is set up by me so it will not affect the weekly rankings. Any questions? No? Who wants to go first?¡± ¡°Ladies first?¡± Marcus said, turning to Ylenka. ¡°No, you do it. MR high score.¡± She replied. ¡°I¡¯ll go first then. I¡¯m allowed to walk the course right? Since I¡¯ll go first.¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s fair,¡± Colombus replied. ¡°We¡¯ll start when you come back.¡± Marcus walked the course, taking a closer inspection on the ground. Unlike the pistol course, the rifle course was much bigger, at least three times larger in floor area. It both had short and long-range sightlines reaching up to a hundred yards all doable with the AK. With thirty targets, it was hard to remember all of them, which was probably why Colombus activated the spotlights to aid Marcus and make the runs as fair as possible. Reaching the end, he came back to the two and nodded. "We''re good," Marcus said, picking up his rifle and loading the rounds into his magazines, smacking them in the table after fully loading them. Putting the magazines in their slots, Marcus then tightened his vest and jumped around to make sure that the magazines won''t fall off when running. Picking up the rifle, loaded a fresh magazine and racked the bolt, letting out a satisfying clack, then engaged the safety. Marcus could feel the two looking at him but made sure for it not to bother him. He was making sure everything was working well, and any blunders he makes here would translate to time lost and risk him losing the match. He slung the rifle and took a deep breath. Looking behind, he sent the two a confirming nod and pressed the button that counted down the start of his run. With a beep, he took off to the tight hallway ahead of him. He stopped in place just as two targets simultaneously popped out and got lit up by the overhead spotlights. Marcus raised his rifle and lined up a shot, finger on the trigger. He felt a little creep on the trigger until he hit its ¡®wall¡¯ breaking into a crisp pull. His earlier trigger polishing work did what is intended. With both eyes open, he saw the bullet splatter high on the target¡¯s torso, going down. The round hit where a person''s neck would be. The hit must''ve been registered as a headshot and took the target down with one hit. Breathing out, Marcus lined up another shot and pulled. Hitting high once again and taking the target down with one shot. Lights turned off with a loud click, Marcus ran to the next area. He had to admit, this was fun. Just like going against other shooters in his previous two gun competitions were. The added fact of him going in first lit up a fire under his ass, making him sprint faster and push himself even harder than he thought. His debt, his past, the pressure to make the best in this second life was all forgotten, thrown to the back of his mind as the only thing that mattered is in the present. Everything else melted into the background as he sunk deeper into the zone. Now, he was a machine. He sprinted as fast as he could, controlled his breathing, slid into position to take a shot prone for the long hundred-meter shots, and braced his rifles on windows and structures for best stability whenever he could. His gun went dry, the trigger only emitting a dull click instead of a bang. For a second, he looked at it confused and realized he was out. Reaching to his vest, he grasped the magazine tight and slapped the magazine catch with his thumb, and inserted the magazine clasped in his hand. The spent magazine clattered on the floor just as he slotted the fresh one into the well and rocked it back to click into place. Automatically, he reached under the weapon and pulled at the charging handle as he was scanning in front for the next target. He found it lit against the dark backdrop. He shouldered his rifle, aiming down the sights. Breathing slow, Marcus squeezed the trigger, and the target went down. ¡°Time!¡± Colombus yelled, and the spotlights turned off. Marcus sighed, closing his eyes. He walked back to the two to find Ylenka laughing by herself while shaking her head, next to a grinning Columbus. ¡°I''m going to say it. I lost.¡± She said as Marcus joined the two. ¡°I wouldn''t waste everyone¡¯s time to even think that I could beat that.¡± "Are you sure?" Columbus asked. "You wouldn''t even try?" "If he went for two tap body shots, I would have risked going for the head to beat him. But you saw what he did, I wouldn''t be able to match that with where I am at. He won the match and the bet." ¡°Here,¡± Colombus said, handing over a card. Marcus looked at it to see that it had a million game credits plus change inside. With the exchange rate of a thousand in-game credits forever MRC, it was exactly what was agreed on the deal with some change. ¡°The bit of overflow should take care of the conversion. I¡¯ll see you later, expect me to track you down for that session.¡± Ylenka said winking as he turned away and made for the door.
Attention!
Friend request received from Ylenka Player ID: 305536616731 Accept? [Y/N]
¡°Appreciated.¡± Marcus could only mutter. There was still a level of detachment as he held the money that is worth a month of his living expenses. Maybe, he thought, after getting the money out of the game will the reality sink in, that he can make money after all. ¡°Congratulations,¡± Colombus muttered. Both men watched as Ylenka walked away. "If there are any reservations I had with your level of skill, then consider it all washed away." "Thanks," Marcus replied. ¡°You should deposit the money in a bank, or have it converted into cash. But first, hand me your stats and I¡¯ll set up your gear for you if you don''t already have your own preference. You''ll have it in two hours. Then you can rest up, or use the rest of the day however you like. Tomorrow, I will add you to my party and we''ll set out to finish the quest." "Also," Columbus added. "If you plan to betray me in our arrangement, I suggest you back out now, or simply throw away that notion. It will not end well for you." "Don''t worry," Marcus replied, quickly realizing the implicit threat. Harmless or not, he isn''t that type of scumbag. "I''m not in the hobby of making enemies when I don''t have to." CH 09: First Session - Winning ¡°Here is the rest of the quest information. Take it as you will, but I would have to insist you pick out a 5.56 rifle. For the gun itself, I already had the tab opened up in Stoner¡¯s shop. He won''t say no to you this time.¡±
Quest information
The path to nowhere Type: Discovery Owner: Columbus There is a hole filled with defunct and malfunctioning security systems. Where does it go? Requirements: Maximum party member level 20, 2 players, find out what is at the end of the tunnels. Rewards: ??
¡°I thought we''re going for a dungeon and not PVP." "We are. The only difference is we''re using PVP gear." "I don¡¯t really know much, but isn¡¯t that a bad thing?" "There''s nothing stopping players from using guns on anything. In fact, using guns against mobs is very effective, only that it is not economical. Energy weapons on the other hand use extremely cheap fusion cells that contain high capacity output." "Let me guess. They''re cheap to use, making them good against mobs but shit on PVP." Columbus nodded. "Specifically, they are ineffective against shields which players always carry, as they are made to counter them. Energy weapons also burn through objects, instead of piercing through them, so you can easily block their rays with smoke or even a light piece of cover. Even a piece of paper can buy you a second of cover before the shots burn through.¡± ¡°So 5.56 because it''s a light intermediate cartridge with high fragmentation chance decent amount of penetration, am I right?¡± Marcus replied. Knowing the real 5.56, he would have to take barrel length into consideration given that it is heavily dependent on velocity. ¡°Exactly. It¡¯s also the caliber I could source an adequate amount of armor-piercing munitions. There is of course the 7.62 NATO but they are too heavy for the purpose.¡± ¡°Curious, how much ammo are we talking about?¡± ¡°I¡¯m planning between two thousand rounds split between the two of us.¡± ¡°Fucking hell. You''re really going out on this huh?¡± Marcus replied. That¡¯s about fifty pounds in ammunition, he thought. Not to mention the cost, Marcus could chance a look at the current price but he could remember m855 rounds in Stoner¡¯s shop went for about two credits each. Also, the way Columbus said about getting it. He said sourcing, likely meaning that it would not come from the retailers and would cost much more. What they¡¯ll be running in their rifles will be beyond premium ammunition prices. ¡°It''s what credits are for.¡± Columbus simply replied. ¡®Fucking whales.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. Here he was thinking of how much time money could buy him before he would be forced into the streets and the man next to him was talking about spending money like it was nothing. Marcus was still theorizing about how much Columbus was dropping on the coming quest when they entered the armory. The buzz of people talking amongst themselves became background noise as Marcus continued his pondering. Suddenly, it turned quiet. Marcus looked up to see the players gathered around the armory were looking over their direction, more specifically, at Columbus. ''Fuck.'' ¡°They know you?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°Unfortunately." Columbus sighed. "It seems like we¡¯ll be moving separately from now on. Go ahead and get your rifle picked out. And here, use this when you purchase your equipment, it will be charged to me.¡± Columbus handed over a unique credit chit. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it. If you have any questions, feel free to message me.¡±
Columbus'' Personal Credit Chit Anything purchased with this card with be charged to the owner, but will require approval before completing the transaction.
Friend request received from Columbus ID: 171157663785 Accept? [Y/N]
Marcus pressed accept. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡± Columbus nodded. ¡°Right. Take care.¡± Marcus replied. Columbus went to leave the Armory while Marcus stayed behind. He watched as the group silently followed Columbus with their gazes filled with bared animosity. Marcus might not know the history between his employer and the group, but it was prudent to take note of their appearances. Unlike Columbus, who wore mismatched camo patterns, the group wore a uniform attire. They wore brand new looking Dessert Battle Dress uniforms, nicknamed the chocolate-chip camouflage from the pattern¡¯s resemblance to chocolate chip dough. Over it, was a type56 vest, the ones the Vietcong used, which were justified by their choice of firearms of AK pattern rifles of different attachments. Marcus was spared little notice. He stood by the side, casually watching the group as to not raise suspicion, and waited as they finished their business and left. ¡°I saw what you did.¡± Stoner greeted as Marcus approached the counter. ¡°I could understand why that girl didn¡¯t even bother trying to beat you.¡± ¡°She was just being considerate.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°She knew I needed the job more than her.¡± ¡°You should tell that when she¡¯s around. Works better into getting in her pants.¡± Stoner replied. ¡°Is that how you saw it? Looks like you¡¯re the one who needs a woman more than I do.¡± ¡°You can say whatever you want, but I saw more than you did kid,¡± Stoner replied, wriggling his eyebrows. ¡°Riiight,¡± Marcus muttered, unconvinced. ¡°You know, I used to do the same thing to my buddies, send the guy out to a girl telling him that she¡¯s digging him. And like a torpedo, watch as it trailed to the target and wait for the explosions.¡± Stoner chuckled. ¡°So, what do you want? I can assemble the rifle you wanted earlier, but it''s going to cost extra since it''s a custom job.¡± ¡°Nah, if it''s a personal project, I¡¯ll use my own money for it. Right tool for the right job. So how about you show me the good shit." Like wool being pulled off his eyes, the list opened up a whole plethora of choices. The gun nut in him rejoiced as he browsed through the long list of weapons. The list ranged from the multitude of AKM variants to AR-15s, to even the experimental models. There was even an HK G11 on the list, the unicorn of unicorns. Each unique rifle from the decades of weapons design beckoned for him to choose them. But the professional in him rose out to stamp Marcus¡¯ notion of picking up a tool he was not used to for a coming job. First. He needed a rifle chambered for the 5.56x45mm cartridge. That took out a considerable amount on the selection, but still plenty enough for Marcus to rack his brain for the best one for the job. Second. He needed a rifle with the right barrel length. The longer the better, further cutting down on the list. Like before, he was very partial to the AR-15 carbines, it can be considered to be the perfect rifle for the caliber but add the needed barrel length and a suppressor, would turn out a very long rifle thus making it awkward to move around in tight spaces. Sighing, Marcus needed a bullpup. Luckily, there was one in stock, which perfectly fit his requirements. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll take the MDRX. The one chambered in the 5.56, add a light, a sight, and a suppressor. Six windowed polymer mags, if you could match the color with the rifle, that would be nice. Get me some cheap reloads too, so I could get some range time with the thing.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Stoner nodded. ¡°You want it ready to go or do you want to piece them together yourself?¡± Marcus thought about it, but in the end, he shook his head. ¡°You do it. I got to get my ass outfitted for the upcoming job.¡± ¡°Alright. Come back for it later.¡± ¡°See you then.¡± ¡°See ya.¡± Marcus left the armory and turned towards the nearby outfitters. The three-slot vest he had used in the previous match needed either an upgrade or replacement. He needed a backpack too, for carrying their load, and if he could get one, a battle belt, which he could fit other utilities. Which reminded him. Marcus opened his friends list and found Columbus easily enough. Pressing the message button, he texted. ¡®Hey boss, Are you going to be the one to get the radios? Should I get myself a shield, or are you the one to get it for me?¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ll provide the radio for best connectivity and Shields since I doubt you¡¯ll have access to a quality one. The load-bearing gear, you¡¯ll pick out for yourself. Pick them as you prefer.¡± ¡®Got it, boss.¡¯ Marcus entered the shop and noticed the contrast against Stoner¡¯s armory. There, the walls were bare and drab, showing the bare metal walls of the ship. Add to the sour personality of the owner, it was a dull atmosphere all around. Here, the walls are furnished with clean paneling and a fresh coat of paint. The room was brightly lit from the multiple sources of light hanging from the ceiling, showcasing the displays and enticing potential customers. A female NPC greeted from behind the counter watching expectantly as Marcus entered. ¡°Hello. How may I help you today?¡± She greeted, giving an inviting smile, reminding Marcus of a sales clerk from a chic clothing store. ¡°Just browsing around.¡± Marcus simply replied. "Are you looking for anything in particular?" She asked. "Some load-bearing gear, but as for the exact thing," Marcus shrugged. "I''ll know it when I see it." The shopkeeper nodded, "They''re further up the back, past the set items and BDUs" She said pointing. Marcus nodded and went in the direction. On the way, he browsed around the shop, passing through the racks and mannequins displaying uniforms from multitudes of countries and eras. One display caught Marcus¡¯ eye and he went closer to have a better look. ¡°Shugart,¡± Marcus muttered, better remembered as Black hawk down. Marcus looked up at a mannequin wearing a worn-out American Delta force uniform, comprised of DCU under a Faust vest and Pro-Tec helmet, among other doodads.
[Gothic Serpent set] Level requirement: 50 Set item. Special effects will take effect once requirements are met. Set effect: Requirement: Be outnumbered at least 2:1 +5-50% base damage when outnumbered (2 items in the set) +10-100% total health when outnumbered (3 items in the set) Cannot be suppressed (4 items in the set) 50% experience penalty upon death (5 items in the set) -95% chance of dropping upon death (6 items in the set)
Marcus could only shake his head at the price; just under five million credits. Convert that into Martian credits and it''s someone''s monthly income. Looking around, Marcus then noticed a pattern. Brand new gear didn''t bring with it additional bonuses, unlike the worn-out looking equipment where they bring with them bonus stats of special effects such as the Gothic Serpent set. It explained Columbus'' mismatched setup. There were many other sets sold in the shop too, but with the tag price associated with the premium gear, Marcus didn''t even bother, simply choosing a pair of khaki cargo pants a thin gray shirt, and a cap to change into. They didn''t bring any bonus stats as Marcus only chose them for the looks. Picking out a pair of vests and a backpack totaling Marcus'' maximum carry weight, he approached the till and handed Columbus'' personal card.
This is to remind you that you have spent 8 hours in Virtual reality. Would you like to log out? [Y/N]
Marcus confirmed the alert and his consciousness was transitioned out of the virtual world and into reality. He came to as the pod¡¯s doors opened. He climbed out of the pod and dropped into his bed. His head felt foggy, reminding him of the times of walking out after finishing his finals back in college. ¡°Fuck yeah,¡± Marcus yelled, pumping his fist up in the air. It had been an eventful first session. Windfalls just continued to fall on his lap; free weapons, an all-expense-paid raid with a higher leveled player, and even a month¡¯s worth of living expenses tied up in in-game money. It was an unprecedented stroke of luck to a run-in with a pair of whales early in the game. Which reminded him, he needed to find a way to convert it to real cash. With a huff, Marcus leaped off the bed and reached for his phone. He connected it to the TV mounted on the wall and started surfing the web for information. After a few minutes of searching, it turns out that there is another form of currency in the game, Terminium. An exclusive premium currency that can only be purchased using real-world money. In return, it can also be converted back into real cash for a small fee, resulting in a fraction of what it''s worth. "Fucking moron," Marcus muttered. Although credits can be converted into Terminium through players brokering in-game, the price fluctuates depending on the demand. His bank account may be worth a thousand MRC right now but that could easily change in the future. Searching further, Marcus managed to track down a local player operating inside the Light of the Stars and planned to meet up with him after the job. Marcus also looked into the current gun culture. The American in him was appalled by the lack of gun information and the vilification attached to owning a tool. Something has to have happened, and he half expected that searching for it probably put him in some sort of list. Looking for the more obscure sites, his hope was dashed as everything was wiped. Forums and blogs were not spared, breaking the myth that everything uploaded to the internet can never be fully deleted. Almost as a consolation, the only surviving records of anything firearms-related he could find are museum sites detailing the history of the firearms. Still, it explained the lack of firearms knowledge players had in the game, giving Marcus a leg up while everyone else still hadn''t caught on. It also explained the look of surprise Ylenka and Columbus had when they saw Marcus¡¯ performance in the course. ''They must have thought that he was some prior military or something.'' Marcus thought. Shaking his head, he threw the phone on his bed and went on to prepare himself a cup of coffee. With cup in hand, Marcus went to his bathroom and set the fans to the highest setting. With the fans blasting full volume, he lit up a cigarette, sitting on the toilet as he stared blankly ahead, sipping on his brew after every puff of smoke. ''This is a game-changer,'' Marcus thought. He had the advantage of living at a time where modern combat and tactics had been readily available on the web for anyone with enough tech-savvy and determination to see. Taking a final puff, Marcus stubbed the final embers of the cigarette on the rim of his bowl and flushed it. He waited for a few more seconds to let the smoke dissipate into the vents to remove the risk of the fire station having a visit. Seeing himself clear, Marcus went back to his bedroom to pick up his diary. Writing had been prescribed by his shrink as a form of mental exercise and started jotting down ideas. Better, Marcus reached under his bed to find a small lockbox. It contained his most prized possessions. Marcus knew it was a pitiful place to hide something important. The problem was that he still hadn''t found a good location to hide it as He opened the box and threw the contents over his bed. It was essentially a time capsule made exactly for him. The box was given to him the moment he woke up. Inside was a rainy day fund of five one-ounce gold bullion, a collection of flash drives, an adapter, and a 21sst century phone with a dead battery and a charger. Marcus picked up the flash drive labeled family and set it aside. He had to admit, he purposefully avoided looking into the files left behind for him. He knew that part of them would contain videos of his family and he just didn''t want to look. The others contained his personal files. Terrabytes were full of videos and saved for him to watch when he would wake up. Marcus plugged the Charger into the socket, testing before that the voltages were compatible. He would further check the contents of the drives later. He looked at the clock. It was time for him to get back. His mind started to clear up. Marcus settled back into the pod and booted the game. He closed the door as he felt his consciousness being sucked back into the virtual world. Marcus spawned back in the middle of the Market, one level above the Armory, where he logged out. It seemed to be the spawn area in the ship and Marcus walked towards the elevator. Checking his friends list, both Columbus and Ylenka were out. Shrugging he went ahead to the Armory to get his rifle.
Attention
Desert Tech MDRX A modular, Multi-caliber weapon system with a compact bulpup design. Barrel lengths and calibers can be swapped by the user within minutes using the minimum amount of tools. Caliber: 5.56x45mm NATO Mods: Supressor, Holographic Sight, Weapon light Familiarity: 0 Requirement: 4 STR.
¡°Here you go. The suppressor is Fully concentric with the barrel, and the gas system is balanced for the rounds you¡¯re using. The adjustable gas block would help you with any fouling issues with the suppressor. I installed a pressure pad for the light and put it as far forward as I could to minimize suppressor shine and shadow. As for the sights, you''ll have to zero them yourself. Here are the rest of the magazines and some ammo to plink with.¡± Marcus picked up the rifle. Despite being made mostly of polymer, the rifle was just as heavy, around the weight of his AK. Fortunately, it didn''t affect the handling of the weapon, as the weight was distributed mostly to the buttstock. It allowed easier and quicker target acquisition of the rifle and Marcus could feel that he could keep the rifle aimed at a point for longer, even when using a single arm. Marcus tested the action and felt it slick. The ambidextrous charging handle was a good feature, along with the bolt release mechanism behind the magazine well. The trigger was fine, despite the inherent mechanical limitations of the bullpup design. The weapon screamed innovation especially with the forward case ejection that could be easily swapped and the quick caliber conversion designed into the weapon. Sending the charging handle forward with an HK slap, Marcus grinned. ¡°Let''s take this baby for a spin.¡± CH 10: First Raid - Heading out The next day, Marcus logged back in and found himself back in the middle of the market. He had changed back to his newbie clothes before he logged out and checked the time and saw that he was early. Smelling the smoke lingering in the air, Marcus followed the scent and ordered himself a meal.
Attention!
Your ranking in the leaderboards remains unchanged the previous day. You are awarded: +1 Fame (Pistol CQB Course) +2 Fame (Rifle CQB Course)
¡°You look like you''ve had a good day, young man. Maybe a good night?¡± She greeted, smiling. ¡°I had a windfall yesterday," Marcus replied, "But I was too tired to celebrate and so I thought to do it today instead. Then I remembered you, thinking that I should start the day the same way with one of your meals. Maybe it''s good luck." ¡°You keep that up and I¡¯ll be expecting a cut.¡± She replied, tossing a wet marinated skewer into the grill. It sizzled, throwing a thick cloud of smoke making the scent of grilled meat even stronger. ¡°Come on! Isn''t a meal a day not enough?" Marcus replied, taking a seat by the side, watching as the shopkeeper cooked his meal. Fire licked at the edge of the meat, charring it. Marcus salivated at the sight, only to be distracted as a man took the stool next to him. He didn''t need to look to know it was Columbus. ¡°You should know that people have noticed and are starting to look for you,¡± Columbus said. Raising his hand, attracting the attention of the old lady, he pointed at Marcus. ¡°I''ll take what he¡¯s having.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°Well, I was just going to take the rifle out for a spin but I got carried away. Besides, they wouldn''t look for a newbie.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true. Everyone is assuming that someone breaking two records in a day should have been high level. Now, a hunt is on to find the player Hartdegen into their group or clan. They''re seeing it as an open invitation and being in the leaderboards as a way to advertise your skill. I even caught a couple of the bigger guilds sending representatives to take a look. Surprisingly, no one seems to have found him.¡± Marcus grinned, "Maybe someone had gotten to him first." he said, just as his order arrived. ¡°Honestly, I wasn''t expecting that kind of fallout to happen. Would that be a problem?¡± ¡°Unlikely,¡± Columbus replied as he took his own order. ¡°So, are we good?¡± Marcus asked, taking the first bite off the meat. ¡°I have everything we need nearby or on hand. We will stop by Stoner¡¯s for the rest of the utilities. How about you, are you ready?¡± ¡°Well rested, well-fed and everything. I even got a good set of practice last night, got me familiarized with the rifle.¡± Marcus answered. ¡°I¡¯m just here for the buffs and because I like the taste.¡± He said taking another bite. ¡°It''s a lot better than a nutrient bar.¡± ¡°You don''t have to worry about buffs, I also brought stims for the exact reason,¡± Columbus answered, mirroring Marcus. ¡°Do you mind if I ask you something?¡± ¡°You''re the boss. Just no private stuff." ¡°Are you really a newbie, or are you a pro who just jumped into the game?" ¡°The first one. I only just got this game and just booted it this morning,¡± Marcus answered. ¡°You couldn¡¯t get any fresher than that.¡± Colombus watched him. ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± The two settled on a content silence as they both finished their meals. Marcus cleaned up after himself and returned the plates to the old lady who returned with a smile. Columbus did the same. ¡°Thank you for the good meal,¡± Columbus said. ¡°Yeah. It was good. I¡¯ll be back for it again old lady.¡± "See you later." The two left the stall with a friendly wave from the lady. The two made their way for the level below. Curious, Marcus asked, ¡°Is it good? Or did you just say that for the relations?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The meat.¡± Marcus clarified. ¡°Was it good?¡± ¡°It was fine.¡± Columbus waved off, then continued, ¡°You can say it was the best tasting barbecue I had here, but I had better.¡± Shaking his head, Marcus could only reply. ¡°Good for you.¡± ¡°Again. Since you''ll be fighting mobs that are at a higher level than yours, you¡¯ll have to get consistent criticals with the weapon. That means headshots or center mass. Pair your superior aim and some armor-piercing ammunition, it will guarantee that you will be able to punch well above your current weight class. Here¡¯s your ammo and I¡¯ll keep the rest of the ammunition with me since I¡¯ll just be your donkey for the moment until I shouldn''t have to anymore. Understood?¡±
[Equipment]
Earpiece headgear Face Cover Chest Rig Radio
Tactical Headset Ballcap [Empty] Universal Chest Rig (8 Slots) Multiband Radio (Encrypted)
Eyes
Ballistic Glasses Backpack Special
Assault Pack Water Bladder Pouch (1L)
Primary
MDRX
Clothing
Khaki Pants, Gray Shirt, Scarf
Secondary
[Empty]
Holster Scabbard
M1911 Ka-Bar
Weight Armor rating Shield
26/28 Kg 0 400
[Inventory]
Primary Secondary Pistol
MDRX Wt: 5.14 Kg [Empty] M1911 Wt: 1.21 Kg
Pockets Assault Pack Universal Chest Rig (8 Slots)
5.56x45mm M855A2 120 Rnd Bandolier x6 10 Rnd 5.56x45mm M855A2 Stripper Clips x4 20Rnd Box 5.56x45mm Hollow points x6
50 Rnd .45 ACP FMJ +P Water Canteen Dry Rations
Pockets Assault Pack Universal Chest Rig (8 Slots)
PMAG GEN 3 Windowed (30/30) PMAG GEN 3 Windowed (30/30) PMAG GEN 3 Windowed (30/30)
PMAG GEN 3 Windowed (30/30) PMAG GEN 3 Windowed (30/30) PMAG GEN 3 Windowed (30/30)
M1911 Mag (7/7) x2 RGD-5 Grenade x2 Flares x2 (Looped, Secure)
Wt: 28.8/29 Kg
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. The two stood in the back of the Armory, relatively empty at this time of day. Marcus had changed into this attire, a pair of desert khakis, a gray collared shirt, and a ballcap. Add the shemagh on his neck, he looked like a mercenary escorting a VIP in the middle of a warzone. Correction, Marcus thought, cosplaying would be a better description. ¡°Let''s do this.¡± Marcus nodded. Feeling a bit excited at the notion of getting out of the ship and finally getting some action. Columbus nodded. ¡°Follow me.¡± ¡°Good luck and keep safe!¡± Stone called with a wave to which both men returned. They left the armory with Columbus in the lead, armed with a 12 gauge shotgun, his pack was laden with all the supplies he could expect for both of them to need. If Marcus was correct, the amount of credits that have been sunk into his gear was enough to cover Marcus¡¯s monthly allowance from his social security. For a second, Marcus wondered whether it would be worth it to just pop Columbus in the head once they get out of the safe zone and take everything for himself. He immediately stamped at the thought, knowing that his long-term business with the man would far outweigh what he would gain in the short term. Columbus led the way towards the obscurer parts of the ship. They passed through winding corridors, side passages, and avenues that Marcus would be surely lost if not for Columbus. As for the man himself, Columbus was far from concerned and the confident way he took turns made it well known that he knew the location like the back of his hand. Steadily, they went lower and lower through the levels of the ship. They used access stairs and utility ladders as the elevators were not powered this deep into the ship. The further they went, the halls grew darker as hall lights failed from lack of maintenance and they had to stop and keep silent, listening for anyone that might be trailing them. ¡°Only a few people had the patience of going this far into the ship,¡± Colombus said in a whisper. ¡°Most of the ones that do try and explore these halls never end up getting back.¡± ¡°Someone killing them?¡± Marcus asked, also in a whisper. Columbus nodded. "The players curious enough to take a look give up after being lost and dying a few times. I suspected it was a quest the moment I heard about the rumors and set out to find out the truth. It took me a few failures along the way, but I believe there is a facility underneath the ship and it is the reason the ship crashed in the middle of the city and not in the open." ¡°It better be worth it then huh. All this effort and shit you put in.¡± Marcus muttered, periodically checking behind them as they walked. ¡°Most players enjoy the game by killing mobs and each other. As for me, I find my own enjoyment in discovery. As a result of that, I sometimes poke my nose in another group''s secret." "Is that why those dudes in the armory gave you the stink eye?" "Yes, exactly." Marcus grunted, and the two continued down the halls. The dimly lit hallways descended into total darkness and Columbus had to light their way with a red filtered flashlight. Marcus, in return, would light their rear in random intervals as to keep sure that no one followed, or were hunting them this deep into the bowels of the ship. Once in a while, the ship would emit a groaning sound as steel creaked under the thousands of tons of ship pressing down on it. After the sound, the ship would fall quiet, reminding Marcus of a cave. ¡°You know, I used to know someone like you describe. An extreme explorer type of guy.¡± He said. ¡°Used to? What happened to him if I may ask.¡± ¡°He died,¡± Marcus replied. ¡°He went to some underwater cave system to map and explore it but never came back. His family had to bury an empty coffin since they couldn''t find anyone willing to bring his body back." Columbus went quiet for a while, then asked. "Why would you tell me this?" "I don''t know." Marcus replied, "he just popped into my head. Couldn''t just forget the guy. He was great." "I''m sorry for your loss." "Yeah. I never really understood why he did it." Marcus shrugged. "Maybe you do. Fuck." He shook his head. "I don''t know. Sorry for not keeping my head in the game." "It''s fine. There was no harm done." Columbus replied, and the two fell back into silence. They continued on for a few more minutes until Columbus suddenly stopped and pointed his light into a hole in the wall. ¡°Over here. Into this maintenance crawlspace. I hope you''re not claustrophobic." Colombus said, taking his pack off and throwing it ahead into the hole and following after it. "Fuck." Marcus muttered, he took off his pack and threw it ahead of him, following Columbus. It was tight. Marcus had to crawl on his belly with his rifle in his hand just to fit. Looking ahead, he could only see Columbus'' light peeking at the edge of his backpack. He could feel the initial onset of claustrophobia coming in when he felt hands grab him and pull him out of the maintenance tunnel. Quickly, rolled into his back and raised his rifle, flicking the light on to see Columbus'' face looking down on the barrel of his rifle. Realizing his mistake, he turned off the light and pointed the barrel away from his employer. Standing to his feet, he muttered, "Sorry, about that. You can say that I got kind of edgy." "I understand," Columbus replied, turning his light to show the room they were in. It looked to be some sort of storage room. Shelves were stacked into one side in a heap as Marcus noticed that the room was sloping down to one end. ¡°It''s through there, I locked the door for it to just open to me.¡± He said, pointing to the only door leading into the room and punched a long line of codes into the pad. It had been gutted, with wires running down into the floor where it connected to some sort of battery. With a beep, the door unlocked, followed by the whirring of the magnetic locks. With a grunt, Columbus swung the door open while Marcus raised his rifle to cover. Marcus was the first inside the next room where there was a massive crack into the ground, the steel decking sheared as if it was just a piece of bread. Pale light seeped from underneath. Marcus looked down the crack to see both earth and broken concrete. Down below, it looked to be another room with a bright fluorescent light illuminated what Marcus could identify as a pair of metal tracks held together by concrete pads. ¡°We¡¯ll rappel down and we¡¯ll find a rail tunnel. It should be safe enough for the both of us to get down.¡± He said. "I can lower you if you cannot do it yourself." "I rappelled down a wall once." Marcus answered, "I think I can figure it out. You''ll have to tie me down though." ¡°Understood.¡± Colombus nodded. ¡°Spread your arms then, so I could rig you a line.¡± Marcus followed as instructed and was the first down the hole. Kneeling down, he unslung his rifle and checked the tunnel both ways. The tunnel was wide, about 20 yards, and was double vaulted with a central pylon support at intervals. Looking both ways, it was empty save for the rail lines that stretched out far into the tunnels. Their packs came second, lowered by Columbus and followed by him last. He retrieved the rope by pulling it down on one end. Columbus then coiled the rope before stowing it in a bag and leaving it on location. Marcus looked up at the wall. "I guess there''s no going back through there huh." "The point of no return." Columbus grinned. It was the first time Marcus ever saw the man wear the expression. "Doesn''t it excite you?" "That grin is creeping me out." Marcus answered, "It''s so unlike you. But yeah, it kinda does. Though I''m more looking forward when the bullets start flying both ways." Columbus nodded. He pointed at one end of the track, ¡°We go that way, the other path stretches for about a kilometer until it is blocked by a cave-in. Likely brought by the ship when it landed on top of whatever this facility is.¡± ¡°Got it, boss,¡± Marcus muttered, shouldering his pack and leading the way. They continued down the tunnels, sticking to the center pylons as it was the only piece of cover. "Hey, boss. Didn''t you say you had to fight your way in these tunnels?" "I did." Columbus answered, "And I''m just as stumped as you." They continued on, weary of ambushed until the answer presented itself in a form of a closed bulkhead. A massive steel door rolling on steel wheels stood defiant to anyone hoping passage. Marcus looked up at the monolithic gateway, wondering what the hell they should do now. "This was opened the last time," Columbus muttered, looking around. "We''re in luck." He said, pointing, "there''s a panel here. Give me time and I''ll be able to hack it." He said, running to the wall where a small display recessed into the concrete. "Take your time," Marcus muttered, holding his rifle at the ready. Seeing no place where enemies would come in, Marcus lowered his rifle and pulled out a pack of smokes. "The way you smoke, I''m guessing you had the same habit in real life too?" Columbus asked as he opened up the panel and inserted probes into the circuitry. "I suppose it made sense that you took that flaw in your character, seeing as it is natural to you.¡± ¡°Yeah." Marcus chuckled. "You''re right. How about you, what''s your flaw?¡± Columbus chuckled. ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s not how this works.¡± ¡°Fair.¡± Marcus replied, taking a drag, ¡°It''s not like I¡¯m keeping it a secret either.¡± The two fell in silence while Columbus worked on the panel and Marcus took watch. A while later, the panel beeped, the screen flickering into life. Columbus pressed at the buttons, and the machine responded with an audible click, followed by a machine whirr as the motors turned on. Rusty gears ground against each other, uttering an ear-splitting squeal as the multiton door slowly swung open. A small gap opened between the doors. Marcus stepped forward to take a peek only for a warm draft to come through the slit. Marcus could see nothing but darkness then recoiled from the smell coming from the other massive room. He backed away, coughing as he took a lungful of the most horrid air he had breathed in his life. Gagging, he pulled the shemagh over his nose, then aimed his rifle forward, expecting for something to come charging. They waited. One minute. Two minutes, but none came. Columbus and Marcus exchanged glances and nodded. Marcus stepped forward while it was not Columbus'' turn to check their rear. Howls echoed ahead of them, inhuman, savage. Able to bring forth humanity''s primal fear. It was followed by four-legged figures running towards them. Their forms barely illuminated by the weapon light, with the distance between them, could only be seen as vague silhouettes. Marcus flicked off the safety. "Point of no return," he muttered under his breath. CH 11: First Raid - Hole The howls echoing in the distance, paired with the multitude of eyes reflecting the flashlight back, was enough to turn a primal switch within Marcus¡¯ brain and turn his guts into liquid. His instincts screamed for him to run away, but Marcus quelled his fears and rose above the initial panic. He raised his rifle, aiming center at the closest set of bobbing eyes shining back at him. With the caliber and the range, Marcus needed little holdover. Pulling the trigger, the target dropped face first, skidding a few feet before grinding to a halt. Still, there were too many of them for Marcus to take on alone. He got a quick count of at least a dozen pairs of eyes and when he aimed at the second closest pair and sent a flurry of rounds in its direction until it too dropped. But there was no time for celebration. Marcus shifted his aim as two more shadows ran past the downed creature, unperturbed by the state of their fallen. Closer, within the reach of the light, Marcus could see tufts of silver fur covering patches of thick, dark skin. Their faces settled into an ever-present snarl as drool trailed down their mouths, eager to take a chunk of flesh from their bodies. Marcus took one more down when he felt his trigger slacken. His finger reaching forward, he pressed the mag release while his left hand reached to his vest for a fresh magazine. He chanced a glance to the side to find Columbus busily fiddling with the terminal. He looked back at the charging creatures in front as he slammed the magazine home and sent the bolt forward and into battery. The opening door slowed and stopped midway, leaving a gap half the size of the tunnel and creating a choke point. Marcus finished another creature as it managed past the bulkhead, peppering its body full of holes. He then noticed Columbus next to him, offering a grenade. Marcus grabbed it without a word and pulled the pin, tossing it to the other side. The grenade arced perfectly, landing past the bulkhead and bounced further inside, exploding with a sharp crack and a flurry of shrapnel. Pained howls echoed behind the door. Marcus raised his rifle at the opening as a creature stumbled into view, wounded and bleeding from the grenade. Without thought, Marcus shot the creature in the head, the round entering on one side of its temple and out the other, spraying bits of brain and bone over the gravel. He waited, his aim unwavering from the opening. None came. Marcus peeked around and saw the figures had turned back and were retreating. Thinking it was bait, Marcus walked calmly to the side and pied the corners. It was clear. Behind the bulkhead were four more of the creatures caught within the grenade¡¯s blast. Blood splattered on the walls, and chunks of meat scattered along the rails. Unwilling to be caught off guard, Marcus sent shots to the downed creatures¡¯ heads, making sure that none of them were simply playing dead. ¡°Looks clear,¡± Marcus muttered, reaching to his vest for a fresh mag. He then completed a tactical reload without taking his eyes off the direction the creatures came. ¡°These aren¡¯t the one you said we¡¯re going to find here.¡± He said. ¡°They weren¡¯t here the last time I came through. The door was not closed either, something must have been triggered.¡± Columbus replied, pulling out a flare and striking the end to light it. With a sizzling sound, the flare ignited, bathing the both of them with a dull red light. Throwing it as far as he could within the darkened portion of the tunnel, casting shadows. They saw no further movement.
Monster information:
Adolescent Malif Lvl. 4 A native creature of Terminus. Evolved to burrow into the ground to protect itself from predators, its numbers quickly dwindled after the arrival of humans on the planet as their burrows interfered with building foundations and infrastructure projects. They have been systematically hunted since but experienced a boom in their numbers after the war when all the efforts were shifted somewhere else.
¡°Game doesn¡¯t say anything useful about these, you know anything I should know about?¡± Marcus said, nudging one of the corpses to get a better look. The creature had a flat snout, jaws filled with jagged teeth, and a muscular jaw looking that could deliver a terrifying bite. On the ends of its paws were sharp claws and powerful arms that could easily disembowel a man if allowed to close. Marcus backed off. The smell emanating from the creature threatened to make him gag. Adjusting his shemagh to better cover his nose, he looked over to Columbus, who just struck another flare and threw it into the darkness. The flare landed further, illuminating holes dug into the concrete. ¡°I suggest using hollow points against them. Kill them using the least ammo possible since they are of little value except for experience points. They rarely attack head-on. Instead, they prefer sticking into the shadows and blind spots to ambush anyone caught unaware.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Marcus replied, changing his magazines to the right ammunition. ¡°Keep your head in a swivel and watch your shots.¡± Columbus nodded. ¡°We should be clear now. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡±
Alert!
You have now entered an unexplored facility. Consider all enemies encountered to be hostile.
The stench of rot and decay was much stronger past the door. Marcus had to fight his gag reflex for every breath, and he had to remind him he is not in the real world. Unless poisonous, the smell does not pose any danger, so is irrelevant. Soon, the stench lessened itself. His senses gotten used to the scent. Marcus kept his muzzle sweeping the holes dug into the concrete walls. Claw marks scored the surface of the concrete, trailing up to the overhead fixtures, which explained the lack of illumination. Marcus trailed his light on the walls. Holes punched through the concrete at intervals. ¡®Their sharp claws must¡¯ve been made of much harder material if it could dig into feet thick concrete and allow them to scale the walls¡¯, Marcus thought. Double tapping the first corpse he killed, Marcus stepped on the creature¡¯s arm and looked down at its digits, wondering if it could be used in bullets and how effective it would be against steel. ¡°Shit!¡± Columbus swore. He was looking ahead. Marcus followed his gaze to find a cave in blocking their passage further. Large chunks of concrete and twisted rebar reached up to the ceiling. With the explosives they brought, they could try blasting through the rubble, but nothing ensured that there wouldn¡¯t be tons of earth behind it. ¡°What now, chief?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°Cover me,¡± Columbus said. He then unslung his pack and laid it on the floor. He dug into it while Marcus lit another flare and threw it behind them, giving them an early warning for any Malif that tries to sneak towards them. Columbus pulled out a rod and pushed it to the gravel substrate. Once deep enough, he plugged in a length of wire and connected it to a datapad. Booting the device, he punched the needed codes and looked up. ¡°I¡¯m going to set off an explosive charge.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a little small if we¡¯re going to have a chance blowing through that, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°This is a survey charge.¡± Columbus answered, ¡°With this, I¡¯ll be able to clearly map out the ground up to a hundred meters away. Any further would still yield results but less clear.¡± ¡°Fire in the hole, then.¡± ¡°Firing,¡± Columbus said, moving away from the sunken rod, followed by a muffled thump. Dust erupted from the rod, jetting up to the ceiling, followed by thousands of lines scrolling through Columbus¡¯ pad. Howls echoed in the distance, and Marcus threw another flare further. Dozens of glowing eyes looking at them from the edge of the light. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°No sudden moves. We got company.¡± Marcus warned. Slowly, he thumbed off the safety and loosened the grenade in his pouch. He unhooked the safety clip and raised the grenade to his mouth. Biting down at the ring, the grenade hung in the corner of his mouth as he slowly raised his rifle. If lucky, Marcus could mow down a significant number of the creatures growling at the distance, but the next step after was a conundrum. He wondered whether it would be better to throw the grenade next or just reload the rifle. ¡°How are we doing?¡± He asked, the grenade hanging between his teeth giving him a lisp. ¡°Still processing,¡± Columbus answered, chancing a glance up. ¡°Don¡¯t aggro them if you can help it.¡± ¡°Can you make it go faster?¡± Marcus asked, watching as the group slowly crept forward. The red glow of the flare reflecting off the creature¡¯s white fur made it seem look as if covered in blood. Fearing that shooting would only cause them to charge, Marcus held his fire. ¡°Things are about to go down real soon and I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be the ones coming out on top.¡± ¡°I got it.¡± Columbus declared, pointing ahead and at a particular hole in the wall, big enough for a crouched person to fit. ¡°That one leads around the cave in and to some sort of complex.¡± ¡°Lead the way. I¡¯ll cover you,¡± Marcus replied, flicking his selector into full auto. He had decided, if they charge, then he would dump the magazine and take as much as he could before throwing the grenade and jumping into the hole. Hopefully, the blast would discourage the beasts from pursuing them further. Luckily for the both of them, the pack simply stayed back, growling and snarling as if to warn them not to go any further. Marcus was eager to follow as he watched Columbus disappear into the hole. A couple of seconds later, he ducked into it backward, still keeping his eye on the pack. Still growling, they stayed by the edge of the light until Marcus backed into the hole, deep enough to not see them anymore. Deeper, the dull red light of flares faded into darkness. Concrete walls of the tunnel gave way into packed soil, crumbling and falling into Marcus as his gear scraped against the earth. For a while, they moved in deep darkness. Marcus would pulse his light to make sure none of the creatures pursued them when a soft green glow radiated behind him, Marcus craned his neck to look over and saw Columbus had broken open a vial of Chemlight, dropping it to the ground. In the tunnels, the light was bright enough to cast shadows even in the distance, allowing Marcus a much easier time to watch for anyone trailing them. ¡°There¡¯s a drop ahead. I¡¯m going to go first.¡± Columbus said, followed by the dull thud of his pack hitting solid ground, then a pair of boots. The width of the tunnel forced Marcus to only go forward or back. He cannot turn around unless he took off his pack. Finding their rear clear, he unclipped his bag and let it fall to the ground. He grabbed the grenade hanging between his teeth, securing it on his vest, and turned around just as Columbus was reaching his arm inside to take the pack. Marcus followed, dropping from an armpit height into solid concrete. They were in a small storage room. Shelves bolted to the wall lay empty, the single overhead socket holding a broken light bulb. A single chemlight illuminated the space. The green glow showed four bare concrete walls, making a square room with a steel door leading out. The door was ajar. Marcus led the way, slowly pushing the door open and peeking around the corners for anything hiding. There was nothing. The door led to a long empty hall. Doors recessed into the wall at intervals and large pipes laid out overhead. If Marcus wasn¡¯t wrong about the color-coded pipes, then it would be mainly air, electricity, network lines, and an automatic sprinkler system. In the far corner of the hall, he could see the dull glow of a flickering firelight. ¡°This is a facility alright,¡± Marcus whispered, doing a quick diagnostic check of his weapon. ¡°I still can¡¯t help you with the fighting,¡± Columbus replied, looking through his screens. ¡°The quest hasn¡¯t been updated yet.¡± ¡°No problem,¡± Marcus answered. ¡°You got anything else in there that could help with scouting out hostiles?¡± ¡°I got a thermal scope. And no, I won¡¯t hand it to you and you can¡¯t put it on your rifle.¡± Columbus said, reaching over to his pack, and pulling what looked to be a handle of a shield, without the shield itself. ¡°This one, I brought exactly for the occasion.¡±
Item Information:
Assault Energy Shield Favored by Earth military for use in ship boarding actions due to its light weight and high output. The size of the field can be modified according to user specifications. 2000 SU (100%) Accepts fusion cells Does not recharge
¡°Okay, we¡¯ll use that when shit goes south. For now, I¡¯ll lead and you keep watch on our asses.¡± Marcus said, leading the way out of the side room and down the hallway. Watching his steps, he crept towards the light and stopped just short of the corner. Peeking around, Marcus saw two small figures gathered around a small campfire, looking into the firelight.
Monster Infromation:
Goblin A native creature of Terminus. Considered as a primitive sapient species from their societal structures and low level thinking. Advocates pursue integration to the humanity but their inherent barbarism makes their case a difficult subject to argue for.
Marcus pulled his head back around the corner and flashed two fingers at Columbus. For being sentries, they were doing a piss poor of a job. For a second, he wondered what the hell goblins were doing in the game but supposed that they were a permanent fixture in any game now, that along with zombies. Columbus nodded, tracing a line on his neck. Marcus nodded, flicking his rifle out of safety and into semi-automatic mode. Marcus took a deep breath and turned around the corner, his rifle held against his shoulder, and aimed at the two oblivious sentries. They were unarmored, and so he didn¡¯t need to swap cartridges from the hollow points already loaded. He centered the dot on the nearer creature¡¯s head and pulled the trigger. Even with the attached suppressor, the report was loud within the confines of the concrete hallway. Marcus saw his target¡¯s head snap away from him. Blood and brains sprayed out of the exit wound, coating the other sentry and startling it. It let out a surprised shriek, only to be silenced as Marcus took another shot, hitting it in the base of its skull, killing it instantly. Its head snapping back as hit the ground without another sound. The hall was empty. Marcus approached the bodies and kicked the first goblin¡¯s arm away from the fire as started burning, sizzling, and popping, letting out the smell of charred meat. He didn¡¯t need something like a game to cause him to hate his favorite meal, even if it was artificial.
Monster Infromation:
Goblin Sentry Lvl. 6 Unmotivated, undisciplined, despite these characteristics, the goblin sentry still retains a respectable position in the goblin hierarchy due to its keen senses.
Looking around, Marcus noted the smoke trailing from the fire and the burnt hand of the corpse rise and be sucked into the vents overhead. The partial vacuum pressure in the vents meant that air circulation is still working, albeit weakly. ¡°This is promising,¡± Columbus muttered, kneeling over the two corpses. He cut the satchel hanging from the goblin¡¯s belt and fished out a shotgun shell, its plastic casing scratched and the brass base marred and pitted. The guns were simple slamfire pipe shotguns made of rough pipes and cut wood. ¡°We are weapons-free from now on. Don¡¯t expect them to be defensive like the Malifs we passed. They will trample over each other just to get to your loot.¡± ¡°Got it. Kill them all.¡± Marcus replied, looking further down the hall. It provided no cover, which meant that anyone walking down it would easily see them silhouetted against the firelight behind them. ¡°We need to keep moving down the hall.¡± He said. Columbus nodded, dropping the satchel to the ground, and followed Marcus as he led the way further down. Ahead of them, a metal door was recessed to the side. Marcus paused, pulsing his light to the door and alerting Columbus. Hugging the walls, Marcus kept to the side of the door and approached it as quietly as he could without compromising speed. They reached it. The to paused by the side and Columbus crossed to the other side to open it while Marcus covered. With a nod, Columbus reached for the handle, only for it to open inward by itself. Marcus pressed the light on, illuminating a pair of surprised goblins, their eyes wide and pupils constricted into slits from the bright light. In their hands were more of the makeshift guns, short barrels and wooden stocks held together by bits of wire and held in one hand like pistols. Marcus didn¡¯t wait for an invitation nor an order from his boss, shooting the first goblin in between the eyes, flicking his aim up to the second goblin, and hitting two rounds center mass, killing the two instantly. The first goblin dropped into the ground, its legs no longer bearing the weight of its body. The second fell back, its body hitting the ground, its last spasms causing its fingers to clamp up around its weapon, pulling the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the halls, followed by panicked chattering echoing from further down the hall. ¡°Stealth mission failed,¡± Marcus muttered, surging into the room to find it empty, save for clumps of bedding scattered on the floor. Likely their sleeping quarters. He then changed mags after clearing it. He looked over to Columbus, who nodded. Pulling out his assault shield, he turned on the device. The shield emitted a translucent field the size of a man¡¯s torso. Columbus took the lead and Marcus trailed behind, rifle raised. Thinking about it, Marcus didn¡¯t know what to feel about making his employer his own piece of cover but in the end, decided that his opinion was moot. CH 12: First raid - Close Call The two crept out of the room and made their way further down the hall. Marcus kept his hand on Columbus¡¯ shoulder as he aimed forward and around him. The slight shimmer of the Columbus¡¯ shield showed which way not to shoot as the two made their way towards the chatter, steadily growing louder as they came closer. The dark hallway led to a closed door that opened up to a large room. Through the weak light, Marcus could see open space, with crates on the other side stacked up, making a platform, and noticed the circular shape of a spotlight just before being blinded by its bright light. Fire erupted. Marcus ducked down to take cover behind Columbus¡¯s shield, which sparked and flared for every round that hit it. They retreated to the safety of the previous room just as Columbus¡¯ shield broke and both took fire on their personal shields.
Warning!
Shield levels critical!
¡°I counted about two dozen hiding behind their crate barricade.¡± Columbus said, pressing a button on his shield, spitting out a fusion cell as he replaced it with a fresh one. The cell landed on the concrete, smoking and sizzling. Marcus kicked it away, towards the other room for it to be blasted away by the firing squad posted in the other room. He tried to count the shots to piece how many of them carried automatics but couldn¡¯t put a number as the individual reports melded into each other, sounding almost like a roar. ¡°I think I can chuck a grenade behind their barricade. It would be tight though, with that much firepower. They could easily melt us if caught in the open a second too long.¡± Marcus said, watching as his shield slowly ticked to a full level. Pulling out a pack of cigarette, he bit one by the end and lit it. Puffing, he reached over to the door and closed it in case anyone had the bright idea to throw a grenade their way. There was no other way around it. They would have to fight their way through. Columbus handed over a grenade. The thick cylindrical shape marked it as smoke. Marcus crept towards the door, pulled the pin, and opened the metal door a crack, just enough to throw the grenade as far to the other side as he could. They met him with more fire, a few came close, but no rounds hit. ¡°How are we doing on explosives?¡± He asked Columbus. ¡°Three frag grenades, half dozen flares, a dozen chemlights, half a dozen flashbangs, and two claymores.¡± Columbus answered, ¡°Oh, an one more survey charge. As for the shield, I have ten more spare fusion cells to keep it charged, not including the one already loaded.¡± ¡°That should be enough.¡± Marcus muttered as he waited for the smoke to develop. With a cigarette dangling between his lips, Marcus sent round around the corner, firing blindly, more to keep their heads down and keep them occupied. Coughing sounded from the other side. The smoke must have reached them, Marcus thought. With grenade in hand, finger on the pin, he kicked the door fully open, then pulled the pin and let go of the spoon. It bounced against the concrete wall and clattered onto the floor. Marcus waited for a second, in his mind muttering one Mississippi, before throwing it around the corner and as deep into the room as he could. Panicked screeches echoed in the other room before being cut by the clap of the grenade going off. ¡°Fire in the hole.¡± Marcus muttered, pulling another grenade from his vest. A second grenade might be a waste, but it was better than risking going out in the open and getting mowed down like an idiot. Pulling the pin, he chucked the second grenade, high and deep as he did the first, only for return fire to land by the door. Most missed Marcus, but some still found their mark, shattering his already depleted shield and hitting his arm.
Warning!
Critical damage received. Right hand crippled. Pain effect. Bleeding effect.
¡°Ah. Fuck.¡± Marcus cursed, pulling his arm back into cover. He looked over his arm to see blood pooling around a spot on his forearm. It didn¡¯t look too bad. His hand was intact, but the bullet hole caused his hand to twitch uncontrollably. ¡°I didn¡¯t know it hurts this much.¡± ¡°Let me.¡± Columbus was quick on the draw and grabbed Marcus¡¯ arm, jabbing a syringe near the wound. ¡°You should wait a full minute to let that wound heal.¡±
Attention!
Pain effect reduced. Bleeding effect abated. Regeneration multiplied. Stress levels raised.
The sound of a grenade exploding brought Marcus back to the task at hand. As the pressure wave passed over them, the screams and moans of pain followed close behind. He threw the second grenade in a perfect arc, high and far. It must¡¯ve landed behind the barricade and exploded. ¡°No.¡± Marcus grunted. The pain, despite being reduced by the Stimulant and virtual, was unlike he had ever experienced. ¡°We have to capitalize on this while they¡¯re still reeling. I¡¯m going in. Throw in a flashbang as far as you can. That should buy me space to move around.¡± He said, switching his grip on the rifle to his left hand. Although not ideal, the rifle¡¯s ergonomic design should make up with the lost manipulation.
Attention!
[+3 health]
Securing the rifle¡¯s stock against left shoulder, Marcus jerked his head to the side, signaling for Columbus to get on with it. Columbus only shook his head dejectedly, but followed. He crept to near the door and pulled out a flashbang, throwing the nonlethal grenade inside, followed by a loud flash and a boom. Marcus was already moving past the door as the flashbang exploded, rifle raised. The smoke billowing in the center of the room restricted his vision, but still left enough to see figures moving about in the smoke. Marcus kept the rifle raised, his weak hand on the weapon felt strange. He never practiced shooting with his left as his chance of fighting with a rifle is slim, using his weaker side even more so. Still, within point blank range, practice and familiarity contributed very little. He centered his dot on one figure stumbling within the smoke; it hunched forward, clutching its side as it barely able to keep his grip on his weapon. With a single shot hitting center mass, Marcus took the figure down. Stepping through the smoke and up the barricade, Marcus witnessed what he could succinctly describe as carnage. Limbs laid on the floor, their owner out of sight, bodies mangled by the storm of shrapnel, lay in pools of blood. Untouched survivors stumbled around, slipping on the floor made slick by the fluids of their comrades, disoriented by the flashbang and unable to fight back. It was a simple affair to raise his rifle and shoot them in the head. It felt like an execution. The wounded, seeing the fate of their companions, tried to crawl away in futility as Marcus spared them no mercy and lined up shots to take them out. Marcus was starting to feel sick. The little figures laying on the ground looked too much like small children. What kind of person would make a game like this? Marcus thought to himself as he finished executing the last of the goblins.
Attention!
[+3 Health]
¡°It¡¯s just a game.¡± Marcus sighed. Crunching concrete sounded behind him and he spun around, only to see Columbus looking over at the devastation. He looked up at Marcus and nodded. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.¡°Good work.¡± He said, jumping over the barricade and kicking over a goblin corpse. Underneath it was a weapon, long-barreled, a bipod, fitted with a distinct squarish wooden hand guard and a belt fed 7.62x39mm. It was an RPD light machine gun. A notification popped up and Marcus quickly swiped it away as he isn¡¯t interested on the information. ¡°This is concerning.¡± Columbus muttered, picking up the light machine gun and laid it on the crate. ¡°If we keep going against these kinds of weapons, then it will be more than a challenge.¡± ¡°I¡¯m more worried about how many bodies we have to punch through.¡± Marcus muttered. ¡°How are your levels coming along?¡± Columbus asked, reminding Marcus to check. Seeing as sometimes the alerts could be annoying whenever they pop up unexpectedly, Marcus made sure the day before to make a comprehensive filter on which notifications would pass his muster. It basically filtered everything except for damage reports, quest updates, mob notification among other critical information. If it brought no significant information Marcus could use within the moment, it would be pushed to the back, to be reviewed for later.
Congratulations!
You have reached level 8!
¡°Pretty good. I think,¡± Marcus replied, ¡°Got 7 level ups from that.¡± ¡°That¡¯s expected.¡± Columbus nodded. ¡°Allocate your stats while we wait for you to heal up. We¡¯ll start moving once you get to full health.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t we going to loot up?¡± Marcus asked, looking down at the floor. Thankfully, the bodies are starting to despawn, the goblin corpses disintegrating into translucent wisps of smoke leaving random objects. Curious, Marcus picked up the loose ammunition and raised it to better see under the meagre light.
Item
Corroded Ammunition Unreliable ammunition. May cause feeding issues, misfires, hangfires, squibs, overpressure, among others. Use at your own risk.
Pitting and corrosion covered the round, Marcus spat at it, wiping what green he could take off to see how severe the corrosion was. Looking at the bottom, the primer was unsalvageable, hard and crusted green covered it. But on the casing, the extent of damage didn¡¯t seem too bad. As for the bullet itself, it was the reason Marcus picked it up. The black paint on the bullet was a dead giveaway. Armor piercing. If Marcus could find a way to pull these bullets out and reload them, that would be a reliable way for him to find premium ammunition. He had seen nastier looking ammunition refurbished into looking brand new and in this game where bullets can be as good as any currency, he could make easy money. ¡°We still have a lot to go. And with the two of us, picking up loot would only slow us down.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°And Hartdegen.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± The tone in which Columbus said his name made him immediately look up. ¡°I know your attempt turned out to be the best way to approach this particular problem. But we only got one shot at this, I suggest you minimize taking risks like you did. I brought you here to help me complete my quest, not for you to get yourself killed. Are we clear?¡± ¡°I got it, boss. Won¡¯t do it again.¡± Marcus said, pocketing the bullet. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to be careful next time.¡± With that, Columbus nodded. With his left hand, Marcus pressed the mag release, dropping the partially spent magazine to clatter atop the crates. Columbus grabbed the magazine and started packing it full with loose ammunition. Marcus reached to his vest for a fresh one, slotting it into the well with a satisfying click. Looking at his wounds and how much it took out of his health pool, Marcus decided to put all his stats on constitution, boosting his health by sixty points. It wouldn¡¯t make him a tank, but will probably allow him to take one more shot before dying.
Name: Hartdegen Race: Human Player ID: 4374711912965355
Level: 8 Experience: 1143/11268 [Equipment and Inventory]
Health: 190/190
Stamina: 100/100 [Quests]
Shield: 214/400
Fame: 28 Energy: 85/100 [Traits and Skills]
Affiliation: Renegades Hydration: 80/100
Stats
Str End Cons Dex
4 (1.1) 5 (1.3) 9 3 (1.1)
Cha [Empty] [Empty] [Empty]
5
With Marcus¡¯ magazines packed and health fully regenerated. The two exchanged glances and made for the other door. And into another hall. Moving carefully, the two checked the rooms one by one, only to find them all empty. Food, water, and other essentials were left half eaten and half drank on top of the tables, pots still boiled over the fire, simmering with a foul smelling odor. If Marcus had to guess, they had somehow caught them in the middle of their meal, and everyone who could have been in the facility had gathered around the other room. It explained the speed with which they had assembled and the unorganized mess, which allowed Marcus to take almost all of them with just a couple of grenades. If they had been smarter, they would have held back a reserve to bolster their numbers when they take heavy casualties or at least set up a base of fire to allow a covered retreat if the situation called for it. Marcus shrugged. It was easy to critique something after the fact, but was sure it could have been much more chaotic. Picking up a rusty AK leaning on the wall, he tested the action. The noise attracted Columbus¡¯ attention, to which he quickly took off the dust cover and took out the bolt carrier, bending the piston and throwing it on the corner. They moved further down the halls, past utility rooms filled with still running generators attached to ventilation systems. Panning his light, the machines looked to be maintained, albeit minimally, but still displayed the goblin¡¯s mechanical aptitudes. Pushing out, they found themselves back at the rail tunnel. It was a dead end, with rubble blocking one side. Light seeped from the other, but Marcus couldn¡¯t see the source as the tunnel curved. They followed the curving rails and found the light source. Checking, there were no goblins around, and the two looked up to what looked to be a shrine. CH 13 - First Raid - Surprises ¡°Looks clear.¡± Columbus said, lowering his thermal goggles. The two had spent half an hour hanging back, out of the light, and scouting out the location. Learning from the past encounter, they made sure never to be ambushed again. ¡°Should we go in now?¡± Marcus asked, biting down on the hose connected to his water bladder and sucked. Warm water flooded his mouth and swallowed with a grimace as it tasted like polymer.
Attention!
You are well hydrated 100/100
¡°I think we should.¡± Columbus replied, checking his energy shield, and led the way. Marcus trailed behind him, rifle at the low ready as he looked out for any surprises. The wall up ahead was alight with small candles, their light barely able to reach up the ceiling, covered a crude mural made using white paint against the bare concrete. Marcus spared a quick glance at the wall then went back to covering their backs. Ahead, blocking their path, was another bulkhead. The large double door blocked the whole 20 yard span of the tunnel. But unlike the first one they encountered, a side door was recessed into the tunnel walls, resembling a vault door. It was closed at the moment to which Marcus kept his eye on. ¡°What¡¯s keeping us?¡± He asked. ¡°This mural. It¡¯s a story. Like a cave painting.¡± Columbus replied in a distracted voice. ¡°Does it have porn on it?¡± Marcus asked sarcastically. ¡°Because if it doesn¡¯t, then we better get a move on since were just standing around here in the open like a bunch of dumb asses.¡± ¡°Its an obvious clue.¡± Columbus replied, looking around, then with the thermal. ¡°There! See that?¡± He said, pointing at the ceiling. Marcus followed it and saw a pair of concentric metal circles in the ceiling. It reminded him of a retractable bollard that is used downtown parking areas. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Here, better to see for yourself.¡± Columbus said, handing over the thermal scope. With one eye closed, the dark interior of the tunnel was replaced with shades of gray. Through the scope, the walls were painted in dark colors, cold, while the metallic circle up in the ceiling gave off some heat compared to the cold background.
Alert!
MK.4 Spider turret Recessed. Cannot be further identified.
¡°More reason to get the fuck out of here.¡± Marcus replied, looking up at the device. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Columbus replied, ¡°If we didn¡¯t trip its sensors in our approach, then staying here would do nothing. Besides, this is part of my quest. I need to find out what happened here.¡± ¡®Fuck.¡¯ Marcus whispered, ¡®first up in my ass for doing dumb shit and now you¡¯re doing the same yourself¡¯. He followed what Columbus was looking at. Despite the crude drawings, it was easy to find out what story the mural was saying. The pointed eared figures drawn in the wall likely depicted the goblins. They once lived on the surface, from the drawn picture of the sun. They were then forced underground by the arrival of the humans. There they lived in hardship and squalor, barely staving off starvation as they risk going over ground foraging for food and risked getting hunted down. Then the war happened. A separate mural depicted humans fighting their own, one side shooting at each other while a few figures depicted as wielding the sun itself. Bodies littered the battlefield and cities burned. Then an exodus. Figures lined coming out from under some cave and found this underground location, drawn as a shattered city over their new home. ¡°Oh no.¡± Columbus said suddenly. Marcus looked over to find him wandered into the distance and looking at his notifications. He looked back to him with a face full of concern, followed by a mechanical whirring sound as the sentry gun above lowered from its recessed position. Even from the meager light, Marcus could see the overly large barrel, protected from frontal fire by thick armor, folding down and aimed itself. Not needing any command, Marcus ran towards the side door nearby. Reaching it first, Marcus turned the wheel. The lock disengaged smoothly under greased gears. He pulled. The heavy door opened too slowly, Marcus¡¯ low strength taking more effort than it should. Glancing to the side, Columbus ran towards him. ¡°Come on!¡± Marcus yelled, unwilling to stay a bit more to find what the Sentry gun was capable of. But instead of speeding up, Columbus slowed, pulling out his shield and energizing it. Eyes wide, the shield shimmered as he pointed it towards the ceiling, where the gun was positioned. Marcus realized what was about to happen. Reaching down where his rifle hung, Marcus shouldered the gun and aimed. Looking up, the turret barrel pointed at his employer, peeking between the enormous slats of armor. From his angle facing the side of the gun, Marcus saw wires and hoses feeding to the mechanism. Marcus fired. Bullets sparked against the mechanism but did nothing as the sentry gun unleashed its own brand of hate. The darkness of the tunnel temporarily turned to daylight as a bright beam of concentrated light emerged from the barrel. Dots formed around Marcus¡¯ vision. It was almost like looking directly at the sun. Still, he kept shooting. More sparks formed around the mechanisms, and for a split second, Marcus feared what had happened to his employer. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Keep shooting!¡± Columbus yelled through the din, answering his unvoiced question. With hope restored, Marcus obeyed, spraying the mechanism behind the armor and hoping to hit a vital part. The turret fired once more, this time in a shorter burst and at a dimmer output. Yet Columbus was still alive. The barrel still swiveled as it kept Columbus in its sight. Marcus¡¯ angle was getting tighter as the barrel, along with the armor slats, now pointed his way. ¡°Run faster!¡± Marcus shouted back. His trigger slackened, and he pushed the mag release. Flicking the magazine inside the door, he reached for his vest for a fresh one and slammed it home. Pressing the bolt release, he raised his rifle and found the barrel of the Sentry Gun pointed his direction. The armor slats giving him no angle to shoot at the vital parts of the machine. Columbus ran past him, entering through the already opened door. Marcus followed close, seeing as there¡¯s no longer any point in fighting. He reached for the handle and pulled; the heavy door closing almost too slowly. He looked up and in slow motion, saw as the turret charged up and unleashed its deadly beam of light. ¡®We¡¯ll shit.¡¯ He thought as it would look like he¡¯d finally know what dying in a game felt like. A harsh bump pushed him to the side. It was Columbus. With his shields raised, he aimed it to block the beam while also pulling the heavy door close. The turret fired, and the shield flared. It emitted an impressive light show lasting but a split second as it broke. The beam punched through his personal shields, burning him as he fell, barely managing to finally shut the door close and surround them in darkness once more. ¡°Hey. You alive?¡± Marcus asked, slowly getting up. He reached for his vest and broke a chemlight, lighting up the dark with its soft green glow. ¡°Barely.¡± Columbus croaked. Marcus panned the light towards him to find his charred body. Steam rose from his body as he turned his head to face him. Half of his face was burned. Black charred skin cracked in places, revealing red and pink flesh underneath. ¡°Man, you look like you¡¯re fresh out of the oven.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°I hope you still got more of that regen stim.¡± ¡°On my vest. Bottom right pouch.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°Just jab it on my arm and press the button on the end. Its spring loaded and it should take care of the rest.¡±
Item Information:
Phoenix Regenerator Stim Powerful regeneration Stimulant. Using a cocktail of super-advanced medical Nanobots, this stimulant can heal any type of wounds ranging from burns to femoral bleeding, even bring someone from the brink of death. Removes pain Removes contusion Stops and prevent bleeding +20 health/3 seconds Debuffs: Tremor (60 minutes) X.8 Health (180 minutes) X.8 Endurance -90 Energy -90 Hydration
Powerful regeneration Stimulant. Using a cocktail of super-advanced medical Nanobots, this stimulant can heal any type of wounds ranging from burns to femoral bleeding, even bring someone from the brink of death. Just as instructed, Marcus jabbed the end on Columbus¡¯ arm. With a press of a button, the cocktail shot straight to through his veins and started the healing process. The effect, although weak at first, was immediate. Within a minute, Columbus¡¯ skin healed before his eyes. The cracks in his skin melded and fused together while his burns regressed from its black, charred state into bright pink then to his normal skin tone as if nothing happened. Columbus sat up, patting the dust off his clothes, and took Marcus¡¯ offered hand. ¡°That must be the good shit, huh?¡± Marcus said, pulling Columbus up to his feet. ¡°If you had the same level of wounds, I won¡¯t hesitate to use ¡®the good shit¡¯ on you.¡± Columbus replied, picking up his shield and ejecting the spent core and inserting a fresh one. ¡°As you can see, I almost died saving you. If that spider turret used actual projectiles instead of lasers we would have died in the first two salvos.¡± ¡°Lucky us.¡± Marcus muttered. He looked back at the door, knowing full well that his rounds only managed minimally damage the turret. Worse, he was even shooting it from its vulnerable side. ¡°So, I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s no way out that way anymore.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to guess. I assure you we can¡¯t.¡± Columbus replied, ¡°Despite energy shields specifically being the counter to energy weapons, One salvo from that turret was enough to break this shield and still have enough power to reduce a significant part of my personal shield. Even if we try, there is no way for us to go back that way as we are.¡± ¡°Right. You good then?¡± Marcus said, picking up the discarded magazine on the floor. ¡°Give me a minute. I need to recover from the debuffs.¡± Columbus said, putting his pack on the floor. He pulled out a pack of dried rations and started tearing through it, raising both his energy levels and hydration as he took a sip from his own water bladder. ¡°Doesn¡¯t hurt to say you need a break.¡± Marcus replied, following to sit on the cold concrete floor. Columbus finished eating his fill and for a while, they sat staring at each other until Marcus broached the subject. ¡°So, can you tell me what the hell just made that turret go all murdery?¡± ¡°It¡¯s my unique job. Chronicler. Any undocumented lore I discover awards me with an enormous amount of experience. I was too engrossed, and I blundered. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Marcus grunted. ¡°So that reading from that wall gave you enough experience to level up break the limits of the quest.¡± Which reminded him to pull up the quest.
Quest Updated!
The path to nowhere (Updated) Type: Discovery Description: There is a hole guarded with security systems for high levelled players. Where does it go? Requirements: Maximum level 20, 2 players, (Failed.) Find out what is in the end of the tunnels. Find a way to get out alive. Rewards: ??
¡°We¡¯ll, at least we didn¡¯t fail it yet. We can still keep going.¡± Marcus said. ¡®It would have been a shame for him to go to all that trouble to just fuck it all up himself.¡± ¡°Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t an essential requirement.¡± Columbus nodded. ¡°So how the fuck does someone get a unique job like yours?¡± Marcus asked, curious. ¡°Someone doesn¡¯t just go out and take it. It is awarded depending on the actions and the play style of the player, awarded by the game¡¯s AI as it makes the game from turning stale for everyone.¡± Columbus said, ¡°Maybe after this, you¡¯ll be awarded your own.¡± He said, standing up. ¡°I¡¯m all healed now. We should keep going.¡± Marcus nodded and stood up. He gave his vests a pat to check their weight and make sure they are loaded. He then popped off the magazine and angled it to the light to look down at the stack of bullets. It was full. The brass cartridges glinted from the light, its gray steel penetrator with its copper jacket peeked over the case. Marcus was sure the round would have fared better at punching through the sentry gun¡¯s metallic casing than the hollow points he had loaded prior. He shared just as much blame as Columbus. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be running AP ammo from now on, just so you know.¡± Marcus said as Columbus took his defensive position up front. ¡°Go ahead.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°There¡¯s no point being frugal now.¡± CH 14: First Raid - Destination The halls, compared to the last location, were brighter lit. Here, there was power. Overhead fluorescent lights illuminated the hallways at intervals, but somehow giving a foreboding feeling. If more defenses like the turret are up ahead, they will probably be up for a difficult time. The hallway branching from the train tunnel was short. Up ahead, they could see a single door on the end of the hall, with another windowed door leading up to a side room. Slowly, they approached the windowed door. Peeking through the window, monitors lined the walls. Underneath is a table lined with keyboards. There was also what looked to be a coffee machine tucked to the side, but all were turned off. Patting Columbus¡¯ shoulder, Marcus gave him the signal. He nodded and positioned himself by the door, opening it while Marcus stood back and aimed his rifle inside. His lights turned on, it illuminated what was undoubtedly a security station. Checking the corners, it was clear. The two moved inside. Columbus hovered over the computers, trying to boot it up while Marcus checked the weapon cabinet by the door. Its mesh door showed an empty rack, but he was more interested in the shelves underneath. Swinging the door open, it contained metal ammo cans which were unfortunately empty. ¡°Any luck there?¡± Marcus asked, closing the doors shut. The monitors have been turned on, but only showed a blank blue screen. Columbus continued fiddling with the keyboards until he finally gave up and backed off. ¡°No luck here either.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°The system seemed to have locked this station off. Fortunately, that means that there is a central hub which likely is still running everything remotely. Finding that location, we could even take control of the defenses, or at least turn them off.¡± ¡°Seems like a plan.¡± Marcus replied. Looking down, he noticed a stain on the synthetic carpet and he shone the light to find dried blood. Yet, there was no body to which he noticed everything was spotless. Running his fingers on the closest surface, there was not a spec of dust in sight. ¡°This place had been cleaned.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡± Columbus nodded. ¡°No point staying here anymore.¡± ¡°Roger that.¡± Marcus replied, stacking behind Columbus as he led the way to the other door. It was industrially built, recessed into a steel frame and sealed with rubber gaskets. Marcus could see the door would be heavy, just by looking at it as they were the ones installed when trying to keep sounds from leaking into the other room. With a nod. Marcus went to his usual position covering the door while Columbus reached around his shield and towards the crash bar. With a shove, the door opened outward, and both only looked in befuddlement as they saw a crowd of Goblins streaming towards each other. Taken by the opening door, a few in the crowd looked towards them and, with wide eyes, froze just as the door swung back and closed itself.
Quest Updated
The path to nowhere (Updated) Type: Discovery Description: There is a hole guarded with security systems for high levelled players. Where does it go? Requirements: Maximum average party level 20, 2 players, (Failed.) Find out what is in the end of the tunnels. (Completed.) Find a way to get out alive. Rewards: ??
Attention!
You have discovered a Goblin Settlement Reputation Level: Unknown (Approach at your own risk!)
¡°Okay, what the fuck?¡± Marcus said as he read the notifications. ¡°We sure as hell won¡¯t be fighting out of that.¡± ¡°Agreed. Stow that weapon, we¡¯ll have to see how this pans out.¡± Columbus replied, turning off his assault shield and clipping it on his vest. ¡°And I raise you.¡± Marus replied, pulling the magazine out of his rifle and pocketing it. Switching hands, he pointed the rifle angled up. Racking the charging handle, the rifle¡¯s forward eject threw the still unfired cartridge in the air, where Marcus caught it, grinning. ¡°Was that necessary?¡± Columbus asked. Marcus shrugged, pocketing the round and slinging the rifle. ¡°It¡¯s the only way to clear it, and I¡¯d rather not pick it up off the ground if I could help it.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡± Columbus replied, ¡°No sudden movements and aggressive movements.¡± With hands spread, the two exited the doors to a crowd of goblins and their version of security. ¡°Look man, were surrendering. We just want to talk.¡± Marcus said. The surrounding goblins had their weapons pointed at them, but thankfully held their fire. A goblin came from Marcus¡¯ blind side and snatched his slung rifle. Next, they grabbed his hands and twisted them to his back, followed by cold steel on his skin and the ratcheting sound of a pair of handcuffs. In front, a goblin was inspecting his MDR with obvious interest. He looked up at him and said something before swinging the butt of his own rifle to his gut. It didn¡¯t hurt; the strike hit the magazines in his vest, distributing the force of the blow, but Marcus still doubled up and groaned. Acting tough would bring him very little and he looked up at Columbus, who looked at him with curiosity as the same blow failed to double him over, only for another goblin to come in behind and taze him to the ground. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Columbus groaned in pain. His body spasmed as his muscles contracted from the volts of electricity sent directly to his body. He dropped to the ground and the crowding goblins laughed at his plight. ¡°Should have acted like it hurt, man.¡± Marcus said as Columbus looked up at him, passing out. Someone pushed down at his head, leading him to kneel. Hands felt around him as his vest was stripped off his body and his pockets swiped for everything inside. Marcus thanked his foresight to keep most of his valuables in the bank or in Stoner¡¯s shop, just in case. The same was being done to the still out cold Columbus, and they dragged him by his armpits. With a tug on his arm, Marcus stood up to march along. The crowd parting at their approach. Looking around, Marcus realized they were on what looked to be a train platform. Digital panels ripped from the wall long ago left their shadows on the wall, replaced with Goblin art composed of lines that branched and swirled, forming intricate patterns that someone could spend time just looking at. Seeing them now that they were not shooting at him and not being shot at, the average goblin reached about Marcus¡¯ chest. Their clothes were made from patchwork leather or rough spun cloths. There were some who wore better fabric amongst the crowd, and Marcus guessed they were the ones better off. They passed by stalls, separated between each other with thin sheets of plywood. Businesses dealt hung meats and dried mushrooms, hawking their wares only for them to quiet down as they watched the prisoners pass by. There were other stores, Marcus noticed, protected by cages and armed guards whose logo bore the picture of a bullet. They stood alongside gun shops selling crude weapons, with a small workshop visible on the back where more goblins worked to make more weapons. All used hand tools. On the tables lined their products. Slamfire pipe rifles and crude semiautomatics that looked to have been made in a prison than in a shop were the common product. Curiously, there was a kalashnikov in full display, likely the best product the store offered and had an attached tag priced in bullets. It showed that their gunsmiths had still a lot to go. Whatever weapons that had been available to everyone up on the surface didn¡¯t seem to reach this far down below. Reaching the more heavily defended area, they entered a gate separated by thick metal bars welded into the floor and reaching up to the ceiling. This part of the station had been sealed off, and they were led inside, processed and shoved into their individual cages. They were visible to the rest of the station, which Marcus reasoned to serve multiple uses from public humiliation and detainment. The open configuration also made it almost impossible for escape, as any attempt would be visible to anyone bothering to look in their direction. Ducking his head, the cage was small enough that Marcus had to sit and lean forward for him not to split his skull on the bars, making the top of the cage. Looking up, he watched as the goblin who took his rifle disappeared into the crowd and wondered if he could ever get it back. And if it¡¯s the last time he¡¯s going to see his MDR, it was a good thing he didn¡¯t have to pay for the rifle. ¡°Quick in and out. Twenty minutes tops.¡± Marcus muttered as he wiggled himself into a more comfortable position. The cuffs didn¡¯t help for comfort, and he wondered how long he had to keep in this position. He hoped that the developers of this game thought that being a prisoner would not be fun and had plans set up for it. He looked over at Columbus, who was still out cold. The goblins tossed him headfirst into the cage. His face pressed against the bars of his cage while his body bent over backwards in an extremely uncomfortable position. ¡°Ugh. Oh god.¡± He groaned, waking up and contorted his body for his back to press against the bars. ¡°They tazed me.¡± He muttered in bewilderment. ¡°Better than getting shot.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°They didn¡¯t taze you?¡± Columbus asked. ¡°No. Why would they?¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°I was already complying.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Columbus replied, turning his neck to look around. Marcus followed. He could see a crowd of goblins have gathered behind them to have a look at the new prisoners. Some smaller Goblins, likely kids, dared each other and some would take the challenge and come close to poke at them, then run away.
Attention!
This is to remind you that you have currently spent 4 hours in VR.
One tried to go after Marcus and he slammed his head on the bars, scaring the child and causing the crowd to take a frightened step back. The kid slipped on the station¡¯s tiles, then scrambled to its feet to run back to the safety of the crowd. ¡°So what now? I don¡¯t really plan to spend the rest of my session caged up in here and displayed like a zoo exhibit.¡± ¡°Well, seeing as we still haven¡¯t failed the quest, we still have a chance here. We only have to recognize and seize it when it comes.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°We¡¯ll here¡¯s to hoping that they¡¯ll want to talk the next time they come and not take us out.¡± Marcus looked back at the crowd as more goblins joined in to have a look. ¡°Can¡¯t really try an escape with this much attention.¡± ¡°Then be rest assured. That even with the both of us ending up being executed, expect full pay as you fulfilled your part in our agreement to have me reach past the tunnels.¡± Columbus said, sending him a smile. ¡°Stoner already had the payment in hand. He isn''t risking the both of us on screwing each other and so he made precautions for that. Tell him the word, Americas and he¡¯ll give you your payment then.¡± ¡°Best thing I heard all day.¡± Marcus replied, leaning his head back. The two lapsed into silence as they both settled into their own thoughts. The constant droning from the nearby market easily settled into background noise as Marcus thought about his current situation. He wondered what Columbus was getting out of this. Despite looking at the failing end of a quest, he looked calm, expectant even. It was as if; he had something lined up after this quest, while Marcus had only his next windfall of a paycheck to look forward to. It was demeaning. Marcus wondered for the nth time what would have happened in his life if he never contracted that disease. His thoughts always wandered to his version of an American Dream. A plot of land, a good wife, a happy family and spending the rest of his retirement diving into his hobby, shooting rifles, reloading rounds and maybe mentoring some kids after his own would move out and live their lives. He sighed. That dream is gone, replaced by a list of problems to solve. The stress hasn¡¯t started to eat at him at the moment, but he knew it will in the future if he let it continue. He needed to set out on his own. After this job, he promised to himself, he would carve out a little piece of his own and not simply follow behind someone¡¯s shadow. This place, Marcus thought, if it all goes well, would be a good place to start. CH 15: The deal Marcus startled awake as someone kicked his feet. Groggy, he looked around to find himself still in the cage, in the game. He wasn¡¯t aware someone could sleep in VR and wondered if had any soothing effect on the neural stress he receive from playing the game. ¡°Get out! Get out! Now!¡± a goblin ordered, revealing what woke him up. He kicked Marcus once more, hitting his boot, and jabbed with a plastic stick on his face. Prongs stuck out the end, clueing him to its purpose. Not wanting to get tazed and dragged out, Marcus raised his hands and replied, ¡°Alright! Alright! I¡¯m going.¡± he tucked his legs back and duck-walked out of the cage. His hands were still bound on his back, making his movements awkward. Looking to the side, Columbus was gone. ¡°Ah shit!¡± Marcus cursed under his breath. He thought of the multiple possibilities that might have happened to his employer, mundanely ranging from him simply logging out, to being led into the end of the tracks and taking a bullet to the back of the head. Marcus followed the leading goblin while doing his best to take the best of his surroundings. They were leading him deeper into the station. The ever present drone of the market nearby grew muted. They entered a part of the station flanked by multiple rooms. Looking inside the opened doors, Marcus could see living spaces furnished with whatever creature comforts they could find. They looked relatively clean, which was surprising, and either meant that these goblins were much more civilized that he initially thought, or this is where their version of the upper class lived. He was then led into a larger abode where he found Columbus chatting up with an aged goblin. The two sat in piles of pillows atop thick rugs. Columbus looked up at Marcus¡¯ arrival and waved. ¡°Hey Marcus. Glad for you to join us. This is Chief Tiul. He and I just had an enlightening conversation and have just finalized a deal. Chief Tiul, this is Hartdegen, the person I was talking to you about.¡± ¡°Come. Sit. Have tea. I hear you great warrior.¡± The older goblin said in a growly voice and waved him over. Curiously, he wore a turban decorated with lines of beads, jingling at his every head movement. His body was wrapped in intricately designed robes and sashes, which is a sure indication of wealth in every society. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that, but I could say I could handle my own.¡± Marcus replied as his cuffs were taken off. Danger gone, he nodded at the escorting goblin before taking his own seat atop the clear spot rug, next to Columbus. Stacking a few pillows for him to lean on, he took the offered tea with both hands and a bow. It was his first time being tea in such a situation and made sure to be as respectfully as he could. He had watched a video of a Japanese tea ceremony back then and he did his best to imitate it. Taking a sip, it tasted bitter but had a subtle aftertaste. ¡°Thank you. The tea is excellent.¡±
Attention!
Mushroom tea (excellent) Brewed from the goblin¡¯s prized mushroom tea. Grown deep within their most productive tunnels using techniques and processes that are closely guarded. .8x stamina consumption rate (240 mins)
All the while, the Chief observed Marcus. His still sharp eyes betrayed calculation and years of shrewdness, the deep creases in his skin only showed years of wisdom. He was surprised that the game had implemented a quality to a race whose usual characteristics are being a brute and cannon fodder. Looking back at the leader, Marcus wondered how long he had held on his position and how he had achieved it. Somehow content with his observation, the chief nodded ¡°Yes. Tea is good.¡± He chuckled, taking a sip. Feeling the odd one out, Marcus looked for Columbus for backup, to which he only calmly sipped. ¡°We¡¯re waiting for someone.¡± He clarified soon after. ¡°Cool.¡± Marcus replied and leaned on the pillows, getting comfortable. A few minutes passed by in silence, and Marcus had nothing to do but look at the decorations. The walls were adorned with intricately weaved rugs. Behind the Chief, hung a string of enormous canines, likely trophies. There were others too. What Marcus initially thought was a piece of smoothed driftwood, he realized, was a spider¡¯s leg, easily eight feet long by itself. It gave new meaning to the random pieces of decorations in his abode. A large piece of flat bone, an inch thick, looked much like an armored plate. A large horn was actually a tusk. Marcus had finished his tea, impressed by the amount of trophies earned. He was never a big game hunter looking for trophies, but seeing the amount collected, he could see the appeal. The Chief being the host, took the teapot and filled his cup just as another human player entered the abode. He wore a gray overall stained with a mix of rust and old oil. Stains covered his fingers up to his wrists and some smudged even covered his youthful face. He looked to be around sixteen, and if the game¡¯s age rendition was as accurate as the law allowed, then he should be around the same age. ¡°Right. This is the list we need delivered.¡± He said, handing the list to Columbus. He took the list and only gave it a passing glance before handing it over to Marcus. ¡°Hartdegen, this is Bo, the station¡¯s local fixer. Bo, Hartdegen. He beat us here for about two weeks.¡± Columbus said, introducing the two. ¡°Good job.¡± Marcus replied, looking over at the list. It was an extensive list of maintenance items, screws, bolts, nuts, there were some items which Marcus took interest to; magnetic copper wires, class h paper insulators, glass tape, among other things. ¡°Why not just put a new motor in here to make sure?¡± Marcus asked Bo. Marcus should have known from his look alone, you couldn¡¯t get that dirty normally. Bo looked at him, looking annoyed. ¡°Unless you can get me a large 415V motor through the tight corridors and tunnels, then be my guest and bring it here.¡± He replied. Marcus shrugged. ¡°Yeah, that would be a problem, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± lugging a piece of machinery weighing about a ton would be a problem. Reading further, he then started piecing where he fit in all of this. It¡¯s a shopping list, and him being the odd man out meant that he¡¯ll be the one to fill it. He looked over at Columbus, who replied with a curt nod and a sign for them to talk about it later. ¡°You know what?¡± He called to Bo, ¡°How about you and I visit your shop, let our leaders have their time.¡± He said, then at Columbus. ¡°You okay with that?¡± ¡°Yeah, go ahead.¡± Columbus said, followed with an approving nod from the chief. ¡°Okay then. Lets review the list to make sure we miss nothing.¡± Bo said, leading the way out. Marcus followed the guy, him being the only other human in a sea of shorter goblins made it easy to find him amongst the crowd. That, along with their presence, having the same effect as a shark swimming in the middle of a school of fishes, everyone just parted before Marcus, making it easier to sidle up to the younger player. ¡°You know, when I play this game. Doing maintenance would be the last thing I¡¯d think of trying.¡± Marcus said, trying to break the ice between them. ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m playing the game for a different reason.¡± Bo replied. ¡°Thats so? What¡¯s yours then?¡± ¡°I¡¯m here to learn. To get a modicum of experience that cannot be given to me by education modules. You go through them enough and everything gets stale, predictable. Everything you need is given to you, and all you need is to follow the steps. Here, I get to experience what a station could experience in real life, lack of materials, unexpected breakage, insufficient power. I find all the challenges fun and educational.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Marcus nodded. He did his bit of research in getting back to the industry, only to be beaten down by the amount of study and time spent on training for him to get enough certificates and qualifications for an engineering job. For a thirty-year-old man to spend three more years of remedial study while being on government social program, it was just not viable. He needed something fast. Of course, he could try looking for jobs without those certificates, but it would force him to enter a shady industry. Of which, Marcus would rather avoid if necessary and will only consider in the most dire consequences. It was surprising to find someone so young with such an outlook. In a game where it claims to mimic almost everything in reality, it was an inevitability for it to attract people like Bo. Hell. Marcus smiled. Even back then, MMO guild leaders could list it in their CVs, reasoning that it is a relevant experience in dealing with people. The sound leaking from the machines ahead warned Marcus long before they arrived at the facilities. Entering, the sound of motors running noisily assaulted his ears and is in dire need of maintenance. Looking around, Marcus could see why. There aren¡¯t other machines available to cycle around. Everything was either running or down. Marcus approached one of the motors. It ran the nearby Air handling unit which was experiencing too much vibrations. He pressed his hand over the casing and found it running hot, likely due to all the workload put into it. With no other machines to shift the load, Marcus can¡¯t really blame Bo. With that many people breathing in such a tight space, the machine cutting off would only lead to tragedy. Marcus followed Bo to another room, there he found his workshop. Closing the door, the noise abated into a dull droning sound, noticeable but not distracting. On the bench lay an opened motor. Copper wires were pulled out of the rotor windings and was in the middle of being rewound. ¡°This all you?¡± Marcus asked the kid. He nodded. ¡°I get a few helpers once in a while, but yeah. You can say this is all me.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯d say you did a pretty good job. You¡¯re keeping this place together even if this is a three-man operation minimum. But you really need to get some help.¡± ¡°You going to give it to me? You think I don¡¯t know that?¡± He said, suddenly giving him lip. ¡°No. You go get it yourself. I¡¯m just telling you what you can do.¡± Marcus snapped back. ¡°It¡¯s up to you how you¡¯re going to go about it, but as you are now, you¡¯re thinking too small. You¡¯re busying yourself in minor matters when you should rope a few of those goblins outside to wind those coils for you. Because anyone can do it with just the right amount of instructions. They don¡¯t need to know the theory behind the machine to make one and you¡¯re wasting all your time and effort to thinking that you should.¡± The kid looked at him with defiance, but soon softened as he weighed the advice. ¡°Yeah, Whatever.¡± ¡°Look kid, it might seem to you that I¡¯m stepping into your little kingdom, but its not. I¡¯m just an older guy giving you advice to stop focusing on the little things and start looking at the big picture.¡± "Yeah? Then what¡¯s that?¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not telling you. But right now, I know you don¡¯t have much to do. So how about you help me make us some money instead?¡±
The station¡¯s armory, if it could even be called that, reminded Marcus more of a plumbing supply shop by just the sheer amount of pipe rifles in storage. Marcus looked at his gear laid out on the table with a frown. Not everything came back as they should be. Magazines filled to the brim were missing rounds just by the weight. His grenades were gone, along with a small chunk of both his loose and packed ammo. Marcus recognized the ones who seized his gear and gritted his teeth. The fact that they had the gall to be still present and standing around when he checked his equipment and find things missing is enough to piss him off. He sighed. Well, at least the gun is still intact along with his shields, Marcus thought as he picked up the MDRX. He checked the light and aimed down the sights. He hoped those grubby hands didn¡¯t manage to mess with the zeroing, as it could cause trouble for him. Still, it would be prudent to confirm his zero before he would set out, along with taking a count of how much he had left. ¡°Nice gear.¡± Bo said, watching as Marcus fitted his vest. ¡°At first, I didn¡¯t believe the two of you getting here through the dangerous tunnels, but seeing this. It¡¯s convincing me otherwise.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have to convince you, kid. I¡¯m already here.¡± Marcus replied, looking at the armed goblins holding their weapons low, as if daring him to make a move. He wanted to, of course, just for the principle of no one gets to steal from his face and get away with it, but his situation dictate that he had no other choice but to roll with it. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here. I don¡¯t like the air.¡± ¡°I get what you mean.¡± Bo replied, following his gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t like those bullies either.¡± The two left the armory and walked into the bustling market. The two moved through the crowd unimpeded as everyone else kept a distance away from them. Moving through, Marcus spotted Columbus ahead. He and the chief were deep in conversation. Marcus noticed the Chief¡¯s bodyguard carrying Columbus¡¯ Mossberg along with a bandolier. It was filled with high brass buckshot and worn so it crossed his chest. Columbus looked up, noticing them, and waved at the two of them over. The two groups met in the middle of the market. Marcus greeted the old goblin with a respectful nod. Columbus excused himself from their conversation with the chief and turned to Marcus. ¡°Ah, I see you got your gear back.¡± ¡°Not all of it.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Some of it seemed to have fallen off when its being transported.¡± ¡°Unluckily.¡± Columbus nodded. Whether he got the implied message, he didn¡¯t show it. ¡°I already have the quest accepted since I¡¯ll be the one footing the bill. Here. I assume your same rate still applies?¡±
Quest offer!
Supply Run Type: Owner: Columbus The Songbird Station needs supplies, and the Chief had given Columbus and, in extension, you, the privilege of being the station¡¯s first supplier. Prove your ability by coming through with the orders. Requirements: Fill the required order and deliver it within the assigned time. (94:46:05s) Accept? [Y/N]
Marcus chose accept and nodded. His previous contract had been for two days of work until the completion of the quest, worth two hundred twenty thousand game credits. An extension after the initial two days would be 20 thousand game credits per hour. Marcus had based his rate on the current minimum wage. But given that their sessions would extent up to 16 hours per day, his hourly rate was even worth less. Still, it wasn¡¯t like he had been spoilt for choice, and he can¡¯t just change his current rate. Like it or not, he still needed to keep his amicable connection with him. ¡°I¡¯ll get to it.¡± ¡°Good. I¡¯ll leave you to it then. As for me, I¡¯ll stay here. I hope you¡¯ll be able to handle it on your own?¡± He asked. ¡®You stay and pow around with your new best friend while I break my ass on the surface?¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll manage.¡± He replied. It would be best since it would allow him to do his planned hustle with little supervision as long as he delivered his part, that is. Columbus nodded and left with the chief, continuing their previous conversation about their history, their art and whatever information he could extract from him. Marcus had to give it to the guy. He knows how to push and prod at a person. For the chief, it seemed like it was his culture. For Marcus, it was money. ¡°You¡¯re just going to let him do that to you?¡± Bo asked as he watched the group leave. ¡°He¡¯s paying me.¡± Marcus replied, following his gaze. ¡°Come on. Get me introduced to this place¡¯s gunsmith.¡± Unlike the grumpy Stoner leaning over his counter, the owner of the station¡¯s gun store was far more affable. Once Bo had Marcus introduced as someone who could get him what he need, along with a proof of the Chief¡¯s explicit permission to do so, the goblin started spouting out lists of tools, equipment, and materials. ¡°Primers. Shotgun primers, many. Also springs, good springs. Springs for trigger.¡± He said, following along with many more items that Marcus simply gave up and written ¡®gun shit¡¯. The gunsmith was willing to pay for the materials at their version of a premium price in bullets. ¡°Doesn¡¯t even felt strange to you why they use bullets as currency?¡± Bo asked. ¡°Relatively light, reliable, hard to fake, and actually useful compared to the usual gold. If all else goes to shit, you can use it to save your life, or someone else¡¯s.¡± Marcus replied, remembering. ¡°One bullet, one life. Just enough to take it.¡± ¡°Wow. I wouldn¡¯t think you¡¯re a philosophical person.¡± ¡°Theyre not my words. I¡¯m just repeating it.¡± Marcus replied, pointing over to one of the shotguns on display. The Gunsmith handed it over and Marcus inspected it.
Attention!
Makeshift Shotgun A double-barrelled shotgun made from scratch by goblin Gunsmiths. It can deal enormous damage close range by firing both barrels at once, that is, if it doesn¡¯t blow up on you. Caliber: 12 Gauge Familiarity: 0
It was a double-barrelled design. The jury-rigged and slapdash implementation reminded Marcus of the duplet. Breaking it open with a latch on top, it lacked an extractor, and both hammers had to be manually cocked with individual triggers. It fires by breaking the simple sear trigger. Once broken, the hammer would swing forward, pulled by a linear spring, and hit the exposed firing pin. It was an extremely crude design, made with even crude materials. Simple plate steel filed into shape and fitted into place with bolts, screws and bad welds. Marcus wouldn¡¯t be paid to shoot the thing, but given that it¡¯s being sold, it had to be good enough for these people. He gave the gun back and turned to Bo. ¡°Look, how about I give you some ideas for a design? Make it a mental exercise. If you could make it work, I¡¯m sure it will be popular here as it would be a lot better than their current guns and could be made using available materials. You interested?¡± Bo¡¯s face lit up. ¡°I get to design a gun? Of course!¡± CH 16: The Surface Marcus crawled down the dark and claustrophobic tunnels, built primarily for the Goblin¡¯s small size. What a nightmare it would be to attack this place against a determined defense and understood how hard it would have been for the tunnel rats clearing out tunnel complexes back in the Vietnam war. He never did like caving. For every step Marcus took, the tunnel¡¯s soft walls eroded every time his gear scraped along it and hoped that it had little chance of triggering a cave in. Soon, the tunnel opened up ahead, and Marcus dropped into a dark basement. Breaking a glowstick, it was empty, with the single metal door leading into the room. The frame was warped; the walls cracked, and the door had been pried open enough to admit one person at at time. Looking at his goblin escorts, Marcus waved over to the door waited while the rest scouted the entrance out. A minute later, the goblin came back and signaled an all clear. Marcus had spent the rest of yesterday practicing with these escorts on their mode of communication. Marcus could understand their broken way of speaking, but hand gestures are much safer and quicker, even if it required light. Squeezing out of the gap, Marcus followed the stairs leading up to find an abandoned clothing store. The merchandise had long been taken by looters, leaving only the empty racks and broken glass windows. Glass scattered along the floor reflected the pale moonlight peeking over the buildings, showing the shadows of a dead city. Creeping closer outside and peeking out, Marcus could see more of the city. Buildings bore with them stains of fire long extinguished. The hulks of long rusting cars littered the streets and rubble from collapsed buildings blocked the streets at intervals. Raising Columbus¡¯ thermal scope to his eyes, it only confirmed his initial assumption. Shades of detailed grays filled his vision to distances the eye could see. Seeing it clear, and their job done, Marcus waved for his escorts to go back. Alone, Marcus climbed the building. Creeping slowly forwards and straining his ears, aided by his electronic headset. The device had the effect of amplifying low level sounds while dampening loud and ambient noise, making it easier to hear anything sneaking up ahead or around him. Once in a while, a roar would echo throughout the city, followed quickly by the faint electronic zap of an energy weapon¡¯s discharge. For the first few times it happened, Marcus would tense up and stand still, listening in for more sounds of combat. Soon, Marcus grew used to the sounds of the city as he steadily moved up the building. Sure, he might not be in any immediate danger, but a single player laying in ambush could easily take him out, even with his shields. Reaching the top of the building, Marcus scouted out his immediate location. The broken ship¡¯s massive silhouette dominated the city¡¯s skyline to the south, and Marcus judged it to be a couple of miles away from his location. The scent of salt came with the breeze from the west and Marcus looked over in the direction to see the inland sea reaching to the horizon. The pale moonlight shone from a clear night sky bathed the city in shades of gray. Pinpricks of light dotted along the skyline, likely brought about by players moving about in the dark or just making camp. Raising the thermal to his eye, it gave him another view. Marcus could see warm spots scattered in the distance. Four legged nimble creatures climbed along the sides of buildings and ran along rooftops. They would pause and sniff at the air, followed by even more of their own kind, hunting. There were other creatures, too, standing on their hind legs, their heads swiveling and scanning the horizon. It reminded Marcus of gophers, but much larger and a face full of sharp teeth. Checking his map, Marcus found his exact location. His was just a static map and so he had to find his position by checking the shapes of the nearby buildings and simply figuring it out. He was three kilometers north of the ship by the Map¡¯s graduations and is smack in the middle of downtown. He was bordering the PVP grounds further to the north, a place where the ship¡¯s influence ended and where the lawlessness begins. Still, players can still kill other players in the PVE zone, only there would be punishments incurred within the ship. Bounties can be placed on the heads of these player killers and can be outrightly shot on sight, thus allowing the bandit play style. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Normally, it would have taken Marcus in a quick stroll an hour, maximum, to cover the distance. But in the game, he would have to take a lot more time, considering that he would have to take care not to get killed along the way. Sure, he could have just taken himself out in the station and respawn back at the ship, but he isn¡¯t willing to pay for the lost level and six-hour game time penalty cost required for such a move. Plotting his course, Marcus came down to the streets and made for the direction of the ship. Soon, the light of the moon brightened as dawn fast approached. Marcus chose this time as he surmised this is when the nocturnal creatures of the city would start moving towards their dens to rest for the day and also the time where players are just preparing to head out, allowing Marcus an easier time to move about in the city. Checking his surroundings with his thermal scope, and moving quickly between buildings, Marcus was making good progress. He covered half a mile¡¯s distance closer to the ship in an hour when he heard the scraping of claws against concrete. Quickly, Marcus took cover inside the nearby building. It used to be an ice cream shop, judging from the signs out front and the menu posted inside. Marcus backed into the shadows, rifle at the ready, as he saw a pack of shadows dart past the windows. They were moving too fast that Marcus didn¡¯t have time to make out individual features and identify them. Marcus waited, making sure that the coast was clear. More skittering sounds came from around the corner, forcing Marcus to back further into the building and go up to the second floor parlor. It allowed him the height advantage along with being out of sight of anything looking in standing on the street. As he stepped on the landing, he made it just in time as a clatter sounded outside. Marcus crept towards the windows and looked over to see a group moving south and cursed as they were in a direct course towards his spot. There were five of them, walking in the middle of the street, formed in a sort of dotted diamond formation. Each point of the diamond facing their sectors while the center held the biggest gun in the group. Hugging his rifle close, he flicked the selector off safety and weighed whether it would just be better to take them out of let them pass. From the thermals, their gear was set up for PVE. They held the bulky energy weapons, wore a lack of interceptor plates and slung bulging backpacks. Their formation also resembled more of a medieval formation, designed to protect from attacks coming from all sides rather than the more modern one, which focused on minimal exposure while maximizing available firepower. Being outnumbered, his decision was easy. Marcus backed away from the window and crept to a corner, facing the only stairs leading up to his floor. The footsteps grew closer. Marcus felt his heart race as the steps came almost from under him and eased off as the steps faded. Waiting a minute, Marcus was about to peek out of the window to see their position when he once again heard skittering claws against concrete. ¡°Contact north!¡± Came the distant shout, followed by the zaps of energy rifles. A shower of red and green lasers traced past the window, making a rather pretty light show. The laser lights lit up the street, casting chaotic flickering shadows against the building walls. Marcus waited, content for the group to take care of the mobs, but the fighting grew longer. What Marcus initially thought was a minute long battle turned into five, then ten. It didn¡¯t seem to be going well for the players. There were audibly fewer people shooting too, and Marcus peeked out to confirm it. One player was down, another player was busy tending to his wounds. The three remaining surrounded their wounded comrades in a defensive triangle and were steadily being pushed further back into each other. Marcus could see why. The creatures used a two pronged attack comprising a creature running up the walls, exposing themselves to be shot while another would run up from the ground to hit the players on the ground. It was simple and effective as they were able to resist an initial burst from the laser fire, allowing them precious seconds to disengage and retreat. The creatures repeated the same attack over and over. The players soon developed their own cadence to defend their position and dug in. Despite the players being outnumbered four to one, both sides fell into a stalemate a minute later. Marcus would have been fine enough just walking away from the fight and let the group deal with them and tie them down. But that notion relied on the group to stand their ground and keep the monsters¡¯ attention and keep them there. But there were too many factors which could change. The players can run out of ammunition, or the monsters may just call in reinforcements and overwhelm them. The monsters may retreat towards Marcus¡¯ direction, forcing to fight them on his own among many others. ¡°Fuck.¡± Marcus muttered. He didn¡¯t want to make contact with other players outside the ship, but his situation practically dictated it. He needed more eyes to cover his back and more guns on line in case of an attack. Leaning out the window enough to have a clear angle of the ensuing fight, he centered his sights on one of the climbers a hundred yards away. He reasoned that even if he missed something vital and failed to kill the creature, the bullet would make it fall and gravity will do the rest. ¡°They better owe me after this.¡± CH 17: Players
Warning!
Critical damage received! Pain effect Bleeding effect Incapacitated!
¡°This is not fun.¡± Rex muttered, but only came out as a cough as he choked on his blood. He had been the first to fall, taken down by a Groll that attacked him from his blind spot, something that should have been prevented by of the other guys in the group. Now, he lay on the cold concrete looking up at the brightening dawn as Anna, the team¡¯s medic, hovered over him and tended to his wounds.
Warning!
-5 health
Rex was bleeding out. His health bar ticked ever closer to zero. He looked to the side to his his broken rifle laying next to him. The over levelled Groll had gotten a good swipe at him before he could dodge. The strike had cut through his shields. A second swipe cut a rent across the rifle¡¯s receiver he used to defend himself. The blow slapped the rifle away from his grasp for a final overhand swipe to take him down, almost disemboweling him as its claws cut his chest and down to his stomach. It was about to finish him off, only for it to be driven away by his friend, Anna, with a flurry of energy fire. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll be fine.¡± Anna said as she finished packing his wounds with a compression bandage and wrapped his torso.
Attention!
Heavy bleeding abated Fresh wound status
It was going too slow. Rex should have bought one of the stims sold in the stores, if only for himself. Unfortunately, their earnings from hunting and questing weren¡¯t able to afford him the extremely useful medical consumable and help him get back on the fight. Instead, he could only think about what happened for them to be in the situation in the first place. ¡°Hey Anna, remember what I said about just doing what were here to do?¡± he said, remembering his protests a few hours ago for not risking their run by taking on more than they could handle. He, of course, was overruled by Rider, their party leader, along with the support of his two other friends. ¡°I think its too late to talk about it now.¡± Anna replied, ¡°Let¡¯s just focus on now, okay?¡±
Attention!
You are no longer incapacitated
Rex sighed. She¡¯s right. ¡°Give me your rifle. And prop me up so I could shoot.¡± He said, gesturing to the energy rifle slung on her shoulder. Anna handed him the rifle, and he shouldered it, aiming at one of the many Grolls scaling the side of the buildings. Due to your injuries, your abilities are reduced
Attention!
Due to your injuries, your abilities are reduced Aim time 2.5x Accuracy .5x
Rex ignored the message and held his aim as he tracked the monster¡¯s movements with his sights. ¡®The cone of probability¡¯, a term which he dubbed by himself slowly shrunk for every second. It was the game¡¯s way of assisting the player¡¯s aim. He was starting to hate the thing, as it seems to hinder him more than help. The cone shrunk enough for him to have a decent chance of hitting and fired. The laser lanced through the air and impacted the Groll. It flinched, missing a purchase as it reached for a handhold and fell to the ground, hitting the concrete with a satisfying crunch. Motivated, he aimed at another, but before he could fire; he watched as his target flinch, a puff of blood sprayed on the concrete face it was climbing, and too fell to the ground. There was no laser fire, and he looked at the others in his group to find them already busy fending off the encirclement. Another fell from the buildings, followed quickly by a muffled shot in the distance. Rex finally realized what was going on. He tried to yell for the others but only came out as another bloody cough.. ¡°Player!¡± Rider, their party leader, yelled out in panic. Frantically looking around, he shifted his fire away from the mobs surrounding them and fired towards the general direction of the player instead. ¡°Player!¡± Rider yelled again, scanning north as another a burst muffled shots echoed from that direction, dropping a charging Groll on the ground and caused it to tumble end over end, skidding to a stop feet in front of them and bleeding from multiple wounds where the bullets peppered it. Looking at the buildings, Rex could not pinpoint the exact location of the shooter and hoped that the next shot he takes towards them would be a miss. ¡°Get out of the street!¡± Rex yelled, finally getting clearing his throat and pushed Anna away. The monsters were scrambling to get away too after seeing three of them fall in short of a minute. Rider, Raze and Cotton ran past him, picking up his bag as they went past to getting to the nearby cover. ¡°If we move you too far, Rex, we risk opening your wounds.¡± Anna replied, still tending to his wounds. She finished clipping a bandage and slapped him on the shoulder. ¡°If I¡¯m slowing you down, just leave me.¡± Rex said, getting to his feet and groaned in an effort to stave past the simulated pain. ¡°Popping smoke.¡± Cotton said, throwing the canister out where it landed ahead of the two. The grenade blew out a plume of smoke, quickly concealing them as they followed along with the others. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Rex, aided by Anna, shambled past the door and into cover. It was an abandoned restaurant with the chairs and tables still left behind. Anna helped Rex get into an empty chair and continued treating him. He looked for the other three in his group and found them gathered amongst themselves as they discussed in hushed tones, instead of watching out for the other player. Noticing Rex¡¯s gaze on them, the three broke off. Cotton and Raze went towards the windows to look out for danger while Rider approached them. ¡°I don¡¯t have any other way to say this Rex, but we have to keep moving.¡± Rider said in a regretful tone. ¡®Bullshit.¡¯ Rex wanted to reply, but kept his mouth shut. They were outnumbered and they could easily turn on one another. It was their quest with Rex and Anna joining in after, and they could easily be kicked out of the group if they even give them the slightest reason. They hold all the power and Rex could do nothing but watch the man in front of him take advantage of it. ¡°Okay.¡± He replied. ¡°Sorry. We can¡¯t have you slowing us down, Rex.¡± Cotton added from the other side of the room. ¡°We¡¯ll still share the rewards, don¡¯t worry.¡± Raze added his bit. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving him.¡± Anna replied, not bothering to look up as she finished bandaging Rex.
Attention!
All bleeding abated Fresh wound status Warning, low health
¡°No, I agree. You should go with them.¡± Rex said, turning to Anna and hoping for her to look up and get the hint, but she didn¡¯t. She continued looking down at his wounds and applied antibiotics to aid in his regeneration. ¡°I said, I¡¯m not leaving him.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. We have to go now.¡± Rider replied, giving only the token resistance. ¡°I¡¯m not changing my mind.¡± ¡°I understand. Then, we will go ahead. Try to get away and we¡¯ll meet up on that diner we rested on the way out here.¡± ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± Anna replied. Rider nodded and signalled for the other two. They nodded back and peeled back from their position to meet up in the center of the room and went for the backdoor towards the kitchen. They gave Rex a nod as they passed by and disappeared out of sight. ¡°You know there¡¯s nothing stopping them from betraying us, right?¡± Rex said as Anna finished up and sat on one of the nearby seats.
Attention!
+1 health
¡°I know.¡± Anna replied. Sinking to her seat ¡°If they¡¯re going to betray us, then its better for them to do it now than later right?¡± ¡°I guess that makes sense. If that player comes and PK us, then it won¡¯t be a skin off their back since they already had the quest items with them. All they need is to turn it in.¡± ¡°He won¡¯t PK us.¡± Anna replied, turning a pair of scissors on his finger and playing with it. ¡°I had a good look at the guy when you were getting up and the rest were running to cover. He was looking at us out one of the windows and had a clear shot on all of us, but didn¡¯t take the shot. Instead, he was flicking his light on and off to show us his position.¡± ¡°Instead, he just shot at the Grolls attacking us.¡± Rex replied. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have been more assertive for us to not be in this situation.¡± ¡°Why are you sorry?¡± Anna asked. ¡°It would have been boring if we just keep farming mobs and turning them in for bounties. I think we¡¯ve done enough of that.¡± ¡°So now what? We¡¯ve only got one energy rifle between us and a whole two miles from the nearest safe zone.¡± ¡°We wait you dummy.¡±
Attention!
You are no longer suffering from low health
¡°Maybe he¡¯s not coming.¡± Rex said as he looked at his health. They have been waiting for about an hour where the only notable event to happen was for a low levelled critter to run into the wrong restaurant. By that time, the sun had risen and everything brighter. Soon, more players and scavengers would start flooding in to the location, making it much more difficult to move through the city safely. ¡°Lets wait for a bit.¡± Anna replied, tossing a spent fusion cell up and catching it. ¡°You could get incapacitated again just by a mob looking at you the wrong way.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m here.¡± A voice came from the kitchen, startling both of them. ¡°No sudden movements, please. And I¡¯d appreciate if you lower that gun.¡± Rex followed the commands and laid the rifle on the table in front of him. He looked to the side for Anna, already looking at the source of the voice and he turned behind him to see another man pointing a rifle at him. ¡°See, I told you.¡± Anna said in a smug voice. ¡°What took you so long?¡± The man ignored the question and peeked out of the restaurant¡¯s kitchen and scanned the area and clear the corners. Keeping to the dark interior, Rex could only see his silhouette against the darkness behind him and could only watch as he cleared the rest of the room. His demeanor was much more intense than what he had seen in other players and seemed to know what he was doing. Content, the man turned his attention back to them. ¡°Where¡¯s the rest?¡± ¡°They left.¡± Anna answered, ¡°They left because Rex here is going to slow them down and I stayed because I had to keep him from dying.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Rex added, ¡°what she said.¡± ¡°You guys friendly, then?¡± He asked, ¡°Because if you don¡¯t want me here, I could just leave.¡± Surprised by the question, Rex could only reply, ¡°No, you¡¯re fine. You did help us after all.¡± The man grunted, ¡°Alright.¡± He said and stepped forward into the light. The man wore a simple gray shirt underneath a universal vest, and a pair of khaki pants. He had a backpack strapped tight and in his arms was a rifle Rex was not familiar with. It was fitted with sights, a light and a suppressor. Despite that, his vest bulged with multiple magazines and grenades which made him look to be preparing for a battle. He sent Rex and Anna one more glance and sighed, taking a seat and dragging to sit against the wall. ¡°You guys need anything? Maybe some meds?¡± He asked. Rex and Anna looked at each other. ¡°I think were good. Were just waiting for me to heal up enough that we could move again.¡± ¡°Will this help?¡± the man said, tossing him a stim.
Item Information:
TGC-1 Regeneration Coctail Regeneration stimulant utilizing a coctail of advanced nanobots to boost regeneration. Removes Pain +3 Health/3 Seconds (300s) Debuffs: Tremor (60 minutes) X.7 Health (180 minutes) X.7 Endurance -70 Energy -70 Hydration
¡°It will. Thanks.¡± Rex replied, handing the stim towards Anna. She took the stim and jabbed it at his shoulder, her skills allowing the medicine to have a more potent effect than Rex administering it himself. ¡°Why are you helping us?¡± Rex asked. Wondering about the man¡¯s generosity. Something that was treasured and kept between players was just handed off so nonchalantly. ¡°Yeah,¡± Anna added, ¡°You could have just left us there since we¡¯d have been overrun without your help.¡± The man only shrugged. ¡°You guy are going my way. I thought it¡¯d be better to move through the city in numbers.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t have anyone else with you?¡± The man only shrugged, fishing a cigarette and lighting it. ¡°Not really.¡± ¡°You want to team up?¡± Anna offered, ¡°We know the area and could point out where the player hotspots are.¡± ¡°That works.¡± The man replied, ¡°Name¡¯s Hartdegen, yours?¡± ¡°Rex. Assaulter.¡± ¡°Anna. Medic.¡± CH 18: The Team
Monster Information:
Groll Lvl 10 An apex predator local to the planet Terminus. Its thick armor enhances its survivability against the planet¡¯s local fauna. Aggressive and tough, attempts have been made to genetically engineer the creatures as a weapon but had been reportedly failed.
Marcus read the notification and looked at the first Groll dragged into the restaurant. Its inch thick scales explained the reason why Rex and Anna¡¯s team had a hard time dealing with a pack of them. Stepping closer, he set his foot next to its paw, measuring almost as long and wide as his boot. The creature was massive, easily past three hundred pounds, and he thanked his lucky stars that his round had enough penetration to beat its scaly armor. Looking at the wounds, the projectiles punched small holes in the Groll¡¯s body and Marcus turned it around to inspect the other side. The rounds failed to punch through. Marcus wondered how much the armor slowed down the bullet and if he would need a bigger gun in case he runs into a bigger pack. Marcus looked out the window and surveyed the carnage. Blood and bodies stained the concrete and still figures lay on the street. Anna and Rex were outside. Their matching gray digital camo pattern made them harder to make out against the grays of concrete. Rex was stepping towards the nearest dead beast to drag it back into the establishment when Marcus noticed something. There were three bodies on the ground. Quickly, Marcus reached for his radio and pressed the transmit button. Synching radios was the first thing the three did the moment they agreed to travel together, and Marcus made sure to wipe their presets of other frequencies saved on their radios. ¡°Both of you hold.¡± He said. ¡°What? Why?¡± Rex replied through the radio and turned around to look back at him inside the restaurant. That was bad. Rex turning in his direction would have to be corrected if they are to continue travelling together. ¡°I shot three Grolls, there are four bodies.¡± That caused the two to look around and realize what it meant. Rex tried to step back, but a wave from Anna caused him to stop. ¡°I don¡¯t remember where the bodies fell.¡± Anna replied. ¡°So do I.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to.¡± Marcus replied, pulling out his thermal scope and looked along the street. He panned the device along the road and found the one laying in wait. The body nearest Rex was much hotter compared to the already cooling bodies of its dead pack mates. Marcus even caught the creature¡¯s warm breath against the cold morning air. ¡°I got him.¡± He said and just caught another thermal signature in one of the buildings. ¡°Alright. I also saw one in one of the buildings to your left. Get ready to run my way in once I pop the one on the ground. Copy?¡± ¡°I got it.¡± Anna replied. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Standby. Run on the signal.¡± Marcus said as grabbed his rifle and he secured his thermals. The device had done him so well in the short time he had run with it, he wondered if he could even want to part with such a useful gadget. ¡®Would be a shame if I just happen to lose it,¡¯ he smirked as he lined his sights on the distant Groll¡¯s head. Marcus judged the creature around fifty yards away, and so aimed low, going for a headshot. From his experience, headshots are never used on game, as it would get them into a lot of trouble. But for pests like boars and coyotes, everything goes. He loved going out at night and shooting the pests. Save for his closest circle, he wouldn¡¯t admit that he loved the puff of dust and fur whenever he lands a clean shot. Was it sadistic? No. It was quick and painless, better than using poison, traps, or explosives. The animals never knew what hit them. Once the hunt ends, Marcus and his friends would take the carcass, if they are hunting boar, to the butcher for personal consumption or to be donated to the nearest homeless shelter. As for the coyotes, they would leave corpses for other coyotes, feeding them for some time and preventing them from coming after livestock. Now, he was hunting much more dangerous animals, not for their meat or the dangers they bring, but for their loot. Marcus thought, as he slowly breathed out and gently pulled the trigger. The trigger broke, and Marcus felt the rifle buck against his shoulder. The rifled barked its muffled report as he watched the bullet trace a short line towards its target, hitting it in its lower jaw and jerking its head up like it was punched as the round failed to penetrate its skull. A split second of silence passed, as if everyone held their breath, and everything started moving. Anna and Rex sprinted towards him. The Groll he spotted within the buildings sprinted out to the street just as another leapt out of a second-story window. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The two mobs sprinted at the two retreating players. Marcus loosed another relaxing breath as he shifted his aim and started firing. Trading speed for accuracy, Marcus sent a flurry of fire towards the closest. It was going for Rex, likely his bloodied and weakened state made him the juicier target compared to Anna. One fell, skidding to the ground. Marcus shifted his aim for the other one and sent another flurry of fire as the two reached the safety of the restaurant. An unnatural howl echoed through the buildings and more Grolls emerged from the buildings. Marcus immediately dropped his magazine and reached for another one, already thinking of his line of retreat through the kitchen backdoor, when he noticed they didn¡¯t seem to be that much interested in them anymore. Figures darted into the street, but all headed westward and away from them. ¡°Okay, what the fuck?¡± Marcus asked as he lowered the gun. ¡°If I¡¯m a betting man, I¡¯d put money on you and your group pissing them off somehow.¡± He looked over at the two quizzically, to which Anna replied. ¡°Our group attacked what looked to be a small nest of them. I, being the medic, stood back ways with Rex while the rest went to check. But they came back and claimed that it was abandoned. Now, it seems that they lied about that too.¡± ¡°What else did they lie about?¡± Marcus asked, curious. ¡°They said that they¡¯ll meet us at one of our rally points, but its unlikely that they¡¯ll be there now that they kicked us out of their group. Reasoning that we¡¯re the one that abandoned them. Here, you can see it for yourself.¡±
Attention!
You have been removed from the group: Night Hunters. You are no longer eligible to quest rewards turned in by the group. Reason: Abandoning the team: You have spent a total of 60 minutes away from the group leader and is reported for abandonment.
¡°That proves it that all they¡¯re all a bunch of assholes.¡± Anna said with a face of annoyance. If she was acting, then it was a convincing performance. Marcus looked to Rex, who also bore the pissed off face but more subdued. Marcus sighed, with no way to confirm their claims. All he could do is to accept it. The trio waited until they confirmed the coast was clear. Rex and Anna went back to dragging the corpses into the restaurant for looting while Marcus kept to his role as the watch. Once all the beasts were taken into the restaurant, the two went on to loot them. Marcus watched as an interface popped out and a timer emerged. Marcus nodded. The mechanic bars from a player running up to a freshly killed copse, looting, then scooting. He could also see a situation where a firefight ignites between two parties fighting it for the loot in the middle. Still, it was the convenient but more wasteful way of looting. The more efficient way was to take a knife and manually take apart the monster itself, tools if you¡¯re talking about mechanical objects, and simply checking the pockets and bags if looting humanoids. The downside is that it requires preparations depending on the mob being taken apart and the loot you¡¯re looking to take. Meat would need a clean area as the meat placed on an unsterile surface would give the meat a dirty effect that significantly reduces its value and made it unlikely to be worth carrying. The timer ticked down, and the body disappeared. A fresh pair of claws and a bloody part packed in shrink-wrapped plastic took its place. Rex looked at the haul. ¡°So, how do we split the loot?¡± he asked, looking at Marcus. ¡°Make it simple, take all we have and split it three way once we get to the ship.¡± ¡°That works.¡± The three finished looting their kills and came up with a significant haul. The Grolls being higher leveled had them yield better materials, meats and organs that could be sold on the ship for a respectable profit. Unfortunately, Marcus calculated the total value to barely break even with the cost of bullets Marcus spent on taking them out. Once again, he was lucky it wasn¡¯t his money being burned in finishing the quest. Their packs filled, they left the restaurant with Marcus on the rear. It allowed Marcus the best view of their teams¡¯s situation and also gave the least risk of getting shot in the back. The arrangement was fine with the other two. Anna took the middle while Rex took their only energy rifle and took the lead. He cleared the way as they made their way through the tight and cluttered alleyways between the buildings. Marcus had already cleared the path in his first approach, where he entered through the building¡¯s kitchen and blindsided the two, but it wouldn¡¯t hurt them to clear it once more. It also allowed him to observe his two new teammates. They were making good time. Their pace was quicker compared when Marcus got out of the tunnels, all because of their familiarity with the location and what seemed to follow an already pre-planned route. Looked ahead, his suspicions were confirmed as he found a trail forming. ¡°Let¡¯s go this way.¡± Marcus replied, the route may lead them back to the ship the fastest but it someone could easily lay in ambush, waiting for someone to use the trail. The two looked at each other at his suggestion, but the two knew it was only a veiled order. Exchanging nods, Anna answered for the two, ¡°That way takes us closer to a Malif nest but its nothing we can¡¯t handle.¡± ¡°How about players?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°Can¡¯t say that there won¡¯t be any, but its unlikely. We might run into some scavs though.¡± Scavengers. Marcus had spent some time and money the past night surfing through the forums looking for any information and found that in addition to bandits, scavs are hostile NPCs that are barely tolerated by all factions and are killed on sight by other players. There was no penalty for killing them as they are hostile and is known to loot the bodies of downed players and taking their gear for themselves. Finding a geared scav is like finding an instance boss. ¡°Then lets go that way.¡± Marcus replied, jerking his head in the direction. The two followed and led the way. Looking towards the trail, Marcus pulled out his scope and scanned the area ahead. He didn¡¯t know whether he should be relieved or worried as he caught a human silhouette peering out from one of the windows, around two hundred yards out. Turning to follow the two¡¯s lead, he watched them closely, trying to figure out if they knew about the men ahead but couldn¡¯t get a positive confirmation. Hoping it¡¯s just his paranoia, he kept it to himself. He knew that there would have to be a time where would start running with a dedicated team and the only way he would find them is for him to start taking risks. He just hoped his instincts were correct. CH 19: Scavengers Taking a puff off his cigarette, Marcus couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the sight of the broken multi kilometer ship dominating the city¡¯s skyline. Sitting a mile away, he watched as a lander descended towards the ship. It grew from a small dot in the sky into its distinctive stubby shape. Boosters flared as it decelerated and touched down on the hangar bays just as another lander hovered out and shot out at tremendous speeds into the sky. Looking down, Marcus raised his scope once more to scan the latest obstacle in their way. Figures moved about in the buildings overlooking their quickest way into the ship. They were lucky to have scouted out ahead first, as on the streets, they wouldn¡¯t have been able to detect the scavs laying in ambush before it was too late. Marcus counted around two dozen of them. Well armed and in a superior position, they hold no chance of sneaking past the group of scavs if they want to use the on-ramp they guarded. The ramp connected to the elevated road which cut through half of the city, snaking into the downtown, residential blocks and industrial area. It was the artery which allowed the passage of vehicles around the city along with leading straight to the crashed ship. Marcus watched as an armored car came out of the ship, up the ramp and sped using the road and headed north towards the edge of the city. Its massive turret swung from side to side, scanning for any hostiles. For a while, Marcus hoped that the scavs impeding their path would engage the vehicle, but none dared to and it safely exited the devastated city unmolested. Taking a final puff, Marcus flicked the cigarette off the side of the building and checked his weapons. They couldn¡¯t afford to take another detour. The next exit ramp was a mile out west and bore no guarantee that it would be clear of anything hostile. Fighting and risking death was the last thing in Marcus¡¯ mind this close to the ship, but the blocking scavs left him with no other choice. ¡°You have a plan?¡± Rex asked as Marcus turned to the two. He wondered if they would have been back on the ship if he would have just followed their route back, but it was all under the bridge now. ¡°Not much of it.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°We kill them, loot, and carry the spoils into the ship. I don¡¯t see any other way.¡± ¡°Should be fun.¡± Anna replied, looking to the side where Rex gave her a sharp look. ¡°What? You want to keep grinding away at mobs or do you want to get as close to actual PVP? I¡¯m sure they have accumulated quite a bit of loot considering that they¡¯ve been there for at least a week.¡± ¡°You knew they were here? Why would you keep that kind of information to yourself?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°We thought you were here to hunt them.¡± Anna replied, ¡°Its why you brought PVP gear with you. Isn¡¯t it?¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°Well, considering that I haven¡¯t been open with you guys, some misunderstanding is in order. Still, its too late for that. Here.¡± Marcus replied, handing over his m1911 to Anna, along with all his spare magazines. ¡°Better to have this gun online than it hanging off my waist. I will expect that back though.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s a beginner gun.¡± Anna protested. ¡°Its got history. So I want it back.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± Anna replied, letting the CAS take over as she mechanically checked the chamber and racked the slide. She didn¡¯t have a holster with her and so leaving her no other choice but to tuck the gun into her waistband. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± ¡°Are you the guy clans are looking for the past couple of days? You got the same name, and you look the part.¡± ¡°Is that going to be a problem?¡± Marcus asked, feigning surprise and hoped that he gave a good enough performance, ¡°Havent been back on the ship for a couple of days.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a problem, just curious.¡± Anna replied. ¡°Should we be moving into position?¡± ¡°Might as well.¡± The plan was straightforward. They would split up. Anna and Rex would go for their own building, while Marcus would take care of one of the buildings alone. The scavs have set themselves up in opposite buildings, both facing the ramp on the center. It allowed maximum coverage and zero cover below. It was a solid ambushing position, but it opened themselves up to be taken out one by one, with the road itself serving as an obstacle, separating the two buildings from each other. The scavs would be hard pressed to quickly respond to requests of backup if a building is attacked. Marcus wasn¡¯t the one to study defensive tactics, but he suspected that the positioning was a deliberate move by the game. ¡°Were in position.¡± Anna reported as Marcus neared his target building. ¡°Copy that. Two minutes out.¡± He replied. They kept the radio communication at the minimum for maximum stealth and seemed to have worked so far. Marcus approached his target building from the tight alleys and crept slowly and stealthily. He entered the building adjacent to his target and climbed to the second floor. Through an open balcony sharing the same level as the building next door, Marcus jumped the gap and gained entry on his target undetected. Scanning the empty apartment, he opened the door into an empty and quiet corridor. ¡°I¡¯m in position.¡± He said through the radio. ¡°Quietly take out as much as possible.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Creeping through the apartment building, stealth was his closest friend. He cranked up the output of his digital headset to listen in on any noise. It would warn him of incoming enemies. From his recent count, he could expect a minimum of twelve scavs in this apartment building with more probably hidden within. In real life, he wouldn¡¯t even consider attacking a force which outnumbered to that extent, but here in a game setting, he expected him to have a good chance of getting out alive. Marcus approached the stairs leading up and laughter echoed from the higher levels and was coming closer. His heart started racing. Marcus flicked his selector to full auto but a second later, reconsidered and flicked it back to semi automatic. It would not do him well to panic and dump his magazine in a couple of seconds. Footsteps tapped against the tiled stairs, and Marcus a leg coming down and adrenaline dumped through his system. Slinking into cover, he peeked around the corner, looking up the flight of stairs, and pulled back as he saw the first figure coming down. His finger tingling, he backed off the corner and raised his rifle, aiming at the bottom landing. He waited as the scavs went down the stairs. Marcus did his best to steady his breathing and relax his racing heartbeat. He could hear the roar of blood pumping through his ears and stepped out into the main corridor as he saw the boots hit the lowest stair. Flicking his light, he illuminated a trio of ragtag NPCs. Their clothes were unkempt and bore rips and tears worn from heavy use, and the layer of dirt caked into their skin showed that they hadn¡¯t seen a shower in months. On their shoulders were long guns hanging off their slings. Marcus paused, watching their surprised expression for a second. Doubting whether he would shoot first, The Scavs helped him decide as they reached for their weapons and Marcus responded with a flurry of fire. They have stacked almost on top of each other as they descended the stairs and all Marcus had to do was to pull his trigger as fast as he could. He pulled his rifle up to aim at the scavs higher up the stairs, hitting everyone and all fell, sliding down and stopping on the second floor. Expecting more, Marcus switched magazines and started up the stairs to clear the third floor. From the outside, Marcus had counted the building¡¯s floors to have four levels. With two floors left, It was a lot of work to make sure that everything is clear on his building. Sounds of fighting ignited on the other side of the street. It seemed like the two had also found the scavs. Marcus felt an urge to contact them about how it was going, but pushed the thought away. He needed to focus on himself. He flicked the light on for a second, revealing a cleared stairway. Slowly, he ascended, hoping only that there was no one waiting for him in one of the multiple blind spots he is opening himself to. ¡°Who¡¯s that! Who shot!¡± came a voice ahead. ¡°I said who shot?¡± Marcus remembered a quote from someone on what is the best way to clear a stairway. The old man said in his gravely voice that the best way is to get out of the buildings, stand back two hundred yards away and send an 500lb bomb. That way, you clear the stairway and the rest of the building. It was made as a joke, but the real answer is that there is no best way to clear one. As for the conventional way, you need as many rifles online ready to react and shoot. For Marcus, he was alone, and he could only hope that no one was watching the stairs. ¡°You three bastards down there?¡± the same voice continued. He then rounded the corner to stand surprised, looking face to face with Marcus. Marcus stood at the landing between the two floors, waiting for the owner of the voice. As the Scav rounded the corner, Marcus was prepared to fire. A single headshot ended the scav¡¯s life. His head snapped as if given an uppercut, his body went rigid as he fell on his back in the middle of the hall. Panic voices followed along the hall, and Marcus surged up the stairs where it opened up to the hallway, splitting both ways into the building. Marcus needed to figure something out quick, he¡¯s open on both front and his back. With no novel idea appearing, Marcus leaned to peek around and saw a Scav ahead. He had a pistol held in his hands and both spotted each other at the same time. But instead of shooting, he shouted just as Marcus took his shot, ¡°Enemy here!¡± More clamoring footsteps sounded in the hall behind him. Marcus stuck out his rifle, to the hall left of him and sent shots blindly. He was rewarded by a pained howl and the sound of someone falling on the floor. Emboldened, he peeked into the same hall only to be winged by a few lead shots and showered by pulverized concrete. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Warning!
Shield level: Minimally damaged
His shields flared, and Marcus pulled his head back into cover in time before sending another flurry of blindly aimed shots in the hallway. Shouts came from the floor above him, echoing through the stairway walls. He was out of luck, enemies coming from multiple directions. To buy time, he sent the rest of the rounds in the magazines around the same hallway and until he felt the bolt lock back. With one smooth motion, Marcus reached for a full magazine on his vest while the other pressed the magazine release and let it fall to the floor. He thrust the rifle forward for better access and he slammed the magazine home before sending the bolt forward. A leg stuck out from the stairway above him, and he raised his rifle to shoot it. A body followed, tumbling down, and Marcus finished the scav before it even reached the bottom of the stairs. ¡°Fuck. Go back!¡± a voice shouted up the stairs, buying Marcus more time. He turned back to the occupied hallway to find another scav had charged him, rounded the corner and took a shot. Marcus¡¯ shields flared, breaking. Marcus raised his rifle in response before the Scav racked its pump shotgun. Rounds peppered the scav, hitting his chest multiple times with a center headshot ensuring that he was dead.
Warning!
Shield level: Destroyed
Buying for more time, Marcus flicked his rifle on full auto and filled the hallway. He swept his muzzle from side to side, hoping to score a hit for anyone that stood in the hallway. The bolt locked back for the second time and he let the rifle dangle on its sling. He then reached for his vest for a grenade and tossed it in an underhanded throw as he retreated to the floor below. A shout of warning cut off by the crack of the grenade. Marcus was already down the landing between the third and second floor as the grenade exploded. He secured the spent magazine as he reloaded. Looking at his depleted shields, blindly attacking turned out to be a dumb move, and he was lucky to get out of the situation relatively unscathed. ¡°Were facing heavy resistance. Both are fine.¡± Anna reported through the radio. ¡°Hartdegen, are you faring any better? Can you assist?¡± ¡°I¡¯m having problems myself. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to help. I got full health but my shield broken.¡± Marcus responded. Looking around, he found a building map posted on the wall. Marcus cursed himself for not noticing it the first time. He tore the map down the wall and looked for emergency stairs access. There is one on the other end of the hall. Happy to find another way upstairs, Marcus went in the direction of the fire exit but paused. If the defenders have the half the common sense, they would have posted someone to watch them. The sounds of fighting from the other building intensified. ¡°Hartdegen, they got us pinned down. We¡¯re trapped.¡± ¡®Fuck.¡¯ Marcus muttered, pressing the transmit button. ¡°Keep yourselves alive. I¡¯ll find a way on this end.¡± He said as he turned back to the stairway and heard no movement save for a faint moaning from the floor above. The scavs above seemed to be content with holding their position. Marcus can¡¯t go further up the same stairs, he would have to find another way. Moving quickly, he frantically searched the rooms on his floor. Going to the balconies, an idea popped into his head. A stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless. Checking his magazines, he counted one half full and one empty and spent a few moments topped them up. He dropped his bag and took the last grenade from his pack, then hiding it by tucking it under the apartment beds and moved to the balcony. The architecture of the building bore horizontal channels carved into the concrete which Marcus could cling to. He looked up and planned his move before cinching his sling tight against his body to keep it from flopping around. Taking a deep breath and hoping that none would see him scaling the side of the building, he grabbed the first handhold and tugged. It felt solid and able to take his weight but was able but barely able to pull himself up. Dropping back down, Marcus looked at his stats.
Name: Hartdegen Race: Human Player ID: 4374711912965355
Level: 12 Experience: 551/19,164 [Equipment and Inventory]
Health: 190/190
Stamina: 100/100 [Quests]
Shield: 48/400
Fame: 31 Nutrition: 65/100 [Traits and Skills]
Affiliation: Renegades Hydration: 80/100
Stats
Str End Cons Dex
8 (1.1) 5 (1.3) 9 3 (1.1)
Cha [Empty] [Empty] [Empty]
5
He managed to level up a few times before, and he had specifically saved his points for such an emergent need. Throwing caution to the wind, he put all the available stats into strength, reasoning that he needed the stats now. The effect was immediate. Strength flooded his muscles and his body felt lighter. With the added strength, Marcus tested his handholds and clung to the side of the building with much more ease. Making sure that he had three solid holds before reaching out, he managed to steadily scale the side of the building. He skipped the third floor, giving the ransacked apartment only a passing glance and went for the fourth floor balcony. With his shields fully recharged, Marcus vaulted over the barricade, serving as cover overlooking the streets below, and dropped into the room. Broken concrete crunched under his boots and he looked around the emptied apartments. The concrete walls separating the apartments had holes punched through them big enough for a person to duck into. It allowed an easier way to move between the rooms, allowing quick switching between firing positions. ¡®Punching throught without explosives would take a lot of effort and time. They¡¯ve been here for quite a while.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. Careful as to not disturb the spent brass cases littering the floor, Marcus crept out of the room. The trash littered the halls, and Marcus followed the distinct whispered conversation that threatened to develop into a shouting match. ¡°I¡¯m telling you that we rush down and take him out. He¡¯s just one man. We kill him and run to help the others on the other side.¡± ¡°The boss posted us here, so here we¡¯ll stay.¡± Another voice replied. ¡°We already got a problem of our own. Go pull out the sweeper.¡± Marcus peeked into the view of the conversation as one Scav left the group and get what Marcus suspected as the sweeper. He would bet a lot of money that it¡¯s not a broom. With one leaving for the other end of the building, three left behind and all were covering the stairs leading up. Marcus was lucky he didn¡¯t press the attack up the stairway as he would only get a face full of lead. Breathing slowly, Marcus raised his rifle towards the gathered group and fired just as a scav glanced his way. The scav managed to get a shout of alarm before before Marcus finished lining up a shot and pulled the trigger. He hit the scav on the top of his head, killing him instantly. He then shifted his aim towards the others, taking out one more with a burst before aiming for the third. But as Marcus shifted his aim, the third scav got into cover before he had a clear shot. Still, he kept his aim centered on where he would pop out of the corner and waited. But instead of exposing himself for an aimed shot, the scav simply stuck his gun around the corner and fired blindly. The shotgun boomed but missed Marcus two feet to his right. Marcus responded by peppering his location with measured shots, suppressing the scav in place. Hearing the scav swore, Marcus rushed the scav, surprising him before he could react and taking him out with a burst. Shouting sounded up ahead. The scav leaving for the sweeper was coming back and sounded as if he had someone with him. Marcus pulled back and got into cover as he reloaded his rifle. Unwilling to directly face against what they are brining to bear, Marcus pulled out a flashbang and stayed quiet. Footsteps sounded down the hall. He heard whispers that would have been inaudible if not for his electronic headset. Thinking they were close, Marcus popped the pin on the flashbang and threw it around the corner. It hit the bounced on the ground a second later, followed by a panic shout as it exploded with a blinding light and a disorienting explosion. Marcus rounded the corner and found two scavs reeling from the concussive blast. One held a PKM machinegun in his hands while the other was an SKS rifle. Raising his rifle, the scavs had already showed their unwillingness to keep prisoners, so Marcus decided to extend the same courtesy as he finished them off. Reloading, Marcus reached for the radio to check up on the others. ¡°You guys okay?¡± CH 20: The Unexpected ¡°You guys okay?¡± ¡°We were lucky. We managed to turn it around. We won¡¯t say no to some help though.¡± Anna replied. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll be-¡± Marcus was interrupted by a scav who managed to sneak close. Marcus heard him thanks to his headset, and he ducked into cover in one of the apartment rooms as pellets zipped by his head. Some winged him, his shield flaring as it absorbed the energy. But otherwise, Marcus was unscathed. Peeking his head for a split second to find the shooter, Marcus saw the scav before it reacted and fired his weapon, missing Marcus by a hair as he pulled his head back into cover. The scav was on the far end of the hallway, peeking around where the fire exit was located and is likely the one guarding it. Marcus had to give up the hallway, seeing as the scav had it covered. So, he made his way through the access holes punched through the walls to get a better angle. He crept between the rooms and heard the scav was also moving in response. A lighter flicked open, followed by the rasp of striking flint. A fuse lit, followed by firecrackers exploding into loud, echoing explosions. The sounds drowned every other sound, effectively eliminating Marcus¡¯ hearing advantage. Marcus held his position, straining his ears to listen past but failed, opting to stay in position until the firecrackers ran out and everything fell into relative silence. A minute later of hearing nothing, Marcus moved. He couldn¡¯t afford to out-wait the scav if he was still around, as he needed to help the others. Ducking into one of the rooms, he raised his rifle and peeked inside. The shape of the man-sized hole didn¡¯t give enough of a wide angle for Marcus to see everything inside the adjacent room, and so he slowly crouched to fit through. He saw the scav too late. Still, Marcus saw the shotgun pointed his direction. He snatched at the end of the barrel and pushed it up and away from him. With a deafening boom, the shotgun fired, showering the both of them with pulverized concrete only for the scav to take a step back and send a swift frontal kick hitting Marcus¡¯ chest. Landing solidly, the kick knocked the wind out of Marcus and he fell onto his back. The scav followed quick, ducking into the other room and kicked the rifle away from Marcus¡¯ grasp and racked the shotgun and pointed it to his face. Seeing the end of a 12 gauge barrel pointed at him, Marcus rolled towards his attacker in a vain attempt to dodge. It failed. Marcus felt the lead pellets sink into his gut as the point-blank shot shattered Marcus¡¯ shields. Without them, he knew he wouldn¡¯t have managed to survive the shot. Still alive, Marcus rolled again. He felt his body hit the Scav¡¯s legs and so he reached over before he got away and rack another shell and grabbed at his legs. Pulling with all his strength, Marcus knocked the leg under the scav and dropped him to the floor. He hit the ground with a loud thud, and Marcus heard a loud ¡®oof¡¯ coming from the man and crawled over him to keep him pinned. The scav wailed at Marcus, trying to send fist after first in an effort to push him away, but a high guard was enough to keep the strikes from doing damage. Timing a chance between the punches, Marcus sent a solid straight at the Scav¡¯s jaw, stunning him enough for Marcus to reach for his vest and pull out a knife. Holding the Ka-bar in an icepick grip with both hands, Marcus thrust the blade down with all his strength, yelling at the full of his lungs as he felt the tip of the blade break through skin, flesh and grind through bone. ¡°Die!¡± He yelled, over the scav¡¯s dying breath, twisting the knife before wrenching it free. Still in the heat of the battle, Marcus thrust the knife half a dozen more times before realizing that the scav was already dead. It all felt too real. Marcus crawled away from the body to find himself covered in blood. Half of it was his, as an urgent alert informed him.
Warning!
Heavy bleeding x4 -20 health/3s
Marcus looked down at himself. Blood poured out of his belly. If it was any more real, then he expected his guts to be hanging out, splayed out like a purple serpent emerging from his body. Reaching for his vest, he felt for the Phoenix regenerator stim, the ¡®good shit¡¯ given by Columbus, before he left the station and jammed it close to the wounds. Marcus panted as he rolled away. He laid on the floor for a moment, then looked at his bleeding abdomen. Reached for his vest for a stim, he pulled out ¡®the good shit¡¯ and stabbed it near the wound. The effect was immediate. Relief flooded through him, and Marcus looked at his wounds as the bleeding abated.
Attention!
Under the Phoenix Regenerator Stim, you are experiencing: All bleeds stopped No longer feel pain (600s) +20 health/3s (600s) Debuffs Tremor (60 minutes) X.8 Health (180 minutes) X.8 Endurance -90 Energy -90 Hydration
The effect was immediate. Relief flooded through him as pain washed away. He looked once more at his wounds to see it close by itself and heal. Marcus wanted to stay on the ground and take a breather, to think about what just happened, but he couldn¡¯t afford to rest. With effort, Marcus got to his feet and picked up his rifle, kicked into the corner of the room. Checking the MDR, it was undamaged save for a few scratches. He checked the action to make sure. ¡°I just got jumped. I¡¯m fine. How are you guys?¡± He asked through the radio. ¡°Doing fine, were at the fourth floor now, north side of the building against the last of the group. If you can help, then go ahead.¡± Anna replied. ¡°Roger that. I¡¯ll do what I can from here.¡± Marcus replied. Gritting his teeth, he leaned on the wall and peeled his bloody shirt to look at his wounds once more. The punctured holes have healed into dried scabs.
Warning!
Foreign body inside body cavity .9x health Heightened risk of infection
Seeing the alert, he felt at his back. The skin was smooth, which only meant that the pellets have failed to penetrate and are still stuck in his body. ¡°Fuck.¡± Marcus muttered. With a quick sweep, Marcus checked the floor and found no other live scavs. Marcus tried listening for any more waiting in ambush inside the building. If there still were, then he would have to congratulate him for letting his comrades die. Marcus stumbled back to where he suspected the ¡®sweeper¡¯ was and picked up the PKM discarded on the floor. The weapon was beat to hell, the paint had been sanded into bare metal. The stock had been cracked at some point and had been fixed with wood glue and a length of baling wire. Still, it looked to be in working order, and he checked the metal can attached had a 200-round belt already loaded.
Item Information:
The Street Sweeper (PKM) Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! A general purpose machine gun derived from the designs of the AK-47. Firing from an open bolt, it is less susceptible to ammunition cook off inside the chamber making it suitable for intense firing. Caliber: 7.62x54R Weight: 7.5Kg Requirement: 8 Str. Unique Named Rifle: Can only be modified by the original owner. Further modification of weapon will remove bonuses. Bonus: +30 damage when shooting from an elevated position
Looking around, Marcus picked up an extra box of linked ammunition from the man with the SKS. He then carried the machine gun towards the south windows facing the other building and used his thermal scope to scout out for signatures. Marcus could see glimpses of the two fighting against a group of scavengers on the southern side. The windows allowed Marcus to have a clear shot towards the scavengers. Looking at the gun, the Combat assistance system gave no help, and so Marcus had to rely on his own knowledge to operate the weapon. Marcus had never shot the gun or anything like it but he had some idea from watching videos featuring the weapon. He extended the bipod, laying it atop the barricades. Marcus then pulled at the charging handle extending from the side and watched as a live round spat out through an opened port. Already loaded, Marcus shouldered the stock and aimed at the windows. Flicking the safety selector off, Marcus reached for the radio. ¡°If you can, lure them forward so I could get a shot.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± Anna replied, and Marcus could see them trying to pull back. Settling his breath, Marcus watched the windows in the opposite building, waiting. Gunfire erupted continuously from both ends of the opposite building in an uneven exchange. A scav then moved forward, presenting himself. Marcus took aim and fired a controlled burst. Bullets impacted around the scav, puffing out a cloud of pulverized concrete. There was no further movement from his target and Marcus guessed that the first shot missed, then the rest following close, would likely take him out. With the element of surprise now gone, Marcus continued to suppress the windows, pouring in burst after burst inside the buildings. ¡°I¡¯m suppressing.¡± Marcus reported on the radio. ¡°Go and press the attack. They won¡¯t be able to retaliate as much.¡± Marcus continued laying down fire. He slowed as he noticed little movement and only for him to duck his head as the Scavs tried in vain to shoot back. The distance between the buildings and his cover rendered the shots ineffective as he continued pouring down rounds after rounds into the building. Adding the effective spotting of the thermal, Marcus made sure that the scavs are effectively suppressed, allowing for Rex and Anna space and opportunity to flank around and take them out. The gun then ran out of ammunition. The belt fell off the gun and Marcus reached for the other can containing a fresh two hundred round belt. With the CAS unavailable to him, Marcus took the tab on the end of the belt and inserted it through the chute. He didn¡¯t want to fiddle with the top cover and so he pulled the tab to the other side and racked the bolt back. He felt the belt engage, and he fired, only for an empty clunk as the bolt was sent forward on an empty chamber. They said that the loudest sound in a battlefield is the click of an empty rifle, and Marcus found it to be true. Reaching for the charging handle, he racked it again and watched as the belt moved up one more round and hoped that it would work this time. Marcus aimed at a scav peeking over the window and fired. He was rewarded with a staccato of fire, and Marcus eased at the trigger. There were less scavs moving about in the next building with Anna and Rex moved up forward, tightening the noose. Soon, their defenses melted from the combination of frontal charges and harassing fire on their flanks. With a triumphal fist, Rex stood on the end of the balcony. Anna stood close by, shaking her head. ¡°You guys good?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°We¡¯ve burned through all medical supplies, ammo is almost gone. Problem now is sifting through all these loot and making sure no one else comes for a third party. You?¡± Anna replied. ¡°A bit roughed up. Caught a buckshot in the gut. Still alive and suffering through the debuffs.¡± ¡°You need help?¡± ¡°No, no. Its already healed over. We could just rush it so I could get back to the ship and get treatment there. Loot what you can within fifteen minutes and we¡¯ll meet up.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± Anna replied. With that, Marcus around the building to collect their take. He moved and sifted through the dead bodies, and checked the unopened crates. It contained some food and water, along with some ammunition. There were other energy weapons collected, and he guessed they were looted from other players as none of the scavs carried them. Fifteen minutes later, Marcus finished looting the scavs and laid their guns and ammunition to one side. Everything added up to quite a bit of a haul, with half a dozen shotguns of varying make, three SKS rifles, a couple of pistols, the PKM, and a Mosin, which Marcus preferred to call the garbage rod. For ammo, they got ahead with a couple hundred 7.62x39, couple boxes of 9mm and boxes of 12-gauge shotgun shells of different types ranging from buckshot and bird shot to slugs. For the higher calibers, a few packets of 7.62x54r left from an opened ammo can and what¡¯s left of the second ammo can for the PKM. Luckily, there were bags on the location and all Marcus could do was to load them inside. With his added strength stat, his carry weight increased, but the amount of loot collected dictated that he would have to take the rest of the trip over encumbered. ¡°How heavy do you think we have in here?¡± Marcus asked the two as they met up by the street. They had collected all the valuable loot in one of the building¡¯s rooms enough to make a small mound. The three stood by, looking at the haul and Marcus looked at the two, who looked like they had been in the same deep shit as he did. ¡°More than we could carry.¡± Rex replied. ¡°Actually,¡± Anna called, ¡°I might have something that might help.¡± ¡°Oh, come on. You¡¯re not calling them, are you?¡± Rex protested. ¡°Who?¡± Marcus asked. If there were going to be others included on this run, he felt he needed to at least know who they were. ¡°Some friends.¡± Anna winked. ¡°They have a vehicle which they can use to come and pick us up. For a price, of course.¡± ¡°And these guys, you trust them at least?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°They¡¯re solid. If they¡¯re around, they can be here in no time.¡± ¡°Alright. Go ahead.¡± ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll call them.¡± Anna said, pulling out a satellite phone and dialing a number. She set it on speaker and the three waited for the phone to ring. ¡°If were going to get a ride, I¡¯m going to get the rest.¡± Rex muttered, leaving. Watching Rex get up the stairs, Marcus stayed with Anna as the call connected. ¡°Hello? Yeah. We need a pickup. On the exit one mile north of the ship. The one where noobs are told not to go.¡± ¡°No no. We don¡¯t need backup. We need a quick extract. We also have some loot with us that¡¯s too heavy to carry.¡± ¡°Just get here. We¡¯ll be waiting.¡± ¡°So now we wait.¡± Anna said, ending the call. ¡°Cool.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°I¡¯ll go get the rest too.¡± he said, going back to the building to retrieve the loot he left for weight. Marcus heard the vehicle long before it rumbled down the ramp. Its padded treads thumped against the asphalt, echoing far into the silent city. A stealthy vehicle, it was not. Surprised, Marcus could only look at Anna as the boxy shape of an M113 rumbled down the road armed with an M2 Browning machine gun mounted on top and was fitted with armor slats to protect the gunner. For the moment, no one was manning it and Marcus watched as the armored personnel carrier stopped in front of them, then turned in place. The commander¡¯s hatch popped open and out came a blond woman wearing desert camo fatigues, a tanker¡¯s helmet and a grease stained face. ¡°Hey Anna! Hey Rex!¡± she greeted with a beaming smile. Finding the APC crewed by a woman was another surprise layered atop the vehicle itself rolling down the street. He looked at Anna, who greeted the tankers with a smile of her own. The APC commander hopped out of the vehicle to meet her with a hug as the rear hatch opened with a pneumatic hum. The commander then released her hug with Anna and turned to give it to Rex, which was looking shy and hesitant as he wrapped his hands around her. Awkward, Marcus stepped back and looked around and used his thermal to scan the buildings. ¡°So. Who¡¯s this guy?¡± A blond woman reaching about the same age as Anna looked Marcus up and down. Feeling more like a piece of hanged meat, Marcus could only look back raise his eyebrow at her. ¡°Ripley, this is Hartdegen. If the name doesn¡¯t ring a bell, then you should know that he cleared an entire building by himself and helped with ours too in the process.¡± ¡°Oh, cool.¡± Ripley nodded, looking around and looked at the pile of weapons. ¡°What happened to the creepy guys?¡± ¡°They ditched us when we ran to Hartdegen here. They thought he was going to PK them. But he won¡¯t have to after they kicked us off their own group to keep the quest rewards for themselves. I¡¯ll gladly do it myself.¡± ¡°Look. I hope you girls don¡¯t mind me cutting into your conversation, but I think this isn¡¯t the time and place to share stories right now.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. Go on then, get your loot loaded up so we could get on the road.¡± Marcus nodded and loaded their cargo while the two women stood by the side, continuing their conversation as if this was the perfect place for it and letting the men do the work. Marcus carried a bag inside and locked eyes with a female driver. She wore the same desert cookie camo with her tanker¡¯s helmet. Strands of black hair peeked under the helmet. Saying nothing, she simply nodded. Marcus nodded back and turned to get another bag of loot. Soon the interior of the M113 designed to carry eleven fully armed men quickly filled up as they stacked bags of guns, assortments of bullets, gear and other random stuff. Unluckily, none of items they found to fit the materials Marcus required to fill his shopping list. Still, it didn¡¯t bother him much as he expected to fill it the moment he gets back on the ship. With all the loot loaded up. Marcus joined Anna and Rex in the rear compartment. The hatch rolled up and Ripley crawled through the commander¡¯s hatch, securing it, and Marcus felt his ears pop from the positive pressure inside the compartment. ¡°Oh. Marcus, I bet you have met Adept. She doesn¡¯t talk. I mean she can, she just prefers not to.¡± ¡°I bet she has a sweet voice.¡± Marcus replied. Adept started the tank. The diesel engine roared and replaced the quiet inside the tank. Marcus could barely hear anything inside, even with his headset. The APC then lurched forward, and they were underway. Through the thin padded seats, Marcus could feel the individual tracks as they hit the concrete, along with the APC leaning back as it ascended the ramp. The M113 then gained speed, which made the journey more comfortable, but not much. From the vibrations, Marcus could feel the lead pellets still lodged in his gut and promised that he¡¯ll have to run to the hospital the moment he gets out of the vehicle. Still, even with the noise, the cramped conditions, and the pain in his gut, Marcus found himself leaning back and relaxing. It was the first moment in a few hours where he found himself not reacting to any noise nor not looking out for any danger. Add the haul and the armored car, it was looking like running with Anna and Rex turned out to be one of the best decisions he had so far. CH 21: All for a days work The trip back to the ship was uneventful. There were no view ports to look out of. All you can do inside the APC was admiring the bland green painted and cramped interior and feel the tracks rapping against the asphalt. The APC then tilted backward, followed by the engine revving into higher rpm as the vehicle climbed an incline. It flattened out, turned to the left, then the engine cut off. The rear hatch opened down, forming into a ramp with the pneumatic whine. I stepped out of the cramped confines of the APC, only to be assaulted by the noxious smells of burnt fuel mixed with spilled oil.
Attention!
You have entered UNCS Light of the Stars
The shemagh covering half my face helped somewhat, but not enough to take off the brunt of the fumes. We were in the middle of the Ship¡¯s vehicle bay, parked next to a fuel pump. Other vehicles were parked nearby, being worked on by either players or NPCs. Most were trucks, rusting, modified and fixed with jury-rigged parts. Nearby, a group of men were busy unloading crates from the bed of a faded white pickup truck. A protruding mount held an M2 browning machine gun, currently unloaded and was pointing up to the sky. One noticed me, looking at them, and tapped at the man next to him. He was bending over to put down a crate on the nearby hand trucks. They wore patchwork and mismatched camo. From what I learned from visiting the outfitters inside the ship, brand new looking gear bring no additional stat or skill bonuses, which meant that these men are likely higher levelled than me. After a brief stare down, the two nodded and gave a thumbs up, pointing at the M113. It wasn¡¯t mine, nor will I even bother to tell them, so I just nodded back instead. ¡°Hey boys. You better start unloading your stuff since we have another job lined up.¡± Ripley said, peeking over the turret. ¡°And pull out your chit for gas money.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pay for it.¡± I said, jogging around the back and looking at the tank commander.
Attention!
You are charged 1000 credits for: [Gas] Pay? [Y/N]
¡°Thank you.¡± She said, after confirming the transfer. ¡°No problem.¡± I replied. Still, it was a lucky to strike an introduction. Who would have thought that taking a risk can pay out like it did. ¡°Hey Ripley. How filled is your schedule? Asking if I¡¯d call you when I need something done safely in the city.¡± ¡°We just complete contracts as we get it, but you can fill in a reservation for a specific time. What do you need us for?¡± ¡°I need you to help me transport some supplies three miles into the city. How much would that cost me?¡± ¡°We charge depending on the location, the distance and our time spent there. So I won¡¯t be able to spitball a number for you.¡± ¡°How about you give me a safe estimate?¡± Ripley shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe ten grand if were only going to spend an hour on location with an additional two as deposit for the ammo we might use on the way.¡± ¡°Alright. Cool.¡± I nodded. Although steep, the price was equivalent to three AKM rifles fresh from Stoner¡¯s shop. I also did happen to carry the equivalent of a blank check with the caveat that I need to explain the spending at the end. But that won¡¯t be a problem given that the APC will be transporting supplies valuing a lot more. Next came the divvying of the loot. A hand truck was nearby and Rex and I secured one after paying a hiring fee from a nearby NPC. It was a straightforward affair of simply handing over the needed credits and taking the hand trucks, then rolling it nearby the APC. We started filling it, to be sorted later. ¡°Okay. That is quite a lot.¡± Anna said as we filled one and had to go back to get another hand truck and almost loaded it up. ¡°Quite heavy too.¡± Rex added, stretching his back for emphasis. ¡°Oh, come on, you baby. It¡¯s not that bad. I made Ripley look your way whenever you ''re carrying the heavy stuff.¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± Rex turned away, towards where Ripley and Adept had taken in a team of five inside the cabin, and closed the door. The engine turning, Ripley popped up the hatch and waved them a goodbye as the APC lurched forward and rolled out of the ship. ¡°See! I¡¯m sure she appreciated the view.¡± Rex said something in response, and I did my best to ignore their banter. Whatever was going on between them and how they connected with each other wasn¡¯t my business. In the pile was the PKM I looted from the scavs. I didn¡¯t need to call dibs on the weapon as the two barely even sent a glance at it even after looking at the stats. My ownership of the weapon had been established the moment I picked it up. It was heavy, and not really for me to carry outside the ship. It would be perfect for fixed positions or withing squads and would also be a great gift for a certain someone. A crusty old goblin that had a penchant for bribes and could likely buy his friendship like Columbus did with his Mossberg. Add maybe a crate of belted ammunition and we can start cooking with gas. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be ecstatic to give me my own permission to trade after a promise of getting more guns, parts, and ammunition to arm his forces. It would be a good enough consolation for being made as the gopher. ¡°Should we have them priced and just split according to value?¡± Anna asked after she finally stopped from her teasing. From the bits I got from the two, Rex had a crush with Ripley, which is Anna¡¯s friend, but was too shy to do anything about it. Something that Anna was eager to bust her best friend¡¯s balls with. ¡°I know just the man to call to get the guns appraised.¡± I replied, thinking of a certain grumpy man. Heading for the armory, the going was slow. Even with the small motor adding motive force, getting all the loot was still a workout. My stomach hurt, a reminder from the pellets still stuck inside me. Still, it wasn¡¯t anything more than a nuisance at the moment, which is why I ignored it to be dealt with later. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. We arrived and entered the armory with a crowd of players all lined up. All heads turned our way as the shrill whirring of the electric motor caught their attention. Their eyes then landed on the pile of loot, and someone blew a low whistle. Looking at Stoner, he looked up to meet my gaze. Giving a small nod, he jerked his head towards the door leading further into the store. I nodded back and led our group to the door and was buzzed in. We waited. Rex and Anna were almost about to break their necks from looking around inside. With nothing else to do, I led the hand truck to one of the empty tables and started laying out the haul. The table lined with half a dozen SKS rifles, two Mosin rifles, a dozen 12 gauge shotguns ranging from pump action to double barrel, along with a strange 20 gauge bolt action shotgun with an under folding stock. The table creaked and threatened to break from all the weight put on to it when Stoner stepped to the back, having finished dealing with his customers. ¡°Nice haul. I¡¯m guessing you cleaned up some trash outside?¡± He said. ¡°Something like that.¡± I replied. Stoner grunted. Walking over to the tables, he picked up a SKS. Turned it over in his hand and racked it, checking the chamber with his pinky, which came with fine soot. He grunted, laying it back and moving to the shotguns until he sampled all the weapons. ¡°I can give you a thousand each for the rifles and twelve hundred for the shotguns, two for the Mosin and five hundred for this little toy. ¡± Not knowing if the price was good, I kept my mouth shut while Rex and Anna exchanged glances. ¡°That¡¯s a bit too low, isn¡¯t it?¡± She asked. ¡°We can sell them directly to players for a lot more than that.¡± ¡°Look, I know you¡¯re being considerate on showing me all these to sell them to me first, but I¡¯m not running a junk shop. If I buy these to sell them for later, then they¡¯ll all just end up taking space and collecting dust. I could, of course, send them to the remote villages, but that will take a lot of my time. I will buy your ammo you¡¯ll sell around resale value all because of Hartdegen here.¡± Looking at the guns on the table, I could say that I could sympathize with Stoner. The SKS rifles, although firing the same caliber as the AK, are far inferior compared to it. Sure, the AK costs more and theoretically less accurate compared to the SKS, but the automatic fire mode and cheap detachable 30 round magazines far outweighs any disadvantage the SKS had over it. As for the shotguns, they would sell within seconds if I happen to get it to the goblin settlement, but the price they might go for risks me taking an overall loss. A market research had to be done first before I move from selling parts I could take from broken rifles laying in Stoner¡¯s shop. ¡°I think its fine with me. Just take my cut off my hands.¡± I replied, arguing over pennies won¡¯t be worth it in the end if it ensures even more business. Which reminds him. ¡°Also, I you and I need to talk after this. I need to get myself patched up.¡± I said, which Stoner nodded. ¡°I guess I should dump them too.¡± Rex added. Anna sighed. ¡°So do I then.¡± After counting the ammo and other junk, subtracting the expenses on the overall pool, we all came with a cool 30k each. We all bid Stoner a goodbye and split up. I went my way to find the medical bay while they tried to find their previous teammate. After a quick payment to the doctor there, I went under the auto doc for to get the pellets out. The auto doc looked more like a torture device, looking like a dead spider hung on the ceiling. It had eight arms curled into its main body, with each appendage tipped with medical implements. After a shot of painkillers and sedatives that should knock me out, I laid on the table underneath the contraption and watched as the spider like arms worked about scanning, then opening me up. Pain lanced up my body, causing me to involuntarily sieze up. The pain was excruciating. Whatever they gave me didn¡¯t work, and I soon blacked out.
Attention!
You have been forcibly logged out.
The pod doors opened as I regained woke up in the real world. My heart was running a mile a minute, and I was fully covered with sweat, panting. That was going too far. Everything else could be chalked up to just me being the odd man out for being unsettled by the gore and ultrarealism that was sometimes shown. I was thinking about calling the pod manufacturer when my phone rang. It was on the bed sitting next to a pile of dirty clothes I had¡¯¡¯t been able to send to the cleaners due to my time being taken up by the game. All I could do in my free time between sessions is to make sure that I ate, drank, and exercise. After that, I was too tired to do anything else; so the rest was spent on sleep. The caller was from an unknown number. ¡°Hello?¡± I answered. ¡°Hello, I am Lev Juhart, a representative of Silver Manufacturing is this Mr. Marcus Corvo?¡± The voice asked. Silver Manufacturing is the maker of the pod and is the subsidiary of Forgelectrics, the company who also owned Burned asylum. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s me.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been receiving abnormal readings from your pod, sir. We have been notified of multiple occasions of going past the danger threshold. As per our warranty policy, we would like to send a representative to check your machine for any faults.¡± ¡°Is it just me? Or are you having this kind of problem with a lot of people?¡± ¡°I am not in the liberty to share that information, sir. Sorry.¡± Fuck. Of course they won¡¯t. ¡°Alright. When do will expect your technician to come?¡± ¡°We can have them at your address within an hour, sir. For medical reasons, we also advise that you do not use the pod until then.¡± ¡°Alright. Just get them here.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir. We will send you the credentials.¡± Sighing, I accepted. It¡¯s not like I had any choice in the matter. I then got to the shower to freshen up and cooked up a quick meal. With 30 minutes to spare, I now had the chance to look up my game account and transfer my in game credits to real Martian money. All the work done in the past few days and I was twelve hundred MRC richer after converting everything Ylenka and Columbus gave me, equivalent to a month and change of living expenses. With a bit more time to spend before the technicians come in, I opened up the web and started typing up the issues I found while playing the game. The amount of realism put into the game was of a horrible degree. The feeling of the knife grinding against the scav and the way he looked at me was too real. Add the pain I just experienced before getting kicked out, I didn¡¯t want to be traumatized by a game. The answers I found is that it wasn¡¯t an issue. There wasn¡¯t even any mention of the horrific realism in the game mentioned on the net. Not even in private forums where you have to pay for entry and another payment to read informational posts. Anything related to my issues were old posts, speculative pieces from news websites, and scientific papers discussing another subject entirely. It just seemed like the issue was only happening to me. Was it the reason the company was checking up on the pod? Is it broken? I hope so, because I don¡¯t want to deal with the implications if it turns out that it wasn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t have any more time to ponder on that problem as I received a message telling that the technician was already in my Hab. A while later, the doorbell chimed, and I went to the viewing screen to find the technician waiting outside. He wore the usual overalls bearing the Silver Manufacturing logo and was carrying a tool box. ¡°Hello, sir. I¡¯m the technician sent to check on your pod.¡± He said, pulling up his ID in front of the camera for me to see. The screen then linked up with the web, searched the company¡¯s employee list and confirmed that he is employed under them. He was listed as a senior technician and his face matched the one shown on the database. ¡°Go on in.¡± I said, unlocking the door. The door swung open, and the technician strode in after sending me a nod. He went straight for the pod and laid out his tools connecting wires into ports and started his diagnostics. I closed the door behind him and watched as he worked. His pad showed all green colors, which didn¡¯t bode well for me at all. ¡°It¡¯s clean.¡± The technician said after a few minutes. ¡°Nothing is wrong with it. Software and Hardware is working properly. The neural connection is at the right level.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the problem then?¡± I asked. ¡°I have no idea, sir. I¡¯m just sent here to make sure that your pod is working properly. I¡¯m going to have to report this up the chain of command and you can deal with them then.¡± He said, pressing buttons on the pad and I managed to sneak a peek that he had sent the data up to the company. ¡°I also recommend you shouldn¡¯t use the pod at the moment until the issue has been resolved.¡± I nodded, but said nothing else as I led him out of my apartment. Another call them came as I sat on my bed and saw that it was the same number as before. ¡°Hello?¡± CH22: Back on the ship Marcus was livid. No. He was murderous. Coming out of the quarter hour long phone call from the resource officer introducing himself as Lev Bauza was enough to convince him to throttle the man the moment they meet despite how unlikely it would be. With nothing he could do, Marcus was left to stew. After finding nothing wrong with the pod, the representative reasoned that Marcus was a health hazard according the company¡¯s policy and decided to simply cut his pod¡¯s access to the rest of the game remotely, making it nothing more than a human sized and expensive paperweight. No amount of bargaining stopped the man from doing what he did. Marcus tried suggesting him of making a waiver for him to sign handing all liabilities to fall on him and away from the company, but the representative still refused, citing that it was beyond his power. ¡®He just didn¡¯t care¡¯, Marcus thought. That was the only way he could maintain a living, and yet he persisted. The man knew that he was ruining Marcus, but he just didn¡¯t care. ¡®Was it because I was a nobody? I¡¯m sure¡¯, Marcus thought. If Marcus were someone important, they would do their best to cater to his situation and find a solution. ¡®But no, it was much easier for him to just take the pod away from a nobody like me.¡® ¡®Fuck¡¯. Marcus needed someone to talk to, but he had no one to call. Ylena, his psychologist, could lend an ear and help him mentally, but is unlikely to help him directly. He needed a smoke. He walked over to his bathroom and set the blowers to the maximum before lighting up a smoke. The tobacco helped on taking the edge off the stress as he racked his brains trying to think his way out of his situation. No matter how much he tried, his thoughts came back to the other one that offered help. The scion, the alien AI that approached him at the electronics store offering a helping hand, to which Marcus only looked back with annoyance. Still, with nothing else, he had to try. Calling back the representative would only yield the same result of nothing. Marcus decided, even if he had to beg the AI, he would as long as it could help him. Flicking the butt in the toilet, Marcus made up his mind. Checking the social media sites for the latest confirmed sightings of Scions, Marcus changed into his tracksuit. The closest was roaming the park. Jogging through the halls connecting the Habs, Marcus made his way to the Jewel park within record time. His stamina had increased from the past few days and he had just warmed up as he arrived, but the Scion was out of sight. Given that the park was massive, Marcus continued his run and running his route. All the while keeping out for any signs of the AI. A mile into the park, Marcus spotted the Scion with the help of a group of joggers parting before the floating AI. Zeroing in, Marcus approached with as much obvious intent as he could show to give the Scion as much warning as it could receive. ¡°We hope you are doing well, Mr. Corvo.¡± The scion greeted as Marcus stepped within earshot. ¡°Been doing good in some, in others, not so well.¡± Marcus replied as he approached. He stopped within arm¡¯s reach of the AI, the technical side of him marvelling at how the AI stayed afloat with no sound, heat, or any sign of how it stays off the ground. ¡°We see.¡± The AI replied. ¡°The last conversation you had with a scion, we have computed the chance of you not approaching us for a considerable amount of time.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you can always bet on the wild card. Sometimes chance and probability just doesn¡¯t go your way.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°As you have demonstrated.¡± The scion bobbed up and down. ¡°What can we help you with?¡± Barely able to hold his desperation, Marcus asked with a shaky voice. ¡°You offered to help me back at the electronic store. Does that offer still stand?¡± The scion didn¡¯t reply right away, it instead bobbed up and down. Marcus waited for its reply. Thinking that he might not have said his question clear enough, Marcus was about to repeat himself when the Scion replied. ¡°Yes.¡± The scion said ¡°The offer still stands. Would you like us to offer you assistance?¡± Marcus breathed a sigh of relief and started telling his situation. Back at the store, Marcus said to the AI that it was none of its business, but now, it was the opposite. ¡®Fuck my pride. Let it be stomped into the ground.¡¯ He thought as he continued, diving into the specific details as per the Scion¡¯s requests. With the shred of pride Marcus still had remaining, he asked for him to be given help, not a handout. The Scion agreed in the end to raise his situation to someone in the company who could help. ¡°If you guys ever need anything, I¡¯ll be happy to help with what I can.¡± Marcus replied, extremely thankful as he knew that a yes from them is as good as done. He wanted to hug the Scion, but settled to another round of heartful thanks. The scion bobbed up and down, then left without excusing itself. Just like last time. It then floated down the path, passing by a mother and a child who yanked her little boy away as it tried to reach after the AI to touch it. Marcus chuckled at the sight. How humans could get used to almost anything. He then turned away from the mother, now scolding her child, and started running back home. As soon as Marcus got home, he checked his pod¡¯s connection and smiled as confirmed a strong link to the servers. Not wasting time, he showered and changed to a fresh set of clothes, diving back into the world of VR. Marcus logged back in and found himself in the middle of the market. The scents and sounds of a bustling market were a stark contrast to his silent and empty apartment. Players and NPCs walked by him, followed by the distinct scent of burning meat. A part of Marcus wanted to visit the old lady¡¯s grill, but decided against it as he immediately set off for the lower levels to fill his list and make up for the lost time. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Next to the vehicle bay was the General store which sell and cater to the ship¡¯s hardware needs. It is also the business where players sell their miscellaneous loot. While apparels and guns are sold to both Stoner and the Outfitters, the rest fall to the general store where everything is bought and sold and is the likeliest place where Marcus could find the materials to fill his list. Just like Stoner¡¯s armory and the outfitters, the General store occupied one of the ship¡¯s cargo holds and held massive amounts of goods. Entering, Marcus noted the heavy duty shelves reaching up to the ceiling filled with crates of building materials, tools, equipment and raw stock. The smell of rust and oil dominated the interior where he found the owner busily working on a burned out transformer. Marcus said nothing as he approached. The owner continued working, his long spindly fingers worked fast as he routinely took off the casing, separated the burned out coils from the still salvageable core, and put them into their individual boxes for further sorting. ¡°What can I help you with?¡± The owner asked as he finished cleaning up. He looked up, tucking his greasy long hair, and looked at Marcus through thick wire-rimmed glasses. Grease stained his deeply wrinkled face yet moved with the energy of a much younger person. He then picked up the boxes, containing enough scrap copper to weigh 40 pounds, and lifted it over his head to put away into one of the shelves lining his store. ¡°I need this filled.¡± Marcus replied, pulling the list from his vest pocket and handing it over. ¡°And I¡¯m willing to pay a premium price for the brand new materials and not the ¡®used¡¯ kind, if you know what I mean.¡± ¡°What oh no.¡± The man laughed. ¡°I think you¡¯re mistaking something. Everything I sell here is freshly manufactured from the ship¡¯s foundry. These,¡± he said, pointing at the crates on the side, ¡°are for recycling.¡± ¡°The ship has a foundry? What else can it make?¡± Marcus asked. If the ship can manufacture everything the station needed, it wouldn¡¯t be a problem trying to find everything they needed. All it would take him to complete his quest was to load everything up and transport them. ¡°It can only refine materials.¡± The man smiled. ¡°What do you know about this ship?¡± ¡°Not enough I guess.¡± Marcus replied, remembering the tight halls and passages Columbus knew like the back of his hand. It wouldn¡¯t hurt him to know more about the ship. ¡°All I know is that it¡¯s a colony ship that brought the first wave of colonists into the planet. If you wouldn¡¯t mind, I¡¯d actually want to know more about it. Considering that it¡¯s pretty much my second home now.¡± He said.
Attention!
Charisma +1
¡°As you do.¡± The man nodded. ¡°We all consider this place our home, even before the war and even after the captain scuttled the ship in the middle of the city. You see, this ship, after it delivered its cargo of materials, machines and colonists, was retrofitted and continued its life as an asteroid mining ship. To maximize cargo capacity, it processed asteroids on site, returning with its large holds filled with every element in the table. I was part of the mining crew back then.¡± The man gave a longing smile, ¡°You should have seen it, holds filled with tons and tons of materials, taken to the planet to build homes and infrastructures for the colonies.¡± ¡°I can try to imagine,¡± I replied, ¡°But I feel that it would fall short to the real thing. Even with all its achievements, it¡¯s still impressive for it to still be serving humanity, even in its current state.¡± The man nodded. ¡°Some serve for the greater good, while others serve themselves.¡± He said, then looked at the list once again. ¡°I can get you the magnet wire and all the motor components that you need. As for the controllers, she ship has priority on any functioning silicon so I can¡¯t sell you those. You¡¯ll have to look for them yourself.¡± He said. ¡°You got a place where I could find some?¡± ¡°If I knew them, we¡¯d have already sent parties to clean it out.¡± ¡°Its that bad huh.¡± Marcus replied. The controllers are miniature computers that Bo insisted he needed for the maintenance of the station, as it would allow the most efficient running of all motors connected by monitoring and making adjustments in real time. Sure, Marcus could fix up a crude analog system using switches and relays, but it would be the plan b. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll take what I can. Can I like to pick it up sometime tomorrow?¡± Marcus said, handing over Columbus¡¯ card. The man swiped it at the till, and payment went ahead. He nodded. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll have it ready for pickup by then.¡± Marcus took the card and left the store. He was a dozen motor controllers short of filling his list, and so he followed the halls going further back into the ship and followed the growing sounds of players shouting over each other. The flea market was an organic development, extending from players wanting to trade with each other. A cargo hold was opened up for the market and was established with the permission of the ship¡¯s crew, along with attached restrictions. Monitored tightly, guns, explosives, ammo and shields are banned from being sold in the flea market. What was left were miscellaneous items, equipment, clothing and attachments, to name a few. But the restrictions only limited open trading of the restricted items, paving the way to the black market where everything is unregulated and everything is sold, even quest items stolen from other players and sold back to them at absurd prices, making it a lucrative trade to ransom quests from players. Then there is what players are rumored to be, a shadow market. The shadiest market where the rarest and most expensive objects are sold. There, there are no limits to what you can get as long as you got the money. Selling high quality hides for crafters! Unique equipment for sale! We have vests and backpacks with unique weight reduction! Selling 8x scope! Cheaper than the one sold in the Armory and just as good! Walking through, there weren¡¯t any controllers sold in the market. What¡¯s left are crafting materials, equipment, and items Marcus didn¡¯t need. Opening up the invite only chatroom, Marcus skimmed through the postings.
Super Secret Chatroom
.... Anon2223: Selling Looted M4a1. 6000c Attachments included. Anon9049: Selling Claymores 1500c ea. Flahsbangs, 800c ea. Anon1361: Bounty set for player; RatKing111. Player ID: 062761674348. 10,000c. Bring proof of kill. Anon6499: Selling ceramic armor plates. lvl4+ ....
Just like in the flea market, there were unfortunately none of the items on sale. Worst case, he would have to find the controllers themselves in the city, which would be a risk, as he might not find the items himself. He then checked his friends list and found that Columbus is still online. He opened up his chat to message him about the situation, only to get a notification instead.
Alert!
Unable to message Columbus Reason: in an inaccessible location
Marcus frowned as the closed the window. It might turn out to be much harder than he thought after all. CH 23: Questing and hustling ¡°What was that you said we talk about?¡± Stoner asked. ¡°I want to buy your trash so I could sell it somewhere.¡± Marcus replied as he approached the counter. ¡°If you¡¯re you¡¯re needing money that bad to want to buy my empty beer cans, I can give them to you for free.¡± He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s not that. I found a place where they¡¯re hurting to find good guns, but for the moment, I need to get some trigger parts to tide them through. So what I was thinking was to sift through your junked guns, take off parts and sell it to them since it will be an improvement to what they have at the moment.¡± ¡°What? You found some primitive tribe outside the ship?¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°Something like that.¡± Stoner looked far away as he mulled over it. Marcus knew he could be helping potential enemies in the off chance that the goblins living in the underground station turned out to be belligerent. It was one of the main reasons Marcus kept it vague, both to keep Stoner a layer of detachment from the potential crime. ¡°I can give you everything you want, given that I get to take a bite off it.¡± Marcus nodded, hiding his smile. ¡°No problem. How do you want to go about it?¡± ¡°I usually pull out major parts off the damaged guns if they look like they could be reused. Sometimes I couldn¡¯t be bothered salvaging parts and I just lump them together with the ones beyond saving. I then sell them to the foundry for 500c per kilo of steel. As long as you take the parts yourself, I can give them to you for 1000c for every kilo of parts.¡± ¡°Looks good. Lets go take a look,¡± Marcus replied. Following Stoner inside the shop, he couldn¡¯t help but feel giddy at the deal. It was a steal. As long as he shied away from heavier parts, like barrels, it would take a lot of small parts to add up to a full kilogram.
Attention!
Through multiple actions, you are qualified to receive: Negotiation (Skill) Increased chance of better outcomes when negotiating NPCs Slots available: 2/6 Would you like to take the skill? [Y/N]
Even with the short text, it was not a hard decision. Marcus accepted. Marcus found the corner where the written off guns were kept. Looking inside the crate, he looked over the pile that filled it to almost overflowing. They were burned, shot, cut and even bent. Whatever may have happened to them was a story on its own. Marcus picked up an AK whose receiver was torn open in the side like a tin can. Its top cover was missing, its bolt carrier bent. The receiver was past the point of repair from the rent tracing vertically on it, but the springs were still intact, so was the trigger mechanism, which was all Marcus wanted. Looking at the rest, most were well past the effort of repair. Most were stripped off their vital parts, but there were still enough left for Marcus to fill out what he needed. Given the already filled little boxes with small parts stacked on the side, Stoner didn¡¯t look to be hurting on parts to care. Marcus separated the small parts into little plastic bags. AK, and AR trigger assemblies were much easier for him to work on, given his previous experience with them. For other rifles, Marcus simply sent them to the bandsaw and cut the receiver and only taking triggers entirely.
Attention!
Through multiple actions, you are qualified to receive: Gunsmithing (Skill) Increases reliability, accuracy, and familiarity gain when repairing, modifying, and building guns. Slots available: 3/6 Would you like to take the skill? [Y/N]
Increases reliability, accuracy, and familiarity gain when repairing, modifying, and building guns. With pistols, rifles, and negotiations taking up three slots, Marcus had three more slots available. Gunsmithing looked to be a wonderful skill to have, but wasn¡¯t fitting for a player like Marcus. It would be better for Bo, him being a support type. He would likely benefit the most from it if he still had the slots. With his haul of cut receivers, trigger packs and all the springs he could pull out of the guns, Marcus weighed everything on the scale with Stoner. He looked at the parts and shrugged, not even bothered. ¡°If you have a friend who¡¯s into gunsmithing and needs someone to teach him, I wouldn¡¯t mind getting help around the shop.¡± He said. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯ll let him know. But no promises since he also has stuff going on.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°No problem.¡± Charged shy of 2000c, Marcus was the proud owner of two kilograms worth of assorted parts. He paused. In the general store, he remembered the payment had gone through using Columbus¡¯ chit, which only meant that the limitations of his PMs did not affect it. Also, with it, he could see the price of the materials he was being charged with. ¡°Hey Stoner, I need you to do me a favor. I can¡¯t contact Columbus from where he is right now, but he could approve purchases made on his chit. I need you to price these bolts according to what I need.¡± Stoner nodded. Marcus laid out bolts and screws across the table and priced them accordingly and charged them through Columbus¡¯ chit; 3, 1, 14, 20, 6, 9, 12, 12, 12, 9, 19, 20, 14, 5, 5, 4, 3, 15, 14, 20, 18, 15, 12, 12, 5, 18, 19, 13, 9, 7, 8, 20, 14, 5, 5, 4, 20, 15, 6, 9, 14, 4, 9, 20, 13, 25, 19, 5, 12, 6. It translated using the alphabet arranged accordingly to; ¡°Can¡¯t fill list, need controllers, might need to find it myself.¡± Marcus waited, hoping that Columbus would understand the simple code, and was relieved as he started receiving money transfers back. It corresponded to the 26 letters code. After pulling them together, Marcus got his orders. He then packed the parts into his pack, thanked Stoner and went for the bar. There were two bars on the ship, one on the lower level, and one in the upper in the middle of the market. The lower bar was where Marcus had to go, The Smoking barrels. The sign in front showed the six barrels of a minigun, all smoking as it pointed into the sky over a mountain of spent casings. The shouts and sounds of conversation leaked out into the halls. Players talked about their adventures and fights outside with each other, boasting about their loot and kills. Marcus stepped inside and sat by the stool on the bar. The bartender looked at him, nodding while he polished a crystal in his hands with a rag. ¡°Name your poison.¡± ¡°Whiskey. Straight. The one you keep in the oak barrels.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t use wooden barrels anymore, boss.¡± ¡°Really? A friend told me you do. Give me what you have then, on the rocks.¡± The bartender nodded and laid a lowball on the bar. He then filled it with large chunks of ice and poured the whiskey bottle he took off the shelf. ¡°My own personal batch. What do you think?¡± Marcus took a sip. The hard liquor travelled down his throat and settled on his stomach like a warm glow. ¡°Ambrosia.¡± He sighed. The exchange finished, the bartender excused himself to the back. Marcus waited, continuing to sip at his drink. He had followed every step and mentioned all the required words. If all went well, he¡¯ll have access to the same broker Columbus used when preparing for their expedition. The bartender came back holding a sat phone, ¡°It¡¯s for you.¡± He said, laying it on the bar. Marcus sipped his drink and picked up the phone. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°How may I help you?¡± a garbled electronic voice on the other end asked. ¡°I need a dozen industrial rated controllers. Can you help me?¡± ¡°I can help everyone, for a price.¡± The voice said, followed by the bartender putting a reader in the bar. Marcus fished out Columbus¡¯ chit from his vest and swiped it. He watched at the pending notification shown on the display. It read 30,000c and Marcus almost choked on his drink as he saw the price. ¡°You will have you dozen controllers by tomorrow. Come back to this location exactly 12 noon.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°We don¡¯t fail.¡± The voice said. ¡°You¡¯ll have it then.¡± Marcus nodded and finished his drink. He left the bar shortly and went up to the higher levels. With his list completed and only awaiting pickup, Marcus exited the elevators to the bustling upper market. He followed the scent of burning meat. Now, it¡¯s time for the next order on the list. The old lady looked up as Marcus approached and gave a friendly smile. ¡°Its been a while, young man.¡± She greeted. ¡°Glad to see you back.¡± ¡°Glad to be back,¡± Marcus replied, taking a stool to the side. ¡°Give my usual.¡± ¡°Coming up.¡± ¡°Actually, can you brew a tea for me? I found this where I went and thought I¡¯d share it with you.¡± Marcus said, taking out the wrapped package Bo handed to him before he set out of the station. It was the same tea the Goblins chief served in his dwelling. With the buffs, Marcus was sure it would attract the attention of players looking for any edge they could get over the other. The old lady looked at the packet and took a sniff. With a quizzical gaze, she warmed up a kettle and measured the brown powdered mushrooms into a cloth bag using a spoon. ¡°I have to say, I never heard about mushroom tea.¡± She said, putting the cloth bag into the kettle of boiling water and let it settle. ¡°I think It¡¯s pretty good.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can always have more selection in your drink department.¡± ¡°Oh? Is this what I think it is then, young man?¡± She asked, pouring the kettle into a couple of cups. Marcus took his cup while she sipped on hers and gave an approving hum.
Attention!
Mushroom tea (excellent) Brewed from the goblin¡¯s prized mushroom tea, it''s grown deep within their most productive tunnels using techniques and processes that are closely guarded. .8x stamina consumption rate (240 mins)
¡°Unique isn¡¯t it? It has that aftertaste that might put people off, but could easily be developed into an acquired taste.¡± Marcus said. She took another sip. ¡°Depends. Men here usually prefer beer to drink instead, but this could be a pick me up for people looking for something milder than coffee. Though a bit bitter for my taste, its nothing that could be fixed with a drop of sugar.¡± The meat finished cooking, and the old lady served Marcus his well-deserved meal. After a few days of eating dry and crumbly rations, it only made him yearn for the juicy meat even more. Marcus finished his meal in no time and the old lady started wrapping the tea packet to hand it back. ¡°No, keep it.¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°First taste is free. Make sure to share it around.¡± She looked back at the packet and gingerly laid it back on the table. She grinned back, ¡°Whenever I hear first taste is free, it comes from dealers pushing drugs.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe it¡¯s just as addictive as any other drug.¡± Marcus replied, smiling. He then stood up to leave and made to pay only for the old lady to wave it off. ¡°I¡¯ll have more of these in one or two days.¡± ¡°Expect 2000c easily.¡± She replied, which surprised Marcus. It seemed like he had found his cash crop. ¡°Give me two days to get a feel for the demand of your tea. I¡¯ll give you a more accurate price then.¡± ¡°Be seeing you then.¡± Marcus replied. CH 24: Crew Marcus walked away from the stall with high spirits. 2000c per kilo at the minimum, they were looking at 500c profit after the cost of scrounging up enough ammo for a kilo of the stuff and transporting it to the ship. They would have to trade for bulk if they are to see a considerable profit from the trade, or simply find ways of lowering their expenses further. Marcus was thinking up on ways when he got a PM from Ylenka.
Ylenka: Hey. I heard you¡¯re back on the ship. Go to the smoking barrels. The first drink is on me. Hartdegen: Sure. I¡¯ll be there in five.
Marcus headed for the elevator, weaving through the crowd when he noticed a group following him. He wouldn¡¯t have noticed if not for Ylenka¡¯s message, making him stop to reply. Marcus stopping suddenly made them pause in their step and turn to the nearby stalls to make them look as if they were naturally browsing, but it was enough to make him notice. There were five of them, scattered along the market and was closing in. Their identical patterned camouflage jackets that made is easier for identifying friends from foe made it a dead giveaway for Marcus to recognize them in a group. Still, he was in no danger. The ship is a safe area, and he was curious why they were tailing him. He reached the elevator first. The door started closing only for it to be opened back up by one in the group. The rest followed, and Marcus stood by the side. He kept the wall on his back as the group crowded the elevator. Looking at the group, Marcus couldn¡¯t help but be impressed. Each person in their group fitted a dedicated role for an effective squad. Their DMR was armed with a tricked out M14 with the EBR chassis with a bipod attachment and a high-powered scope. A couple of M4a1s both fitted with holographic sights, one fitted with a 3x magnifier and a finicky bipod foregrip, likely for their assaulter, while the other sported an underbarrel M240 grenade launcher for their grenadier, a M16a4 fitted with a 4x ACOG scope for their medic and an M249 with a magnified prism scope mounted on its top cover. It was a solid composition. Except for their DMR, the rest could share ammo between them. The group could lay down an effective ambush using their machineguns and rifle fire. The DMR could pick off individual targets while the grenade launcher could take out enemies hiding behind cover. If their synergy on their weapon selection was any close to their teamwork, then they would be a pain to fight on the field. ¡°Nice guns.¡± Marcus said. ¡°Thanks.¡± One of them answered. He carried the M4a1 with the underbarrel grenade launcher and Marcus pegged him as their leader. ¡°You guys were following me.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± He replied.
Name: Hoplite? Race: Human Player ID: 499737849546
Level: 23
¡°Were here to tell you to stay away from Columbus. If you have a shared quest with him, then leave it be and fail it. If not, then we will put a bounty on your head and kill you on sight.¡± ¡°Should you at least buy me a drink first before threatening me?¡± Marcus replied in a flat tone. Even though he wouldn¡¯t have a good chance of winning with a fight with the group, he knew he could get away from them easily. He could, of course, leave Columbus out to dry. But since he had taken the pay, he needed to see it all through. ¡°Let me ask you one thing. Will you do the same? Leave one of your boys hanging because some guys tell you to or else?¡± Hoplite paused, sending a glance to the side. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then you got your answer.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t either.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a shame.¡± He muttered. But since the elevator was still descending to the lower level, all of them fell into an awkward silence. Curious, Marcus asked, ¡°Is this personal for you? Because It¡¯s all business for me.¡± ¡°I see. That explains how he got you, but you should know that he¡¯s got a reputation among the higher leveled players. There¡¯s a reason he runs alone.¡± Hoplite answered, ¡°As for your question, yes. It¡¯s personal for all of us.¡± ¡°Thanks. But as long as I get paid, I¡¯ll still be on his side.¡± Marcus said as the elevator arrived and the doors opened. ¡°See you out there.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t.¡± He smirked. Marcus nodded, making his way out and leaving the group as they stayed behind. It would complicate things.
Attention!
Friend request received from player: Hoplite Player ID: 499737849546 Accept? [Y/N]
He looked behind him to catch Hoplite give him a salute as the elevator doors closed and came back up. Knowing that they won¡¯t be able to track him with being on a friends¡¯ list, Marcus accepted. Still, having a warning was a godsend. Marcus didn¡¯t see the group to be the one to give empty threats, nor do they look unable to follow up on it. Walking away, Marcus knew he needed his own crew. The problem was finding a competent group that will run with him and be dependable. Rex and Anna were first to mind, but he couldn¡¯t just call them to fight while outnumbered and outgunned. Marcus sighed. It looked like he would have to keep his head down for a while and move silently about while traversing the city. The things they said were enough to make Marcus think. Even though Marcus feeling that he owed Columbus, he was quick to buddy up with the Goblin chief. Making Marcus only an afterthought and made a gopher to finish up his quest for him, giving Hoplite¡¯s insinuations some merit. It was a good thing Marcus started making his own moves back then, as it would cushion him from the effects if Columbus decides to drop him. ¡°Hey Hart!¡± Ylenka yelled as Marcus entered the Smoking barrels. Following the yell, He found her sitting alone on a small circular table in the corner facing the door. She wore the same field gray coveralls noobs wore around the ship. Whether it was to blend in, Marcus didn¡¯t know. Looking around her, she doesn¡¯t seem to be bothered by the attention being sent her way as Marcus waved back in her direction. Players looked his way with narrowed eyes and Marcus wondered what kind of situation he found himself in now. Sighing, Marcus approached the table, weaving between the chairs and tables scattered about sitting the other players populating the bar. Marcus arrived at the table and pulled up a seat. Ylenka looked up at Marcus with a sly grin and pointed over to the tall glass of water waiting on his side of the table. ¡°Here¡¯s your drink,¡± she said, grinning. ¡°It¡¯s water.¡± Marcus said, taking a seat. ¡°I know.¡± She said, laughing. ¡°It¡¯s on me.¡± Marcus grunted and drank the glass of water. ¡°So what¡¯s the real reason you called me here?¡± he asked. ¡°I hope I didn¡¯t make you go broke with that bet we made.¡± Ylenka smiled, ¡°I called you here,¡± pausing and leaning forward towards the table. ¡°Because I want to know what I had been missing after losing to you in that match.¡± Marcus smiled, leaning back in his chair. ¡°You know I can¡¯t tell you that. If you really want to know it that bad, you can just ask the man himself.¡± ¡°Pretty hard to do since I can¡¯t reach him.¡± She said, leaning back too in a relaxed pause, ¡°Since he¡¯s still online, that meant that he¡¯s in some place that can¡¯t be easily accessed. That means dungeons, or facilities. But with you here, means that its something else.¡± Marcus said nothing. Pleading the fifth, he only went for a simple shrug. She smiled. ¡°Not going to tell?¡± Marcus traced my fingers on my lips as if it was a zipper. ¡°Not at all.¡± ¡°Even if I offer another million credits?¡± ¡°Now that¡¯s just insulting.¡± Marcus sighed, getting off his seat. ¡°I might be paid by the hour, but I¡¯m no snitch and no turncoat either. If you¡¯re just going to waste my time with this bullshit, I need to be someplace else.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°Okay. Okay.¡± Ylenka replied, waving him down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m just curious, you know? You have to give me that, right?¡± Marcus sighed, sitting back down. ¡°Last chance.¡± ¡°Okay. Let me order you a drink.¡± ¡°Beer.¡± ¡°You still remember my your part in our bet?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll teach you to get to the top.¡± She nodded. ¡°Same deal. I¡¯ll pay you for it.¡± Marcus watched the woman sitting in front of him. Surely it can¡¯t be that straightforward. Still, this could be an opportunity for him. ¡°I don¡¯t need money right now.¡± Marcus replied. His new business venture with Bo might need an upfront capital, but he could pull some from his unconverted credits. What he needed is something that will be hard to buy with credits. ¡°You can pay me with a favor that I can call in later.¡± Marcus said, sipping his beer. ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°I¡¯m free for the rest of the day. We could start after this. And feel free to call in the rest of your boys.¡± ¡°You want to include them?¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°Why not? I¡¯ll just be instructing you on what to do. All the heavy lifting will be on your side from all the boring repetition until it comes as easy as breathing. I¡¯ll just be there to correct any issues I find.¡± ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll call them up.¡± Ylenka¡¯s team lined up in Stoner¡¯s range. No shots rang out. Instead, was the sound of hammers hitting empty chambers and metal falling. They were practicing the coin drill and were failing. Previously, Marcus had demonstrated the drill by laying a washer on the end of his suppressor and balanced it. Hoping that he won¡¯t fail and embarrass himself, he pulled the trigger. With a steady pressure pressed against the trigger, the sear broke and the hammer fell into an empty chamber. The rifle clicked, and the washer jumped in place, but didn¡¯t fall. He then explained the utility of the drill. Even though the sights have been lined up perfectly, just enough movement from a finger putting more force than necessary on a trigger was enough to shift the aim just enough to miss. At close range, the effect was not as pronounced, but it was not an excuse to ignore it entirely. It was called a foundation. It should be the first thing to be built up, and the stronger it is, the better. Marcus took another drag from his cigarette as he watched Ylenka mess her trigger pull once more and drop the washer. She kept messing despite close attention and instructions given to her. Marcus picked it off the table and balanced and balanced it on the end of her rifle. A HK G36C she had changed from the AKS-74U Marcus first saw her with. It was missing the top rail spanning most of the rifle and was fitted with a red dot sight sitting atop a riser and short fore grip and light, following Marcus¡¯ advice on the priority of attachments to put in a rifle. Panning his gaze over the rest, with varying results. ¡°Hey Ylenka, what Dex are you at?¡± He asked. Ylenka was the lowest leveled player in their group, which also meant she had the lowest stats. ¡°Four. Why?¡± ¡®That doesn¡¯t seem right,¡¯ Marcus frowned. He had the same points in Dexterity, but Ylenka was still failing miserably. ¡°What about the sniper guy?¡± he asked, failing to remember his name. ¡°Hey Roland, tell me your Dex.¡± She shouted over. ¡°Twelve, why?¡± ¡°Oh, I see.¡± Ylenka nodded. ¡°You think that has something to do with it?¡± ¡°Probably,¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem to work on me though.¡± ¡°Must be another hidden mechanic. At least we found one.¡± ¡°We think we found one. At least that¡¯s were testing out.¡± Marcus said, then stood up to turn to the rest of the group. He whistled for a pause and waited as everyone settled to face him. ¡°Alright. First thing, good job for all of you. You guys have been doing great so far. I think we should try shooting live ammo for a while to see if it works.¡± ¡°What? You mean you made us do all of that and didn¡¯t even know if it worked?¡± Someone asked from the group. Marcus didn¡¯t catch who it is but answered anyway. ¡°That¡¯s right. There¡¯s a reason I had you guys record your shots so we could get a before and after. Scientific like. Can¡¯t really make myself the benchmark, so I needed some controlled data to compare from.¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°If works, then you can expect that the information will not leak into the paid forums, at least not from us.¡± Ylenka said. ¡°Nah. It¡¯s all good if you do, just make sure to give me my cut.¡± Marcus replied. If not already well known, the information would fetch a pretty penny in the private forums as they are sold per view. Still, getting established in the forums as a trusted source would need a long time and effort, which Marcus couldn¡¯t afford. Giving someone else the information would be better, as long as he gets his cut on the profits. Everyone in the team gathered and lined up in front of their targets. Marcus nodded as they practiced proper muzzle discipline. They were doing it instinctively, pointing their muzzles at the ceiling or on the ground whenever their teammates walked in front of them and took their position. Marcus took another drag as everyone raised their weapons and fired at their targets. They all carried with them HK weapons with two G36C, a G36 with an underbarrel grenade launcher, an MP5 and two G3s. But with a practiced eye, Marcus recognized Roland¡¯s rifle as an MSG90, the accurized version of the HK G3. The extended barrel nut and the reinforcements on the receiver were a dead giveaway. That, along with the integrated bipod and the high-powered scope, he should be able to make shots within a kilometer with ease. Watching the team perform before, Marcus observed their solid relationship with each other. He guessed they were all coworkers, with Ylenka being their boss by the way they treated her, compared with the others. They were cordial with her and with an underlying control and difference against her relaxed posture. They were professional, respectful, and eager to learn. Their enthusiasm made up for Marcus'' inexperience. They listened and held on to every word he said as if it was gospel. They might give him lip from time to time, but that was all. They had seen his placement in the top rankings, now nearing the weekly reset, and it had given him immediate standing between all of them. The room filled with the cacophony of half a dozen rifles firing at the same time. It then staggered as each shooter took to their own comfortable pace on making their best shot and tightest groups. Marcus took another drag as he watched the displays showed better precision than before. With just a single drill, Marcus tightened their shot groups. With ten shot groups finished, everyone looked at the results and shared a collective smile. A couple was already reloading their rifles to take shots at the targets as to make sure it was not a fluke, but Marcus knew it wasn¡¯t. ¡°Thanks. We owe you now.¡± Ylenka said. ¡°Keep practicing. Adding stats might help you with your problem, but you¡¯re still the one making the shot, not your character.¡± Marcus said and turned away.
Attention!
After meeting the hidden requirements, you unlocked the job: Mercenary. All skill restrictions lifted Ability to write contracts Unable to join any faction + fame and relation for every contract accomplished - fame and relation for every contract failed or abandoned Accept? [Y/N]
Marcus read the description and chose yes. It was perfect for him. Unlike other jobs that give bonus stats or effects to specific tools or weapons, the job of mercenary allowed him the highest flexibility with the exclusive skill of being able to write up contracts when working with somebody. It meant that he won¡¯t be tied up to someone else¡¯s success, but only for the completion of the contract itself. With a grin, he read another notification popping on his screen.
Attention!
Congratulations Take skill: Instruction? Increases the learning speed of NPCs under your tutelage. Speed depends on the current level of skills being taught and level of instruction skill. Skill slots available: 3 Accept? [Y/N]
Increases the learning speed of NPCs under your tutelage. Speed depends on the current level of skills being taught and level of instruction skill. Marcus paused as he read the notification. Teaching NPCs, the next step would only mean that he could recruit them. Maybe with a contract? Marcus asked himself, grinning. Maybe, but there¡¯s only one way to find out; do it himself. And he had the perfect place in mind to test the limits of his specialization. If there were other players with the same job as him, they were keeping it close to heart. He tried looking, but other than the normal specializations, there was nothing else posted in the paid forums. It was after he discovered Columbus with his unique job that he tried scouring the forums, looking for ways to get himself a unique job, but found nothing. Only information regarding normal jobs was available, which didn¡¯t bring any interest to him. Marcus walked back to the tables and picked up his rifle. He checked the magazine to make sure it was loaded and went to an empty lane to practice. His mind came back to the group threatening him. He could, of course, call in his favor from Ylenka to help him take care of it, but doing it this early would only be a waste. It would be better if he try to figure out a way through his predicament by himself. Pushing the thought aside, Marcus continued on to focus on his practice. He fell into his zen state as all that matters was his movements. Deliberately, he slowed his movements to make sure he did everything correctly, to which he continued to increase his pace until his actions sunk deeper into muscle memory. The leaderboards were also approaching its weekly reset and what better way to advertise his name than keep it on the top of the list. To make sure to anyone doubting that his placement was not a fluke. Still, with the board resetting this midnight, he didn¡¯t have time to place his name on the top as he needed to prepare for transporting the goods he bought for the station. He then stopped and looked around to notice that everyone else had filled out of the range, save for the lone sound of metal clinking against metal. He looked over in the direction to find Ylenka practicing her pulls alone. ¡°Maybe you should take a break.¡± Marcus called as he approached the table, ¡°The thing about repetitive action is that you could also get bad habits dialed in along with good ones.¡± Ylenka looked up at him and sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right. Maybe I should.¡± ¡°You mind me asking why you¡¯re trying this hard?¡± Marcus asked, pulling a folding chair out and sat with the back rest between his legs. ¡°Depends if you tell me how you got this good?¡± Ylenka replied, leaning back in her seat, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Marcus chuckled. ¡°I was never that good.¡± ¡°Is that you trying to be modest or being honest?¡± ¡°Just being realistic.¡± ¡°I think you need to adjust your expectations. What you think, as the average shooter back in your time, is extremely different now. To us, you are an expert despite what you think of yourself.¡± ¡°Smart girl.¡± Marcus smiled, ¡°Since when did you know?¡± ¡°Since now, you just confirmed it.¡± She smiled back. ¡°Hartdegen, the time traveler. There was a running theory in our group, you having a direct experience was one of it.¡± ¡°Is that going to be a problem?¡± ¡°The opposite, actually. I¡¯m a curator of in a museum and would appreciate if you take the time to visit our collection.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see. I¡¯m kind of busy at the moment.¡± Marcus replied. Still, visiting a museum doesn¡¯t look too bad as something to do in his free time. ¡°Okay. Maybe we should continue this some other time then. I need to log out anyway. Bye.¡± ¡°Yeah, bye. Also, I won¡¯t be here tomorrow. Just like I said, all you and your boys need to do is keep practicing and raising your dexterity until you could pull your trigger without jerking them. After that, we can talk more with ways of shooting faster and farther.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see what we can do.¡± She said, leaving. Marcus watched her cross the range as he stayed behind. He then pulled up his PKM and fiddled around with it. One downside of not using the game¡¯s Combat assistance system was that he had to know the manual of arms of guns. He was lucky that Kalashnikov built the PKM with the thought of minimally trained conscripts using it in battle. If he was to gift the weapon to the chief, he would have to teach how to use the weapon along with maintaining it. Running through the instructions given by Stoner, Marcus popped the top cover off and to inspect the feed tray, he then lifted it to confirm an empty chamber and laid the belt on top. Lining it, he closed the cover and racked the charging handle. Now, the machinegun was loaded and ready to go. Marcus repeated the motions again and again. Deliberate and slow, he steadily hammered the motions into his memory until he could finish reloading the machinegun while putting the bare amount of attention to doing it. Tomorrow, he would have to take merchandise worth a hundred thousand credits through dangerous territory and make sure that it arrives at its destination. That, along with the threat of a well-armed group gunning for him all for some personal beef they have with his employer, that he would rather do without. Marcus sighed. He isn¡¯t getting paid enough for this. CH 25: The Rat
Congratulations!
Explosive skill leveled up to 4!
With a smoke trailing from a cigarette dangling off his lip, Marcus twisted the wires around the end of a blasting cap. He had been grinding skills he thought were useful, one of which was Explosives. It was a skill reserved for the demolition and grenadier jobs but with Marcus¡¯s unique Mercenary specialization, all job restricted skills opened to him. ¡°Are you Hartdegen?¡± a voice called to which Marcus looked up. If there was a poster with an operator front and center. The man standing before him would fit right in. He had a binocular night vision goggles folded up on a ¡®bump¡¯ helmet with an electronic headset connected to a radio. His vest bulged with stacked magazines, grenades, a knife and other utilities. From the shape of his vest, Marcus guessed that the man wore interceptor plates underneath as a last line of defense when the shields dangling off his belt fails. An M110 lay cradled in his hand, topped with a suppressor, bipod, and a high-powered scope. A Glock hung from his leg holster, also fitted with a red dot sight. The man intrigued him. Compared to Marcus, he was the opposite, with his table cluttered with scrap electronics and loose stripped wires. ¡°Still is. Last I checked.¡± Marcus replied, blowing a cloud of smoke to the side. ¡°What can I help you with?¡±
Name: Demented Race: Human Player ID: 710010809715
Level: 29
¡°You¡¯re a hard man to find. We would like to invite you to be a part of our clan, SRT. With your skills, we can see you rise in our ranks quickly. In exchange, we can provide you with gear, quests, men and rep.¡± Marcus hummed, daisy chaining another blasting cap with another strand of wire. ¡°So why do you want me?¡± ¡°I think the reason is already apparent.¡± ¡°Is it because of my handsome looks?¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°No, it¡¯s because of your previous placement in the leaderboards.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, I remember now. You were there.¡± Marcus said as soon as the name registered. He was the top three CQC in the pistol category until Marcus came along to bump him off his spot. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not mad getting bumped off third place.¡± ¡°A bit. But became more curious about the new player.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll,¡± Marcus said, spreading his arms. ¡°Here I am.¡± ¡°So, will you consider our offer?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll consider it. But it¡¯s faster if you¡¯d just straight up hire me. No strings attached and I can leave anytime prior to a week of notice.¡± ¡°Hire you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a mercenary. It¡¯s a job, and a play style. I¡¯ll pass you my rate.¡± Demented looked at the price and blanched. From working with Columbus, Marcus learned his lesson and so tied up his rate with his current level. A flat rate of 250,000c for the first two days, 30,000c more than his previous one, and 30,000c credits per hour after that. ¡°It¡¯s a bit steep. No one will take you up on that!¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised.¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°Price is always negotiable depending on work, but I¡¯ll never go lower than that.¡± Demented shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not up to me. But I¡¯ll pass it up the chain.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t take too long.¡± Marcus watched Demented step out of the armory before closing the circuit. The blasting caps detonated with a sharp crack, followed by a small experience gain in Marcus¡¯ explosive skill. Compared to the rate he was gaining in the first three levels of the skill, progress slowed down significantly. He now had to find other ways than just stringing detonators and blasting caps together. Unlike the last time he set out, it was Marcus¡¯ job included preparing everything himself. So after spending a few more boxes of ammo in the range practicing his drills, Marcus browsed through the black market and started buying up frag grenades, flashbangs and smokes. He had just unlocked the ability to plant Claymores safely with his Explosive skill so he bought a couple too, just in case. Stolen novel; please report. For meds, he visited the Medical center and bought up stims for the journey. He then booked a trip with Ripley and Adept inside their APC. Everything added to his plan of being like a porcupine, more trouble dealing with the pricks than worth the meat underneath. All the while, moving and doing its business while everyone else is asleep. Earlier in the day, he had already taken the controllers from the Smoking Barrels. The exchange was simple. After sitting on the bar, an NPC went by him and dropped off the controllers in a paper bag. He checked it, and just like the voice on the phone saying that they never fail, all the controllers were there. As for the rest of the materials, Marcus took them from the general store, then stashed the pallet in Stoner¡¯s armory. The cranky old gunsmith was not happy about it, but after some pleading and convincing, Marcus was allowed to keep it there until the end of the day, which was fine. Cleaning up the blasted pieces of metal and lengths of wires, Marcus checked the clock. It was time. It was late, both in game and in real life. There were fewer players moving about on the ship, turning in for the night for work or school for the next Monday morning. Marcus took the hand truck carrying the pallet out of the armory and towards the vehicle bay where the M113 awaited. He had to pay Ripley and Adept an extra for the delivery they had their classes tomorrow, but later in the afternoon. Marcus didn¡¯t enjoy keeping them this late into the night, but he had to, and so was more than willing to pay double for the initial asking price. The threat was still fresh in his mind as he employed the rat strat of completing his quest while everyone else was logged out or on their bed, sleeping. Marcus loaded the crate inside. He sat in the compartment, looking out at the hangar as the door swung closed. ¡°Just to make this clear,¡± Ripley said through the internal comms, ¡°You want us to go to this location to drop off your cargo. You know this looks awfully look like an ambush to us, right?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a quest.¡± Marcus replied, pulling up his screen and redacting it like Columbus did with him on their first meeting. ¡°Just get it here and let me drop it off,¡± ¡°Okay. We got it.¡± Ripley replied after checking the authenticity of the quest. The APC jerked forward, and they were off. ¡°Just so you know, we¡¯ll be shooting anything we find in that location.¡± ¡°Feel free. I¡¯ll even pay for the bullets.¡± The trip towards the location took around an hour. In a straight line, the trip would barely take five minutes, but the congested city streets filled with rubble and abandoned cars forced the APC through multiple detours and tight fits through side streets and alleys. In the end, they arrived in one piece at the coordinates. Through the hatch, Marcus peeked his head out of the back and scanned the area with his thermal scope. Save for the nocturnal creatures wandering in the night''s darkness, it was all clear. ¡°Wait here.¡± Marcus ordered through the radio. ¡°If I¡¯m not back within ten minutes, go back with the package.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Ripley replied. The APC¡¯s engine cut off, a contrast against the ensuing silence of the city. Save for the sound of wind blowing around the buildings. The night was growing cold as Marcus crawled out of the hatch and jumped from the top. His boots crunched against the broken glass scattered on the sidewalk. He then shone his light inside the same clothing store he came out after exiting the goblin controlled station. Marcus made as much noise as he could, tracing his steps back deeper into the store and openly shone his light to illuminate his path. Down in the basement, Marcus caught movement in the corner of his eye. A shadow peeked around the overhead heating pipes and he raised his hand to signal the hidden goblin to stop and standby. Seeing no reaction, he repeated the same command. ¡°This means you stop and standby you fucking idiot.¡± Marcus shouted at the hidden goblin. ¡°If you shoot me with that shitty shotgun, I¡¯m going to shove it so far up your ass and blow your brains out!¡±
Congratulations!
Would you like to take the skill: Authority? Your power to command members within your organization. Reduces the chance of orders being ignored by your subordinate NPC. Higher levels increase the number of NPC under your command (Max: 2) Exceeding the limit increases the chances of negative outcomes ranging from ignored orders, missing equipment, insubordination and even mutiny, among many others. Skill slots available: 1 Accept? [Y/N]
He accepted the skill just as chittering sounded after Marcus¡¯s sudden outburst. He then looked at the hidden goblin, who gingerly crawled from the top of the pipes and dropped to the floor. More goblins started coming out of the small nooks and hidden alcoves and lined up in front of Marcus. They were the same group he had taught before he left the station and obediently waited for orders the moment they realized who he was. ¡°Follow me.¡± Marcus ordered, repeating it with a hand gesture, and stepped back up to the ground floor. The APC was still there, waiting with the periscope turrets swinging from side to side as both women diligently kept an eye out, still watching for an ambush. ¡°Ripley. I have friendlies coming in. Don¡¯t shoot us.¡± Marcus said through the radio and causing both turrets to swing his way. ¡°Okay. We see you.¡± Ripley replied. ¡°They¡¯re friendly. Don¡¯t shoot them!¡± Marcus said, waving the goblins to come outside. The moment they stepped into the light, the second periscope swung their way and he wondered for a second if they would even open the hatch for him to get his package. ¡°They¡¯re friendly?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, they¡¯re just here to take the package.¡± Marcus replied, thinking maybe he should have pushed the pallet out first and simply let the APC leave before calling the goblins out. ¡°Alright. Were trusting you on this.¡± Ripley said, followed by the powered whining of the pneumatic door. With the help of the goblins, Marcus pushed the pallet to the sidewalk. Even barefoot, the Goblins seemed to be unaffected by the glass scattered atop the concrete. ¡°Alright. Were good.¡± Marcus said through the radio as the goblins started unpacking the pallets. ¡°Call us again if you need something delivered.¡± ¡°I will.¡± ¡°Good luck.¡± Ripley replied as the APC started backing out and turned in place. It then gunned the rest of the way through the streets and bumped at the corner of a car stalled out in the middle of the street, pushing it away like it was nothing. ¡°Carry all of them inside.¡± Marcus ordered while he kept an eye out. CH 26: Presentation Marcus crawled through the tunnels, making his way towards the entrance to the station. His pack, filled with weapon parts, was being carried by a goblin ahead of him while he carried the PKM on his back. He had recently cleaned it and freshly oiled, along with a thousand rounds of 7.62x54mmR packed in a crate and 400 rounds of belted ammunition. Being sent out as the gopher still irked at him. The waiting paycheck at the end of the quest alleviated the feeling somewhat, but the job itself felt demeaning. Was it just him? Marcus wondered as he dropped from the hole in the wall and finally felt his feet touch ground. They passed through multiple checkpoints manned by goblins that were armed with a variety of makeshift weapons, sometimes not even armed at all. The further they went, the brighter it got and soon the dark gave way to the combination of weak electric and firelight in the distance. They passed an open bulkhead serving as the main entrance of the station. A spider turret also guarded this entrance, currently recessed in its nook with other goblins positioned behind sandbags and bunkers. Marcus could already see an excellent position for the chief to put his upcoming gift. A runner sent ahead of the group forewarned their arrival and an entourage led by the Tiul, the Goblin chief, greeted at the entrance. The Chief¡¯s bodyguards were among them along with Bo. Columbus had logged out an hour prior, but not before being informed that the shipment arrive tonight. Marcus didn¡¯t get a response, but was instead given half of his pay in advance with him to expect the rest after Columbus would confirm the quest¡¯s completion. ¡°You have it. Yes?¡± the goblin chief said as they exchanged greetings. ¡°Everything on the list.¡± Marcus nodded. Bo was already busy cataloguing the materials and made sure that none was ¡®dropped¡¯ on the way. Knowing the goblin¡¯s propensity for things to go missing, Marcus made sure that it never happened. ¡°I also have a gift for you.¡± Marcus continued, unslinging the PKM and offered it to the chief. ¡°It¡¯s a general purpose machinegun shooting 7.62x54mmR. Powerful and designed for long range and lasting engagements. It would be perfect for your personal troops or set up at a checkpoint. I also brought some ammo for it.¡± The goblin chief took the weapon off his hands and looked over it. The long weapon was comically large compared to the chief¡¯s size, but he held it in his hands with little effort. ¡°Is good gift.¡± He said, smiling and revealing rows of sharp teeth that, if Marcus didn¡¯t know better, would look like a threat rather than a friendly gesture.
Attention!
Your relation level with Tiul had increased to: Friendly
Marcus caught Bo look up from referencing the list against the growing pile of parts and materials. Bo gave a quick nod, which meant that everything had proceeded as planned on their end and it¡¯s his turn to present the chief with their offer. ¡°I also have something we might want to discus. Something that will benefit your station.¡± ¡°Come, then.¡± Tiul nodded and passed the PKM with one hand to one of his bodyguards. They followed a few steps behind but didn¡¯t stop Marcus from walking alongside the Chief. The Chief led them through the bustling market, the station¡¯s residential area and into his personal abode. Tiul took back the PKM from his guards and laid it on the wall behind him as he sat on his cushioned seats while Marcus took his spot near him. Tea was ordered, and his bodyguards left the room to let the two of them talk privately. ¡°How is surface?¡± Tiul opened up as to break the ice. Marcus would have preferred to get into business, but he had heard that some cultures prefer to start off a round of small talk. He guessed it was the latter here and so decided to simply get it out of the way. ¡°A bit hot and sunny. Other than drying off, I prefer the cool damp of the tunnels, mostly.¡± He replied. The chief smiled at that, and the two continued exchanging small talk. The tea arrived, and the Chief served them both. Marcus sipped at the bitter drink and the two settled in silence until the Chief broke it by smacking his lips. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°Tell me what you want.¡± He said. Marcus nodded and set his cup. ¡°I noticed your gunsmiths need reliable gun parts. I thought I should help with that, so I went ahead and found some for them.¡± Marcus started and reached for his bag. He pulled out trigger sets and springs as proof. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t want to offend you by doing business with your station without your blessing and so I¡¯m here to tell you about it first before going ahead.¡± The chief said nothing as he took an AK trigger pack and fiddled with it. ¡°Why not guns?¡± He asked. ¡®Because I don¡¯t know if you can afford it,¡¯ Marcus thought. ¡°I thought we¡¯d start this business relationship small first before jumping into larger projects. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve already showed that I can get you what you need.¡± ¡®For a price,¡¯ ¡°What trade for?¡± ¡°I was thinking tea.¡± Marcus replied, sipping his cup for emphasis. ¡°It¡¯s pretty good. You can, of course, suggest things we can trade for guns, and maybe even explosives.¡± Marcus said, dangling the prospect of giving access to more weapons. If there would be something that is the same with warlords, they like big guns and bigger weapons. ¡°One question, did you like the shotgun Columbus gifted you?¡± ¡°Is good. Fast to kill enemy. Want more.¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°I can give you one like it for a price of a kilogram of tea. A PKM for five. And everything else in between. I only need your blessing of being able to buy as much as I can.¡± The chief didn¡¯t reply immediately. Instead, he simply watched Marcus and he could almost see the little gears in the chief¡¯s head whirring into overdrive, weighing the pros and cons of such an agreement. ¡°I allow it.¡± The chief finally nodded just as Bo entered the dwelling. ¡°Everything is there.¡± He declared. ¡°We have enough supplies to last us till the next month, less if we start expanding.¡±
Quest Complete!
Supply Run The Songbird Station needs supplies, and the Chief had given Columbus and, in extension, you, the privilege of being the station¡¯s first supplier. Prove your ability by coming through with the orders. Requirements: Fill the required order and deliver it within the assigned time. (Completed) Rewards: 100,000 Exp.
Congratulations!
Level Up! Level Up! Congratulations! You have reached level 15!
¡°Good.¡± the chief said, sipping his tea. With a nod, he sent Bo away and Marcus mirrored him as he raised his own cup to his lips. He¡¯d like to get on with his tasks but doesn¡¯t know how to excuse himself. Still, he had to risk it. The chief was content on sipping his tea and Marcus finished his. ¡°I think I should be going. You know what? I think you should try out the PKM and get all your answers questioned then.¡± The chief nodded, grinning. ¡°Good idea.¡± ¡°You know, I wasn¡¯t expecting stellar safety standards, but I wasn¡¯t expecting this either.¡± Marcus muttered as he closed the PKM¡¯s top cover over the belt. He loaded it with only 20 rounds for demonstration reasons, then handed the PKM to the chief and let him rack the charging handle. Marcus looked up from the Chief to see everyone lined up to the sides, watching their leader line up a shot to a painted tile serving as the target set up on the other end of the market. The Chief then squeezed the trigger and let off a short burst. The full sized cartridge was loud in the closed confines of the station and echoed down the tunnels. The crowd flinched from the sharp noise and the Chief laughed as the target disintegrated under the fire. The rest of the goblins in the market cheered. Happy of their newly acquired weapon. The chief then raised the PKM above his head, not even bothered by its weight, and yelled. He shouted a long string of chittered words in their language, and the cheers doubled as the chief pointed over to Marcus. ¡°You know what he said?¡± Marcus asked as he leaned over to Bo. ¡°He said that you¡¯re the source of the weapon, and the source of even more. At least that¡¯s the gist of it.¡± Bo answered. ¡°Should be good then, as long as they can keep affording it.¡± Marcus said, then caught Bo shaking his head. ¡°Is there going to be a problem?¡± ¡°They¡¯re only able to keep production of two kilograms of tea per week as of now. I checked to make sure.¡± Bo replied, ¡°They could expand the farms but that brings its own problems.¡± ¡°More work means more experience.¡± Marcus replied, then looked to the side where the gunsmiths gathered, sending him looks. ¡°They don¡¯t look happy.¡± He said, nodding in their direction. Bo turned his head to follow. ¡°With what the Chief said, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re thinking you¡¯re here to get and take them out of business.¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°Not surprising. Did you finish the designs?¡± ¡°Almost, only need the finishing touches. I¡¯m having problems with calculating the tolerance between the parts.¡± Marcus chuckled. ¡°You think they¡¯re concerned with tolerances? You¡¯re just at the designing phase kid. Even if everything goes well with our little project, you¡¯d still be redrawing and fiddling with the drawings until you think you perfected it, only for more problems to pop up when you start building it. Besides, it¡¯s not like you don¡¯t have a group of gunsmiths willing to test everything out and find the bugs for you.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s not ready.¡± ¡°Let me handle the rest kid.¡± Marcus replied, patting Bo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Get the plans and get those gunsmiths gathered up so we can address their concerns all at the same time.¡± CH 27: Wheeling and Dealing After the weapon¡¯s presentation, the gathered crowd dispersed as everyone went back to their own business. Bo came back from his shop carrying the blueprints he had been working on for the past few days and handed it over to Marcus. Nodding, Marcus turned to the gathered gunsmiths that were sending him murderous glares. If looks could kill, Marcus would be a pile of ashes by then, getting swept up by the roving cleaners walking the station. The only thing stopping them from being openly violent is the Chief¡¯s support. Still, he had to be careful of needlessly making enemies, which is the reason he was doing this in the first place. ¡°Listen, everyone. Before we start, I would like to say that this is not me encroaching on your businesses. I am simply supplying the station¡¯s needs that you cannot. Now that I am here, I am sure we can find common ground which we can all benefit.¡± ¡°We not want you here.¡± A goblin shouted from within the group. ¡°Really? Do you not want this too?¡± Marcus said, pulling out his bag of springs and laid them out on the table. The gunsmiths gathered around the small pile and looked at the selection. Marcus could see greed in some and opportunity in the others. Marcus picked out the first goblin who he had talked to and made sure slip him his own little bag before the meeting, which ensured his support. ¡°Now I¡¯m not a greedy guy.¡± Marcus continued, ¡°This here is only a small portion of what I can help provide you all. I can get you parts you don¡¯t have access to, but more importantly, I can help you all in improving your crafts. Soon, we might be looking at the best gunsmiths in the city gathered around this workshop table.¡± Marcus then pulled out his trump card. The blueprint Bo had been working at refining for the past couple of days. ¡°This is a gift,¡± Marcus showed them the prints. With just a glance, all the gunsmiths were intrigued and bent over the plan and rubbed scalps with just how crowded it was. Back when Marcus was studying, he had encountered a post apocalyptic game and was mesmerized at the slapdash apocalyptic design made from plumbing parts from Metro2033. He had spent some time thinking about how to make a workable piece, if only as a mental exercise, and came up with a design that, in the end, failed. Humbled by his experience in college, Marcus had the foresight to forego any novel designs and needless complications. So he went for reliability and functionality first. The design printed resembled a love child between the Australian Owen Gun and an M3 Grease Gun. Chambered in the low pressure .45 ACP, it was a straight blowback, open bolt submachine gun incorporating a few moving parts. The trigger is a simple sear blocking the heavy bolt from charging forwards, stripping the round from the magazine into the chamber and striking it with the fixed firing pin. The magazine fed from the top, not as an inside joke for it being based on an Australian gun, but the top feeding design allowed gravity and the movement of the weapon firing to reduce any feeding issue that may arise from a badly made magazine. Marcus made sure that majority of the parts could be made with the current capabilities of the goblins. The few exceptions are the springs he would supply them. In theory, the gun could even be fed from a hopper removing the need for a magazine. In the end, Marcus hoped that after a few of the guns were made, the bar would be raised that none of the gunsmiths would settle on using locally made inferior internal parts and raising quality and demand. But then the guns would have to be used somewhere. Eventually, these goblins would venture out to the surface even more and risk encounters with the players on the surface. One could say that it¡¯s a betrayal to his race for aiding and arming other species, but Marcus could just respond with the generic, ¡®it¡¯s just a game.¡¯ He¡¯s here to get paid, with having fun as the second priority. The more bullets flying in the air, the better it is for players like him. They then ignored the two as the gunsmiths debated amongst themselves. Some resisted against the coming change while others are looking forward to it. Marcus zeroed on his plant and smirked as he was the most vocal in supporting the current developments. ¡°You think they¡¯ll be able to make one?¡± Bo asked as they watched the group. ¡°It¡¯ll be nice if they do, but still fine if they don¡¯t,¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Worst case, it will keep them busy until we find some way of funneling guns into this place.¡± ¡°And the best case?¡± ¡°We get to keep a hand in a growing industry in this place that will pay dividends if it gets the time to pick up speed.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you see. With the tools they have, they can only make makeshift guns that will never sell outside.¡± ¡°You remember what I said to you the first time we met?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking too small?¡± Marcus chuckled, ¡°You still are.¡± ¡°Can you at least be a little less vague?¡± ¡°They teach you business in school?¡± ¡°A bit, yes.¡± ¡°Right. Then this is how I see it. A few miles away, you have the ship which has an abundance of guns and with our position, we have the monopoly of access those guns and get them here, now we only need something that we need to trade those guns for.¡± ¡°The tea.¡± ¡°Right. The tea. It gives bonus stats for a while, and who¡¯s the likely people buy them? The players. A little boost in their stats could be the difference between getting out alive in situations or ending up dead. The reason we¡¯re getting the approval of these gunsmiths is so that we snuff out the problems before they rear their ugly heads. They¡¯re the ones getting hit hard by what¡¯s going to happen next. This should distract them long enough so they won¡¯t complain too hard until it¡¯s too late for them to stop it. This saves the Chief from being looked on as favoring humans rather than his own kind.¡± ¡°Okay? But how does that help me like you said if you¡¯re going to flood this place with guns?¡± ¡°Think about it. You said the station could only produce two kilos of tea per week. That won¡¯t be enough to satisfy the chief now that I opened the market for him. He¡¯s a warlord, the more guns he has in his hands, the better position for him. That means?¡± ¡°Expansion.¡± Bo nodded. ¡°Is that the next step? They¡¯re going to expand the farms?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. You started out as just barely keeping this station afloat, and now you¡¯re going to be planning to expand its most important industry.¡± Marcus smiled, patting the younger player on the shoulder. ¡°Put that in your portfolio.¡± This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°What¡¯s yours to gain in all of this?¡± ¡°The more bullets flying, the better it is for a mercenary like me.¡± ¡°If you say so.¡± Bo replied, then giving a small nod as Marcus caught recognition pass his face. ¡°Your guy, he¡¯s here.¡± Marcus turned around to find the taller form of Columbus passing through the crowd. Bo excused himself and disappeared. The two then locked eyes, and both gave each other a quick nod. ¡°A bit late for a session don¡¯t you think?¡± Marcus said aloud as Columbus stepped within earshot. ¡°I could say the same to you,¡± He replied. ¡°Yeah, well. You should know that there were some guys gunning for you. They look serious. It spooked me for a bit so I had to get creative.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°You know a guy named Hoplite?¡± ¡°I do. Did they give you any trouble?¡± ¡°Just some threats. Don¡¯t worry, I didn¡¯t rat you out. I don¡¯t really care what¡¯s between you and them, as long as we still understand each other.¡± ¡°I perfectly do.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°For your troubles.¡±
Attention!
150,000c received from player: Columbus
¡°Thanks.¡± Marcus said, there was 50,000c extra from the expected hundred. ¡°You got another job?¡± ¡°Unfortunately no. Maybe in a few days.¡± ¡°I guess you don¡¯t mind me using the same route we came in?¡± Marcus asked, trying to remember the route taken. ¡°You won¡¯t be using it anytime soon unless you get yourself killed a few times and lower your level.¡± ¡°Feel free. Here¡¯s the codes on the door¡± Columbus said, messaging the sequence. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind. I have to go.¡± ¡°Good night.¡± After settling all the affairs in the station and leaving Bo to prepare plans to expand the Goblin¡¯s mushroom farms, Marcus crawled out of the station to a brightening day. His pack was heavy with ten kilograms of compressed tea as payment for the order of eight pump action shotguns with the rest slated on shotgun shells. If Marcus was carrying the same weight in pure white Columbian, it wouldn¡¯t feel any different. Like it or not, he had to use the surface once more as he remembered Columbus taking the rope down the first time the two of them used his route. He can take it on the next run, but he¡¯ll have to brave the surface for now as he walked his way south towards the looming shadow of the ship over the night sky. Marcus was vigilant as he walked the dark city streets. Having trekked through these streets before, Marcus moved through the city with more confidence and covered more ground in less time. With the help of his thermal scope, he avoided being discovered by the packs of nocturnal hunters and simply avoided fights and ambushes altogether. The buildings where they encountered the group of scavengers were empty as he scouted it, and so he made his way up the ramp which gave a straight shot route towards the ship in the distance. Stepping onto the elevated highway, Marcus breathed a sigh of relief as he scanned the empty rooftops and made it back to the ship just as dawn approached. Walking up the ramp leading to the ship on foot, Marcus looked up the side of the ship and noticed barrels poking out of the ship¡¯s hull and pointing towards the city. Sensor pods tracked him, the ball turrets containing sensor suites detected him and identified him as friendly long before, which is why the guns hadn¡¯t turned him into swiss cheese. Rumbling came from inside the ship. Marcus stood to the side just as a convoy of trucks escorted by heavily armed APCs and gun trucks passed him by. Painted on the sides was the emblem of the interchange alliance, and he followed them with his gaze. On top of the ramp, Marcus peered into the back of the trucks to see them loaded with steel, glass, and pallets of refined materials. The convoy continued rumbling down the ramp and on to the attached elevated highway, making their way south of the city. With the cleared roads, the convoy quickly picked up speed. Seeing them gone, Marcus turned towards the ship just as a round impacted the hull above his head. He dove behind a piece of metal and aimed towards the general direction of the shot to find nothing but the city skyline brightened by the coming dawn. In the distance, the convoy continued on, followed by the distant rattling of machineguns and tracer fire lancing through the skyline and impacting at one of the building¡¯s rooftops. Seeing as the round wasn¡¯t for him and just a stray round sent his way, Marcus turned and sprinted towards the safety of the ship. ¡°Fuck me.¡± He sighed. Getting killed on the entrance of the safe zone while carrying his pack filled with merchandise was far from his plan for the day.
Attention!
You have entered UNCS Light of the Stars. You have been online for 14 hours. Recommend taking a rest.
Despite the quick adrenaline dump, Marcus stifled a yawn as he went straight to the upper levels and greeted the old lady as she was opening her stall. She had just started burning charcoal into embers and Marcus smiled as his head was fogging up from the lack of sleep. Still, he needed to finish his business before logging out. ¡°Had a busy night, young man?¡± She asked. ¡°Something like that.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°You know, since we¡¯re doing this thing of ours, I never got to know your name. I¡¯m Hartdegen.¡± ¡°Maryna,¡± she replied, ¡°but people prefer to call me Auntie.¡± ¡°Alright Auntie. You got some of that tea left?¡± ¡°Would it surprise you to know that I sold almost half of it yesterday?¡± Auntie smiled, putting a steaming cup in front of Marcus. ¡°Even when I put up an absurd price of 25 credits per cup, people still flock to my shop. I almost ran out of clean water because of it.¡± ¡°Not really.¡± Marcus replied, taking a sip. ¡°How much would that total per kilo?¡± ¡°I can make 400 cups for every kilogram of the tea, which should value it to 10,000 credits each.¡± He coughed as he caught the tea in the back of his throat. Coughing further, Marcus replied, ¡°That¡¯s good. Way better than your first estimate.¡± ¡°You were right when you said that it¡¯ll be like any drug.¡± Auntie said, serving Marcus a platter of his favorite. ¡°It actually hurt my pride for a bit when people would only buy the tea and not my skewered meats.¡± ¡°Would it hurt you less to give you 10 percent?¡± ¡°It would help, but I don¡¯t want to be a tea shop.¡± ¡°Not even with that kind of money?¡± ¡°The money helps, but I didn¡¯t start all this for the money.¡± ¡°What do you need to make this into a meat and tea shop? I¡¯ll help with what I can.¡± ¡°You can help with having a taste of my new recipe. I put in some of it in the marinade, to counteract the bitterness. I had to add some sugar and use it on the fatter cuts, see how it tastes.¡± Marcus looked down at the skewered meat and took a sniff. It smelled different. It had the aroma of the crushed mushroom mixed in, along with the sweet smell of burnt sugar. Licking his lips, he took a bite.
Attention!
Marinated Meat Skewer (Excellent) Select meat soaked overnight over a special blend of marinate and cooked under carefully controlled fire. The special ingredient¡¯s effects are reduced in potency but extended in duration. x.9 Stamina consumption rate (600 mins)
''Holy magic mushrooms! That''s ten fucking hours!'' Marcus thought as he read through the notification. With the added use for the enhancement of the meat, it would skyrocket the value of a kilogram at least 18,000c. Marcus swallowed and looked up at Maryna, who looked back at him with a grin. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re going to be rich, Auntie. How much weight do you think you can handle?¡± ¡°How much do you have?¡± ¡°I got ten kilos on me.¡± ¡°How long do you think you can replenish your stock?¡± ¡°Two kilograms per week, we¡¯re going to expand to make production faster.¡± Maryna nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll try increasing the price even more to make it last two weeks. I hope that will buy you enough time to meet the demand. I¡¯ll give you 10,000c for each right now. I¡¯ll give the rest later.¡± ¡°Thanks Auntie, you¡¯re a lifesaver.¡± Marcus nodded. And handed over the merchandise. Funds transferred, Marcus finished his meal with 100,000c richer and went to log out for a much needed sleep. CH 28: Signing in The shrill beeping of the bedside alarm clock roused Marcus from his sleep. With a groan, he fought for his eyelids to stay open and looked at the display. It was just before noon and he only managed a few hours of sleep. Getting up, Marcus made his way towards the bathroom, only for him to stub his toe on the bed. "Fuck me.¡± Marcus cursed, hopping on one foot. The pain helped in waking him up and he made his way to the bathroom for a cold shower. He needed to prepare for the meeting scheduled this afternoon after he received a call coming from SilverCorp, the owner of Forgelectrics, which holds the major shares of the VR pod market. The caller then informed him of an offer regarding the problem with his reaction to VR. Eager to settle the issue once and for all, Marcus agreed to schedule a meeting the same afternoon. A decision which he found to be a mistake. Stifling a yawn, he should have scheduled it for the next day. Freshened up, Marcus ate a light meal and dressed himself. He wore a collared shirt, a fresh pair of chino pants and loafers. Done, he stepped out of his apartment and headed to the business district via the connecting transit network connecting all habs under Pavonis mons. Finding the Silvercorp¡¯s main branch was easy. Stepping out of the transit line and into the station, all Marcus needed was to look out the viewing window to find the largest building built on the dusty surface of Mars. The dome shaped building glimmered under the Martian sunlight, the crisscrossing steel construction holding the building¡¯s glass shell resembled much of the woven sticks and fibers of a nest of which it was named for. Both an engineering marvel and a statement on itself, Marcus couldn¡¯t help but wonder at the engineering knowhow and expense put into erecting the structure on the surface when the norm was to bury everything underground. It had its own transit line connecting the building to the rest of the Hab through a surface rail. The transit is only open to invited guests and employees. Marcus followed the painted lines on the wall and arrived at the transit station, where a terminal scanned his identification. A transit car waited on the rails and Marcus took a seat along with other passengers wearing business attires. The train was barely filled. Only a few people waited for the scheduled departure. Marcus had nothing to do but people watch as everyone else busied themselves with their datapads, either reading or watching something on the screen. Content, Marcus leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a quick nap. ¡°Ah. Sir?¡± a voice woke him up. Marcus opened his eyes to find a young woman standing over him. She wore a blue checkered business dress and looked at him with electric blue eyes and short blond hair tucked behind one ear. ¡°Were holding up the train, we should leave the car.¡± She said. ¡°Oh. Sorry.¡± Marcus said as he got off the seat and walked out of the transit car where a small crowd all turned their head at the same time. Some sent him looks filled with annoyance, while other looked on with curiosity. He wondered why the train didn¡¯t just run back on its route. ¡®Nah, it couldn¡¯t be me.¡¯ He thought as he looked to the side and noticed the same girl following closely. ¡°How long was I sleeping there?¡± he asked. ¡°Twenty minutes, sir.¡± She said, looking down. She didn¡¯t look to be there for her own reasons and the way she followed close made it seem like she was escorting him. ¡°Aaaand?¡± Marcus drawled, baiting a response. ¡°I¡¯m Ida Karlsen, your guide. Sorry for being late.¡± She said. ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s what it is.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°It¡¯s alright. You got me more time to sleep.¡± Ida hid her face. She then looked up and stepped ahead of him. ¡°This way, sir.¡± She said, quickening his steps to lead him and they cut through a security line where people were queuing up. Marcus saw a couple of Guards standing with rifles held on their arms openly. Looking at them, he could only shake his head. The weapon held by the guard resembled much of 21st century weapons the size of a collapsed PDW, and the transparent magazine reminiscent of the P90 showed a long stack of bullets. Stagnation was always the result of any ban on information. ¡®Just look at the dark ages,¡¯ Marcus thought to himself, ¡®back then when anything related to science was considered witchcraft and blasphemy, enforced by murderous and torturous inquisition, came a couple hundred years of decline.¡¯ He was led through the main office filled with a grid of cubicles manned by corporate drones, then into a glass walled meeting room dominated with a large oak table. Knocking on it, Marcus could bet that the object had likely come from Earth and was meant to impress on the people the company¡¯s wealth and influence. Marcus could only guess how much it would take to transport a now rare wood through interstellar distances just to be here. ¡°My superiors will be here shortly. Can I get you a drink?¡± Ida asked as Marcus settled on a seat. ¡°Coffee would be good.¡± Marcus replied. ¡®Poor girl,¡¯ he thought as she watched her leave at once, ¡®probably losing her mind thinking that she¡¯s in deep trouble.¡¯ Leaning back, Marcus looked around the room to find it not that much different from the board rooms he found himself during the monthly meetings where old men drone about everything just to make themselves feel important. As for now, Marcus wondered the exact reason they called him in. The caller was vague about the offer. But with the way they were treating him, Marcus wondered if it was more about the offer itself or his favor called with the scion. A while later, a man walked into the hall and glanced his way. Marcus met his gaze, and he nodded. The man smiled and entered, carrying with him a folder, which he laid on the table. He then offered his hand. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Hello Mr. Corvo. I am Lex. We talked this morning.¡± He said, taking a seat next to him. ¡°So that was you.¡± Marcus replied. In the corner of his eye, he could see Ida walk in with this cup of coffee. He nodded, and she entered, laying the fresh brew on the table. The steam trailing from the mug spread the aroma of freshly ground coffee. Marcus missed that smell. It was unlike his own bag of inferior quality beans. Marcus turned to Lex. ¡°Sorry for being late. You kinda caught me when I had just got off from a busy night, so I overslept.¡± He said, stretching the truth as to cover up the younger woman. ¡°Oh, none of it is your fault, sir.¡± Lex replied, waving everything away and ordering his own drink from Ida. Given that she didn¡¯t introduce herself as an employee of the company, it is likely that she¡¯s working as an intern. ¡°If there is someone to blame, it would be on our side.¡± Marcus nodded. With the pleasantries done, it was time to get to the meat of things. ¡°So, what¡¯s the offer?¡± he asked. Lex cleared his throat, opening the folder, and handed the contract. ¡°We were unsure as to your preferences, so we printed the contract on paper along with an encrypted digital copy. Both are legally binding as so you can choose the one you prefer.¡± ¡°That¡¯s considerate of you.¡± Marcus replied. Marcus took the time to read the contract. It was good, too good, enough that it was tripping alarm bells in his head. He didn¡¯t want to get screwed over with the fine print and so he pored through every word and clarified even the smallest of details. Lex was patient on walking him through what was essentially a consent to record his data. Since they couldn¡¯t pinpoint the exact reason for Marcus¡¯ reaction to the VR pod, they reasoned they should proactively address the issue long before another similar case would pop up. Signing the contract would allow the company to record his data and shield them from the numerous Personal information protection acts. Signing the contract would turn him into a consenting participant. In exchange, he would be paid a stipend monthly for the duration. The number stated was fine with him, but he knew that it could be adjusted. So he negotiated. Knowing that the company could spare some credits and wouldn''t mind that much, Marcus pushed for more. Being called into the office meant that they needed him enough to warrant the treatment and Marcus held on to that. Still, he didn''t push too hard since they were there to trace what was wrong with him in the first place. As for the compensation, it amounted to 3,000 MRC, which is triple his calculated minimum monthly cost of living. It was the equivalent rate of a minimum wage worker in Pavonis which should easily take care of him. A signing bonus of another 2,000 MRC sweetened the pot. Just by signing in, Marcus would have a five-month float. It was a no brainer, especially as the protection on his personal information would kick back in once he gets taken out of the program. Also, if Marcus were to accept the contract, the previous waiver he signed would be effectively void, and he would have to log in 48 hours per week of game time. It was fine with him, but the clause that caused him some curiosity is that there would be an observer attached to his sessions. ¡°The contract¡¯s good. Real good, but I want to know more about this ¡®observer¡¯ written here.¡± ¡°Its just as it says, sir. There will be an observer to be attached to you and go along with your adventures in the game. It will be up to them to ask questions, but you can, of course, ask them to be silent instead.¡± ¡°So just a hanger on.¡± Marcus muttered. At least he should be able to defend himself and if he dies, Marcus could just leave him, as there was no stipulation in the contract that the observer had to survive. ¡°Alright.¡± Marcus said, taking the pen and signed the contract in triplicate. With the contract signed, Marcus shook hands with Lex and was led back outside by Ida. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°For covering for me.¡± ¡°No problem.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°Now guide me out? I need to get some sleep.¡± ¡°I guess this is karma. After a long time spent on being fucked over, I¡¯m bound to get a come up sometime.¡± Marcus muttered to himself as he checked the update on his bank account. The signing bonus, 2,000 MRC might be around his monthly cost of living, but still a drop in the bucket to his million MRC debt. He sighed. The sword of Damocles still hung over his head. Playing the game was the only chance he got without filing for bankruptcy, giving him more reason to go back to go back home and put more hours in the game. Getting to his apartment, he met the technicians sent by SilverCorp. The group presented their identifications, and Marcus let them into his apartment for them to install the modifications in his pod as per the contract. The modules allowed precise measurements of his biological and neurological reactions to be transmitted to the corporation for study. The installation was straightforward. Marcus watched on the side while the technicians went about their work of modifying his pod and running diagnostics. After a quarter of an hour, they left. Marcus double checked the locks and settled back into his bed. Somehow, he still couldn¡¯t find himself to go to sleep and so he reached over the two hundred-year-old phone sitting on the nightstand and booted it up. The same old logo greeted him. It had been charged to full a couple of days ago but was left alone as he never had the strength to look at the last thing left connecting him to his long-lost past. The phone¡¯s home screen greeted him with a lone video file in the center. Marcus sighed as he hovered his thumb above the icon. His heart raced as the preview showed Brandon, his brother, looking at the camera in the middle of saying something. Closing his eyes, he pressed it. ¡°Hey Marcus! Welcome to the future! I hope you didn¡¯t wake up in the middle of some alien war with the future humans looking at you for help because I know they¡¯ll just be disappointed-¡± ¡°Fucking asshole.¡± Marcus muttered. ¡°-Anyway. If you¡¯re watching this, I hope you¡¯re already drowning in gash and are living a banging life. If you¡¯re not,¡± He shrugged, ¡°I know you¡¯re already on the way towards success. You have that drive, that focus. If you¡¯re feeling down knowing that we¡¯ve gone on ahead of you, then know that you waking up in the future cured is already a gift for us. We miss you as much as you miss us. So we thought we¡¯d leave a message for you. Hopefully, it would help you adjust to your new situation. This phone and the flash drives contain videos that you might have missed, along with some files.¡± He said with a bright smile while wagging his eyebrows. ¡°You know what kind. We thought to save them for you since right now, governments around the world are cracking down on the internet, so we just thought ahead and saved them for safekeeping.¡± ¡°Also, if it happens that the future gets all 1984 on you, you can just get rid of them. I¡¯ll separate them by category. You¡¯re smart enough. You¡¯ll figure it out. Anyway. Goodbye for now. Also, in case you¡¯re curious when I recorded this, today is August 4, 2028. We got older, but we¡¯re still around.¡± He nodded, holding a bottle to the camera. ¡°Happy birthday, brother.¡± Marcus turned the screen off and tossed it off to the side. Still laying on the bed, he looked blankly at the ceiling. His eyes focused on the little cracks on the paint while head swirled with masses of thoughts and emotions. Brandon was right, he missed them. He wouldn¡¯t be able to get on with the family, with the summer barbecues and thanksgiving dinners. Still, he was alive. And that should be enough to be thankful about. Sighing, he needed to clear his head. Marcus looked down towards the pod, its doors open, almost inviting him to get into its embrace. Closing his eyes, he didn¡¯t feel like getting more sleep, not after all of that. CH 29: Hanger on The pod¡¯s doors closed under its silent motors, and Marcus felt his consciousness fading. He had gotten get a few hours more sleep and went into the pod immediately after waking up. He waited, expecting to be back on the ship, only to find himself in the same white room he was in when he first got the pod. He also wasn¡¯t alone. A scion was floating in front of him, and if a scion could smirk, Marcus was sure it was it. ¡°Good day Mr. Corvo.¡± The scion greeted in its electronic voice. ¡®You got to be kidding me.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself, as the avatar was an actual AI in the system and not just a glitch. Still, the AI being in his pod meant there was a good chance that it had a hand on what had just happened. ¡°I guess it¡¯s safe to say that you¡¯re the observer mentioned in the clause within the contract?¡± Marcus replied. ¡°You are correct to assume. We decided to have a more direct observation of the games played by humans.¡± The scion bobbed up and down. ¡°We have requested, and agreed to take physical form in the game but will not take part directly. We have a presets to which form to take, but you as the pilot can choose our form to take depending on your preference.¡± Marcus sighed. He signed the dotted line and took the money. He could, of course, renege back on the contract, but that will get him with nothing but wasted time. It is true that he was thankful for what the scion did, but his unjustified xenophobia could only hurt him in this new world he¡¯s in. At some point, he would have to start to living with the fact that humanity has its own big brother now. Might as well start to accept that fact. ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s get this over with.¡± Marcus said, looking over the scion¡¯s available avatars. It was prime time again. The crowd flowing through the market was like a tide of people going against each other. It was a time when students finish their school and working people get off their shifts, adding to a time where player density can increase in multiples within just an hour. Marcus looked over his shoulder to see a small drone resembling a helicopter and a main body for a camera. The model was based on a black hornet nano drone on which Marcus had spent some time reading about, mainly on how crazy it was to fit such a high technology in a package smaller than a man¡¯s palm. The drone flying over his shoulder was enough of a novelty that it was attracting attention from other people. Marcus ignored the looks and went straight for the armory, all the while dodging questions asked by any passing curious player. ¡°I see you¡¯re moving up in the world. First scrounging for spare parts and now buying full guns in bulk.¡± Stoner said as he processed the payment. ¡°Good thing too. Never knew holding those in the shelves turned out to make me money instead of costing me.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t you glad for a friend like me?¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°Add in a couple hundred double ought buckshot too.¡± ¡°Oooh. We got a big spender right here.¡± He said. Marcus paid. It was a bit more than the agreed amount, but the actual price of the tea easily made up for it. He then had everything packed up in a duffel bag and was preparing to leave. ¡°Listen Hart, I know what you¡¯re doing.¡± Stoner said. Nodding towards the bag. ¡°Is that going to be a problem between us?¡± ¡°It will if you keep it up. No one buys that much guns for personal reasons, and you can¡¯t convince me and anyone else otherwise.¡± Stoner replied, leaning forward. ¡°Look. I like you. The captain and his crew aren¡¯t keen on people running guns out of his ship. I¡¯m only able to get you those guns since you sold them to me over the counter and I haven¡¯t gotten to properly logging them into the inventory. But right now, I think it¡¯s too much trouble for its worth, so I¡¯m going to have to make this deal of ours be the last for now. You can still buy guns from me, but not in suspicious lots, got it?¡± ¡°I got it.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Sorry for roping you in with my shit. I didn¡¯t know you had to run that risk.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a problem. If you can get yourself permission, then I¡¯ll be your guy. But until then, things are going to keep being where they are.¡± ¡°Thanks. Appreciate it.¡± Marcus said, gathering up the guns. ¡°I better get going.¡± Still, he was grateful for their short business arrangement, however short it had been. ¡°You do that.¡± Stepping out of Stoner¡¯s shop, Marcus cinched the large backpack strapped to his shoulder and looked at both sides of the hall. It was clear. He had checked the population logs inside the ship using the game interface and should expect more players walking the halls. But sometimes, the halls were bare of players. It was like the ship itself was breathing and was caught between breaths. This was one such occasion, and Marcus capitalized on the lack of people moving about as he headed deeper into the ship. Alone and over encumbered, Marcus had to take the same route he and Columbus took when they completed his quest. Descending ever deeper into tightening halls flanked by utility rooms filled with equipment left abandoned, deemed too much trouble to salvage, Marcus followed vaguely familiar hallways and turns until he came upon the familiar crawl space. He ducked into it and crawled the narrow utility access to find the locked door. With the codes given, he opened it and looked down the hole leading to the underground rail network. Dropping the rope and his haul first, Marcus tied himself in a harness and slowly descended into the tunnels. The lights that once illuminated the length of the tunnel on their first time were now gone. The pitch black darkness was even more oppressive that he couldn¡¯t even see his hand held a few inches off his face. Raising the rifle and depressing the pressure switch, his cone of light stabbed through the inky blackness and panned to the far edges of the tunnels. He found no reflective eyes shining back at him and made doubly sure by looking through his thermal scope, now mounted on a newly bought ballistic helmet. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He needed to be as careful as he could. With him moving along the dark tunnels alone, the added weight also severely slowed him down. Not only that, the weight strapped on his back not only burdened him by its sheer weight but also slowed his turns, as he had to account for and compensate for its momentum. Walking through the tracks, a part of him was already drawing plans on a hand cranked rail cars, like the ones shown in those old black and white Buster Keaton movies. All he would need was to find one of the trains that used to run these tracks and salvage them for their axles. Add some transmission connected to a hand-crank mechanism and you¡¯ll have a car capable of traveling through these rails carrying more cargo and traveling much faster than a normal man. Going further down the tracks, he paused as he smelt something foul. The sweet smell of death mixed with decomposing refuse told him that danger was near. Striking a flare, Marcus threw it as far as he could down the dark tunnel, banishing the dark with its dull, red glow. The light didn¡¯t reach far, but it was enough for him to see shapes, silhouettes and eyes peering back at him behind hole entrances and center pylons. Striking another, Marcus held the flare with one hand, with the rifle in the other. He kept the light on the weapon turned on as he scanned the burrows where the Malifs scampered into. Blasting the holes closed would only result in nothing, as they could just burrow out once again. Marcus then kept his movements slow and deliberate as he crept through. All the while maintaining the entrances within his vision. Luckily, the beasts seemed to share Marcus¡¯ aversion to a fight. It developed into a quiet stare down as he slowly made his way through their territory. They kept their distances and Marcus could see them through their eyes shining against the darkness. He was content on keeping them away until he arrived at the cave in where he would turn and crawl into one of the dug tunnels. Crawling backwards into the tunnel, he made it into the other side and whistled towards the sentries. He sighed in relief. His nerves were frayed. It was like the time when he walked into a bear when hiking on a trail for a date. The girl at the time was adamantly against guns and so he only had a can of bear spray on him that luckily wasn¡¯t used as the bear quickly lost interest and slowly walked away. After that, Marcus learned his lesson and made sure to never walk the woods without packing heat. Unlike the last time, the sentries were now much more alert. They set up better barricades facing Marcus, and they all ran into their positions at the sound. They stood back-lit by the firelight, facing him, and ducked into cover. ¡°It¡¯s me! Don¡¯t shoot!¡± Marcus shouted, slinging his rifle and walked out of cover, hands raised. ¡°Hey boys.¡± He greeted, ¡°Don¡¯t mind me, just delivering something your chief needed bought. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m alone.¡± With a beckoning wave, Marcus was ordered to step forward. He followed. The sentries kept their guns pointed at him as more goblins ran from behind their lines. More orders, and a team of two was sent ahead to check the halls behind him. Watching them, Marcus noted an improvement in their readiness but could still do with some improvement, even under his untrained civilian eyes. The scouting duo came back, and they led him through the line. They took his duffel bag to check its contents and promptly gave it back with a strong shove. The hostilities well received, Marcus wondered if they were the same goblins he took out the last time he was here, and if they were, whether they kept their memories of the last time he killed them. Looking at the looks they were giving him and the barrels pointed his general direction, Marcus guessed that they do. ¡°Come on, man.¡± Marcus teased, ¡°we¡¯re all friends now.¡± No response came, but a barrel jammed on the small of his back was clear enough. Seeing as he was still alive and not shot full of holes, Marcus followed the command as they led him through the rest of their line and back into the main tunnels. Doors closed behind him with a slam and he looked around with his thermals to find the tunnels clear. Still, he didn¡¯t trust the goblins as far as he could throw them. He unslung his rifle and walked along the line. Looking at the drone hovering next to him, he asked. ¡°Hey, can you talk?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± the scion¡¯s black hornet avatar replied. ¡°Can you humor me for a bit?¡± ¡°Yes. I can.¡± ¡°Okay. There¡¯s like what? Twenty billion people living all around the solar system and you guys just happen to pick me. With that, I got better chances of winning the lottery, so why me, big brother?¡± ¡°High chance of referencing the book 1984 of the term ¡®Big brother is always watching you¡¯. Your assumption is correct that we have been watching you since you have been taken out of cryopreservation. The reason is that you maintain higher danger rating than the average human being.¡± ¡°You know, in any other context, I would have taken that as a compliment. So what now?¡± ¡°Nothing, we will continue to observe you as you have done no crime.¡± ¡°So, as long as I keep walking the line, I¡¯m good.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Then, I guess you¡¯re my shoulder angel then, huh?¡± Or better yet, shoulder executioner. ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°So why all this convoluted bullshit?¡± Marcus continued. ¡°You could just peep into my life without hooking me up with that experiment gig.¡± ¡°You needed assistance. It is to reduce the probability of you falling into ruin and increase the chance of you committing a crime.¡± ¡°Hey! Go fuck yourself, robot. I said that I was thankful for what you did, but maybe I should take that back!¡± He snarled, turning around and pointing at the camera. ¡°Get this straight. I¡¯d rather eat food from the trash than steal from or harm someone else. And just like whatever code you have in there, there are lines I just don¡¯t cross, there are commands I don¡¯t follow. Just because I was born in my country and my time doesn¡¯t mean I pose any danger to anyone. Sure, you can say that I¡¯m dangerous. The shit in my head might put anyone in prison if they try to do them now. But knowing something is not a crime, doing something criminal is.¡± ¡°Virtue is not what a man can¡¯t do, but what he can do but decides not to.¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°What you did is the same thing as me thinking that you¡¯re not worth trusting just because you are alien. Take that as you will.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± ¡°Go back to observing.¡± Marcus said, turning around. ¡°We¡¯re done talking.¡± Who would have thought that a bit of small talk could devolve into what it ended up? It might have been better for him not to have known, as he would have preferred for him to be thankful for the alien AI. Still, honesty has its own merits, even though how much it hurts. What was he thinking, expecting sympathy from a machine, a robot? He would have had a better chance of taking tears off a fucking stone. Scoffing, Marcus looked over his shoulder to see the drone body of the scion was still there, observing. Maybe it was expecting a violent outburst, or maybe a tantrum to come out of him, but Marcus would not give it that. Instead, he looked forward and ignored it. He walked by the length of the tunnel with not a word uttered until he arrived at the shrine and its silent, recessed guardian. He looked up at the relic. A machine built to guard the doors of the station, still working and diligently doing its duty even long after its purpose was due. The city above it was long lost, and the station behind the thick bulkhead it was guarding was no longer inhabited by people, but by other lesser creatures who made it their home. He looked over the drone hovering over his shoulder once more, then dogged the hatch and opened the heavy door. CH 30: New Developments Despite it being night for everyone else, it was daytime at the station. The lights were at its full intensity and the goblins were out browsing and engaging at the bustling marketplace. Walking among them, Marcus noticed that his presence around the goblins was getting to be a more common occurrence and so they were getting more comfortable with him around. Sure, there was still the buffer zone forced into him where the smaller creatures would go around or slow down. All the while, they would look up at him with wide eyes as he passed. Passing through a pair of kids doing just that, Marcus chuckled. It was like when he took a vacation for an entire summer in South East Asia; it was the same look they were giving him back then. For the kids, it was easy to explain, as it was the first time they¡¯ve seen a white man in their life. The crowd in the open market considerably thinned out as Marcus neared the gunsmith¡¯s area. Marcus cared a peek into their stores to find them busy. They sat hunched over their workbenches, one was measuring grains of what looked to be gunpowder in fine scales and carefully depositing them into spent shotgun shells, passing them over to the next in line where he insert a wad then a measure of shot then handing it over to the last in line who would crimp it, inspect it and pass it over to the last inspection before being tossed into a pile of reloaded shotguns shells. Marcus spent a few more minutes watching the process. Despite their set up being crude, they made it up by being meticulous. Each hand the shell passed, it was inspected. If any defect was found, it was tossed into the rejects bin. Marcus sighed. Watching the goblins reload ammunition made him remember the times when he was a kid. Back then, he would sit on his father¡¯s lap, his brother standing on the side, and the three of them went on to the tedious process of reloading rifle rounds by hand. Every step in the process had to be done right, if not perfectly. First was cleaning the brass, then lubing, sizing, cleaning it again, measuring, priming, setting the powder and seating the bullet. It would have been boring for his young mind if not for his father. He had a way of making it interesting, giving the reason of why you do it, what it means and passing along lessons which sunk deep in his developing mind. The next day, or in the same afternoon, if they finish early, they would go to the range and shoot rounds into paper using his old Springfield. It was an heirloom that survived the First World War and was passed down the line and into his father. It was never told how his great grandfather got it. For all everyone knew, they just got it at one point and no one asked, or no one even bothered to ask where he got it. All the hours of work put to make the bullets only for them to be shot in just mere moments. First, they would shoot factory ammo, then check the groups. The best they could get from the old rifle was 2 MOA. It was piss poor compared to its modern counterparts, but that was not the point. After walking back, they would then switch their ammo to their hand loads and find their rounds land almost on top of each other at a hundred yards. ¡°Listen, almost every outcome in life is not decided in the moment of truth, but in the measure of preparation applied long before. If we hadn¡¯t done everything right as we loaded these rounds, we wouldn¡¯t have had this result.¡± His father said. Movement in the corner of his eye took Marcus out of his musing. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly as he wondered why the memory came back to the surface. He opened his eyes to see the chief walking towards him. The old goblin bore a grin on his face as he looked over at the bag slung over Marcus¡¯ shoulder. He handed it to his entourage, who checked it and nodded.
Attention:
Purchase contract: Deliver 8 pump action shotguns and 200 shotgun shells complete!
Increased relations towards Goblin Chief Tiul.
10,000 Exp
+2 Fame
+3 contribution to Songbird Station
With his contract complete, Marcus looked for Bo, who was online and entered the central HVAC room where he usually hang around. Inside, he found goblins working the machines. They did simple stuff, running around and monitoring the feeds, then manually logging them at intervals. They all looked up at him as he entered, and Marcus gave them a quick nod back. Recognizing him, everyone ignored him and went back into their jobs. Marcus found Bo in the connected machine shop, currently working on installing a new metal lathe while the motor he was previously working on was running in the corner without load. ¡°Hey,¡± Bo greeted as he looked up. ¡°Nice drone you got there.¡± ¡°I got it after doing some shit. Now it¡¯s stuck with me.¡± Marcus replied, stepping further inside to see more steel stock stacked up on shelves. If he wanted, Bo could make another lathe for the shop as it was one of the few machines that could make itself. ¡°Finally got some new equipment?¡± ¡°Oh yeah. Transporting it here took longer than I would have liked, but we got it here. We found it in one of the buildings up north. With the help of the new guns you gifted the chief, we got enough of a breathing room clearing out the monsters on the way long enough to move it down the northern tunnel.¡± ¡°And the new little green men?¡± ¡°I always thought you had to hire them directly from the system with their presets, but I took your advice and taught them myself. It was hard starting them out, but that¡¯s until I got the Instruction skill. Now I had them taught and got them working on all the menial tasks which free me up to do something else. They can¡¯t do anything else, but that¡¯s fine. All that matters right now is that we just proved that you can teach the NPCs skills that could be useful and tailored to you at a much cheaper price. If it weren¡¯t for your advice, I never would have thought of anything else. Thanks.¡± ¡°Not a problem. You did all the legwork, so most of the credit goes to you.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Say, how did you get them to work under you and how much are you paying them?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not much. I pay them twenty rounds every day. A lot cheaper than 1000c per day if I hire them from the system.¡± Bo shrugged. ¡°The hard part would be convincing the chief. For me, it was simple as just asking, but that could be different with you.¡± Marcus nodded. That could prove difficult. The chief¡¯s hold in his power would likely be his monopoly of violence and would not be keen on letting go of his grip, even for a bit. It would have to be within extreme conditions for him to loosen his hold and let him command his troops of little green men. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Thanks.¡± Marcus replied, handing Bo his own order of small parts and went to leave the room when he felt the ground shook. The lights flickered and dust and debris fell from the ceiling. ¡°That doesn¡¯t feel like an earthquake.¡± Marcus said, looking back over at Bo. ¡°That felt more like an explosion.¡± ¡°It¡¯s coming from the main entrance. I think its under attack.¡± Bo said, walking over to a locker by the door and pulled out an HK-33, the little brother of the HK-G3, chambered in 5.56 with the collapsible stock. Racking the charging handle, he then took out a bandolier of STANAG magazines and slung it on his shoulder. Bo then pointed at the goblins. ¡°All of you. Stay here.¡± Seeing this, Marcus readied his weapon, and checked chamber. Brass gleamed under the flickering light with more hollow point rounds packed in the magazine. Patting his magazines, Marcus nodded and the two ran out of the utility room. Marcus followed Bo, as he knew the station well. They ran through maintenance halls and came out of the northern side of the station. There, they found goblins scampering to get to the commotion. Guns were held all around, but the number of makeshift weapons did nothing to bolster Marcus¡¯ confidence in the defending force. As a force of habit, he checked of his equipment once more then fast walked towards the erupting gunfire ahead. Marcus and Bo arrived at the other end of the station. There, the large bulkhead was open, fortified with bunkers and sandbags set in the middle of the rails. Dim firelight lit the space as the overhead fluorescent lights have been shot out. Spikes were set into the ground, pointed outwards to defend against charging beasts, but were barely effective at defending from the attacking force. ¡°They took out the sentry.¡± Bo said, pointing at the smoking hulk hanging from the ceiling. Seeing the sentry the first time, Marcus knew they would need an anti-tank weapon to take it out, which the attackers did. He only hoped that they didn¡¯t bring more, as the tight quarters in the tunnels would make quick work of them if they had more explosives. From the top of the platform, Marcus took a second to make out the situation. Goblins ducked behind the sandbags and bunkers, only popping their heads at intervals to fire at the darkness in front of them. It was not effective, seeing as a Goblin peeking over his sandbag line jerked its head back. It slumped forward and let go of its makeshift shotgun to clatter over the rails, only for another to pick it up and take its old position The bunker with the PKM was silent. Goblins were running to it and were being suppressed by silent shots. There was no sonic crack as the bullets passed by, which meant that the bullets were subsonic. Energy beams also lanced from the darkness of the tunnels. Goblins hit had holes burned into their skin as the lights cauterized everything they touched. Thankfully, it was no Imperial lasgun. Marcus read enough about the description of its effect and was not keen on seeing it for himself. ¡°Tell them to keep in cover. They ain¡¯t doing shit!¡± Marcus ordered Bo. ¡°I can¡¯t! They won¡¯t listen to me!¡± He said. ¡°Then point me to who does!¡± ¡°That one!¡± He said, pointing to a goblin with the only functional gun in the stack. It was an old AK with a broken wooden stock held together by a length of baling wire. Its fore grip was wrapped in what was once a white piece of cloth now colored into a dirty, greasy brown. ¡°Then go tell him!¡± Marcus said, running forward towards their furthest line. Jumping into cover, he pulled out a flare and struck the end, throwing it as far as he could go, only to find a team of five figures illuminated and backing away from its light. From a second¡¯s glimpse, Marcus recognized mounts set into their helmeted heads, holding binocular devices lowered towards their eyes. Marcus ducked his head down to cover as rounds shot where it had been a second ago. Rounds zipped overhead and a stray round hit his shield, lowering it. He looked to the side of him to see the terrified face of a goblin looking at him with wide eyes. Then Marcus noticed. His heart was pounding, fingers tingling from the dump of adrenaline coursing through his system. ¡®I always wanted to know what being shot at was like¡¯ He remembered telling the scion. Now he was here, in the same position he described, and smiled. Slumping, he kept his head as low as he could and laid prone behind the sandbag position. Looking up, he saw the drone housing the scion looking down at him instead of the enemies. ¡®Fucking useless¡¯ Marcus snarled and nudged it higher using the barrel of his weapon. The drone flew higher and out of cover to stay away from the barrel, then shattered as a round found its mark and hit it. Marcus couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the sight. He felt alive. Winking at the terrified goblin, he pulled the pin off a smoke grenade and chucked it to fall in front of their line and cutting line of sight. With the ranges of the goblin¡¯s guns, putting their positions in the middle of the track was stupid. It allowed players with longer ranged weapons to effectively suppress them without the defenders having enough capability to fight back. The developing smoke screen should mitigate their range disadvantage and turn it to their side. If the men on the other side would dive through the smoke for a frontal charge, then they¡¯re welcome to do so. But for now, it was enough to buy the defenders time. There is also the fact that smokes have a minimal effect on thermal devices, unlike night vision goggles. Marcus grinned as he flicked down the mount holding his thermal scope and turned it on. With both eyes open, the black and white feed from the scope superimposed onto what he could see with his naked eye. In one, Marcus could only see the billowing white smoke while from the other, he could see the team of five posted on the other side, aiming at the smoke and not firing. He had time. A few seconds was enough for Marcus to switch his magazines containing hollow points to armor piercing. Charging his rifle once more to eject the hollow point round in the chamber and feed the armor piercing round, Marcus raised his rifle to the figure laying prone in the middle of the tracks. For a second, he wondered what they were trying to do, then quickly caught himself. He flicked the rifle into Semi, then squeezed the trigger. The hot gas coming out of the barrel blinded his thermals for a second. Marcus didn¡¯t wait for it to reset, as he dumped more rounds at the last position of his target. He then lowered his rifle a fraction and confirmed his kill through the unmoving thermal signature on the ground. His target had its head slumped to the ground and its rifle held loosely in his hand. ¡°Sorry buddy.¡± Marcus muttered as he raised his rifle again and shifted his aim towards the other figures. He fired just as the men realized what happened and started backing up. They shot towards the smoke to cover their escape, but hit nothing. Now, tunnel fights had shown its first rule. There are only two ways to go. Marcus stood and kept firing. Emboldened by his actions, the rest of the defending force followed his action and started sending rounds through the smoke. Marcus could see the effect as the white hot rounds seared through the cold tunnel air, mostly missing their targets but still enough to make their overwhelming presence known. Marcus broke through the second man¡¯s shields and took him down with a shot in his throat. Marcus could see the warm spray of blood through his thermals. The body fell, which caused the other three to lose their composure and break into a straight run. ¡°Charge!¡± Marcus yelled, pointing his rifle towards the men and running through the smoke. The goblins followed, yelling at the top of their lungs. Their shouts echoed through the tunnels along with the report of their guns. The three paused and turned around to fire back, but it only slowed them down. Marcus already had his rifle lined to his third target. With a flurry of rounds, he took out the third man in the group just as the goblins broke through the cloud of smoke. The last survivors tried their best to fight back, but could not resist the green tide that approached them. Marcus held his fire, letting the goblins take care of the rest. They melted under the volume of fire sent their way as soon as the goblins came within range of their weapons. Contrary to what media had led most to believe, shotguns are still lethal at ranges within fifty yards and even more using slugs. Still, buckshot was enough with their pellets and their tendency to ricochet off concrete. They are the perfect tunnel weapons. The two survivors tried to fight for their lives, but were powerless as the pellets chipped at their shields. Their protection lasted only a few seconds under fire until it broke, leaving the flesh underneath. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t touch my fucking loot!¡± Marcus yelled, which pierced through the din of celebrating goblins. It¡¯s time to find out who these people were. CH 31: Afteraction Marcus checked at his still recharging shields and frowned as he tried to remember when he got hit. He didn¡¯t notice from the chaos of the short firefight let a lot of lead flying around the tight confines of the tunnels explained some ricochets hitting him but a niggling thought in the back of his mind told him that some hits he sustained came from the goblins behind him. Looking down at the gathered pile, he wouldn¡¯t have to think hard of the reason of someone trying to merc him for the loot. From that quick engagement, Marcus bagged three of the players, and so most of it belonged to him. Of course, he planned to share some with the chief to keep him in friendly terms but even with that, there was still a lot left for him. On his feet lay load bearing vests, three pairs of night vision goggles along with their helmet mounts, ammo, two energy weapons and one of the many guns Marcus knew he¡¯d only hold and look at in games.
VSK-94 A variant of the 9A-91 compact assault rifle. Manufactured out of stamped sheet metal with a dovetail mount, polymer handguard, and a skeletonized lightweight stock. Weight: 3.1 kg (3 Str.) Caliber: 9x39mm Mods: NSPU-M Night scope
From what Marcus knew, the Russians developed it to make a cheaper silenced sniper rifle alternative for the Russian military, other than the VSS or the AS VAL. Marcus held the weapon in his hands and marveled at the compactness and how light it was. He never considered himself a Russophile, but he could always appreciate the philosophies that were involved in designing Russian small arms; mass production and simplicity, for its millions of conscripts and just accurate enough to do the job done. Of course, he could still appreciate his sub MOA AR-10, but he had shot it so much that all the novelty had changed into the mundane. Here, he was holding something he consider as unobtainable and couldn¡¯t help but look forward to shooting it. Shouldering the stock, he looked through the night vision scope installed on the weapon and already knew he might have a new favorite rifle. Looking up, the chief finished dealing with his people in the aftermath of the quick firefight. Marcus laid the rifle down and approached him. The chief then caught him in his gaze, then to the pile of captured gear set aside. ¡°Good kills.¡± The chief said as Marcus approached. Marcus nodded. He didn¡¯t know how to respond to that, so he instead tried to shift it to another subject entirely. ¡°How are your subordinates? I hope there aren¡¯t that much casualties.¡± ¡°They will come back. And will learn their lesson.¡± The chief replied. ¡°Now. I want to know who attacked.¡± Marcus pulled out the three dog tags marking the names of the players and handed it to him.
Dogtags:
Player: Zim ???????ID: 057637191233 Lvl 29
Player: Greed ??????ID: 942932237683 Lvl 32
Player: Frostbite ?????ID: 298545908770 Lvl: 31
Their names meant nothing to him, but their levels worried him for a bit, as they were all around the level of thirty. It was the highest Marcus had ever seen and was surprised that he could even take them out given the level disparity. Knowing that he had loaded his rifle with AP rounds before in that firefight, he noted he should buy more to even out the playing field. Still, it was a shame they all died. It would have been nice to have a chance to try and interrogate one of them, but Marcus didn¡¯t kid himself that they¡¯ll just tell him their intentions. Their gear they brought could also clue them in on their intentions. From the amount of ammunition they brought, its easy to say that they came here for a long fight. The chief handed back the tags, then started ordering his goblins to check out the rest of the tunnel. Marcus caught the chief was furious. There was a bit of snarling involved from his chittering commands to his people, along with his openly bared fangs. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. With nothing to do and seeing as there was little chance of a follow up attack, Marcus extended an offer to join, which was quickly accepted. It was the station¡¯s A team. The Chief¡¯s personal bodyguards led the eight goblin team armed with the same shotguns Marcus was carrying on his back earlier in the day. Unlike the disorganized mob manning the defenses, they moved with ease and discipline as they single filed down the station and dropped into the rails. Marcus was an attachment, a backup and an added firepower, so he trailed at the back of the line. It was fine with him; he didn¡¯t mind as it allowed for him to watch their movements while taking notes of the good practice along with catching the bad. Marcus jumped into the tracks, and he lowered the thermals to his eyes. He saw a clear black and white tunnel mouth superimposed with his other unaided MK1 eyeballs, who saw nothing but the dark mass of a lightless subway. Bo was ahead, standing on top of a ladder, looking over the destroyed sentry gun. Marcus sent him a wave as they passed him by. ¡°How¡¯s it looking?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°It¡¯s looking bad. The penetrator went through everything like butter. If the copper jet didn¡¯t take out the electronics, then the heat did.¡± Bo replied, looking down. Marcus nodded and followed along the procession. He knew was lucky he was equipped with a thermal scope instead of a pair of NVGs. It gave him the slightest bit of advantage against the attackers, which in the end, turned out to be just enough. If it weren¡¯t for that, he knew they could be counted a lot more casualties, and maybe Marcus could be part of them. Luckily, the tunnels outside the wire were clear. There weren¡¯t any reinforcements. There were traces of fighting seeing the corpses of Malifs scattering an intersection in the rails, likely killed by the attackers in their approach. There, they also found their stashed bags containing more ammunition, meds, and more supplies. Goblins walked the line and went for the dead Malifs, likely going for their meat when an idea occurred. ¡°Stop! Don¡¯t touch that. Leave it where it is.¡± He said, already remembering stories of how Iraqis and Afghans went about hiding explosives inside carcasses and wherever to lure in and harm unsuspecting soldiers. Like one of his friends usually say; ¡®when shit goes down, don¡¯t fight like soldiers, fight like insurgents.¡¯ Marcus checked his inventory and smiled as barely touched his stock. It should be enough, but it¡¯s going to take almost all of his explosives making the booby traps. But first, it would be better if he sell them to the chief first then have his plan ready on where to best place them. With more loot than he could carry, Bo¡¯s machine shop was the only place in the station where he could store it. Entering the shop, Marcus found the goblins cleaning the rust off salvaged parts and coating them in a light layer of grease. Bo was nearby, busy cleaning his weapon, which Marcus wondered if he ever even fired it during the fight. ¡°Yo. You mind if I keep these in your shop while I look for the chief?¡± He asked. ¡°Go ahead. But can I look at the tags?¡± Bo asked as he looked up from the bench. Intrigued, Marcus handed over the tags and watched Bo as he read who they belonged to and caught a silent curse uttered under his breath. ¡°You know these guys?¡± Marcus asked as Bo handed the tags back. ¡°I do.¡± Bo answered, shyly looking away. He then looked back at Marcus, then continued. ¡°We had been playing with each other for a few days at the beginning of the game but had a falling out. They wanted to attack the station and pillage it for all its worth. I disagreed. I didn¡¯t want to play the game that way.¡± ¡°Seeing that you¡¯re here and they¡¯re over there. I¡¯m guessing you fucked them over?¡± Marcus replied. Bo nodded, digging into his pockets then handing over the same tags, but showing lower levels. ¡°I let myself get captured. All I had to lose from getting killed by then is my shitty gear, so made them a deal. The station back then barely had enough power for the lights, so the chief accepted my offer. I restored power, just barely, and then rerouted enough to feed the sentry guns guarding the doors. I activated them right on time when they were in the middle of their attack. The gun¡¯s programming was glitched at first, so it killed Crusty and his team, along with some goblins. I almost got killed too, but after a reset and finding the control panels and hacking into them, I managed to set the defenses to where they are now.¡± ¡°Level 20.¡± Marcus replied, remembering the first time. Bo nodded. ¡°I thought that the turret should be able to deter them for more time, but it seems that I was wrong about that.¡± ¡°So, I guess you don¡¯t mind then?¡± Marcus asked, miming pulling a trigger. ¡°No.¡± Bo shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t know them that well, but with the little time I spent with them, I wouldn¡¯t stop you on hunting them down. They take care of each other but weren¡¯t saints either. PKing them will only be karma since I confirmed it myself that they had been doing it ever since the game started.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°Then I need you to try to think of why they are here now. Knowing the reason for attacking gives us a leg up in the defense.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t I just teamed up with them for a short while. They needed my skills, and we all knew that our group will only last a short while so they didn¡¯t reveal much about their plans. I only knew that I gleaned.¡± ¡°Just try.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°even a guess is better than nothing.¡± Bo nodded, deep in thought. ¡°I don¡¯t know. All I could think about right now is that they¡¯re looking for territory. They were a part of a 40 man clan, SRT. And what I heard about them is that they¡¯re competing with another clan that¡¯s just a bit smaller than them. They were tight-lipped about it, but I think their leader, Crusty, is trying to rise in their ranks. I don¡¯t know for certain, but I think they think they want to take this place and make it a territory of their own.¡° ¡°Well, shit.¡± Marcus replied. 40 players. Given that most of them will be at a combat capacity, the only advantage the station has in its defense is its bottleneck. There is no place to flank the station, which meant that any effective attack would have to go through the railways. But the problem they have now is that they don¡¯t have enough guns and training to hold an effective defense since even a five-man group could pressure their line enough to have it close to breaking. Still, with all he had riding on him being the sole supplier of that prized mushroom tea. Marcus had to try to hold. ¡°I guess that explained the chief¡¯s reaction to seeing their names. You think the chief will allow me to get myself some goblins to work under me now?¡± Bo shrugged. ¡°He would be stupid if he won¡¯t. But we both know he¡¯s far from that.¡± Ch 32: Recruitment ¡°I not sell you my people. They work, you pay them, you take care of them.¡± The goblin chief said, waving a group of goblins carrying sandbags forward. They were at the recently attacked checkpoint, which was being reinforced with loads of dirt filled bags taken from god knows and used to double up on cover. ¡°No problem. I wouldn¡¯t want it any other way.¡± Marcus said, not expecting it to be this easy. ¡°So uh, do I just shout it at the market or do I post a job offering somewhere?¡± ¡°I tell my people to spread the word.¡± The chief replied, waving someone away. The goblin nodded and ran off, disappearing among the mass of pointy ears. ¡°Okay then. I¡¯ll make it simple. Thirty rounds per day with a signing bonus of 20 rounds. I¡¯ll arm them and I¡¯ll train them. But I¡¯ll keep all the rights to all the property I provide them and if they want to, they can leave whenever they want, given that there is no upcoming fight. Since I can¡¯t have mass desertion whenever we¡¯re coming up on one. Two of yours are good enough for now, I think. Better to start small.¡± The chief nodded. ¡°Is fine. I spread the word.¡± He said, then called over his bodyguard. A long string of commands to a runner who set off to follow the orders. ¡°So, you want an exchange for it or what?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°No.¡± The Chief replied, catching a goblin approaching them and gave a signal, which it duly ran off to accomplish. Seeing as the chief was looking to be having a busy day and him not needing anything else, Marcus excused himself and stepped back to let him handle his business. ¡°Right. Thanks.¡± Moving through the market, he could see the attack on the station entrance gave the entire station a tense atmosphere. There were fewer goblins walking down the main avenue, and everyone was giving him weary looks. There weren¡¯t any threats and open accusations thrown yet, but Marcus knew it will only be a matter of time if he keeps staying around the station longer. Heading to Bo¡¯s shop, Marcus cinched his pack tighter. It was a lot lighter now, with all the explosives gone. Selling the idea of placing explosives in the tunnels was easy, along with selling the explosives themselves. Marcus sold them cheap, with barely the overhead since he had another order of rifles. This time worth about fifty thousand worth in partial credit of five bags of tea packed in his bag. Somehow, despite his business sense telling him to refuse, Marcus accepted. If a warlord must loan money from his gun runner, then it seems like it should be the best time to drop him, but the chief was his only customer at the moment and it wouldn¡¯t do well to leave his sole supplier in the dust on the first sign of danger. Also, it wasn¡¯t like he was getting that too down in the red, since the retail price of the mushrooms was much more than what they were selling it for him. No. Marcus had to remind himself again that both their futures are intertwined now and their prosperity is also tied to his own. He shouldn¡¯t be greedy. This place could also be a further source of manpower, for the quality, he would have to wait and see. If he could get a training regimen set, he could undercut the system itself on providing players and guilds their needed guards, mechanics, cooks, and any support personnel they are going to need in the maintenance of their bases and vehicles. His unique job ability of being able to write up contracts paired with his instruction skill allowed him to do just that. All he needs are bodies. Marcus smiled. Yes, he could see it now. He could be this game¡¯s Halliburton. If he could get enough fighters trained, he could also be this game¡¯s Blackwater, or maybe even try his hand in toppling governments and factions like Executive Outcomes. But first, logistics. He pulled up his menu to write on his notes, listing guns, ammunition, and other supplies that they will need. He would also have to read up on the subject at some point. His limited knowledge could only get him so far. Marcus thought back on the data packet left for him by his family and friends. Brandon knew about the topics he liked to read and if his insinuations were on point, there should be some material in there. Reading up on all the things he read, Marcus had a likely chance of being on some list. Now, it was impossible for him not to be. Marcus was walking in the small hallway leading to Bo¡¯s shop when he saw the familiar figure of one of the Chief¡¯s bodyguards. ¡°Who are these?¡± he asked, looking at the two scrawny goblins looking up at him. ¡°Your fighters. Two, like said. Chief say not to get them killed.¡± The Chief¡¯s bodyguard, Okz, replied. He stood behind the two with his shotgun held in his little hands and looked to be coercing them rather than just taking them to him. Still, Marcus had little idea how their culture worked and maybe him asking the chief for manpower for his own is like asking your neighbor for some sugar. ¡°Okay then. I¡¯ll take them.¡± Marcus replied. Okz nodded and left. Marcus looked down at the pitiful duo and could only sigh. They were thin, barely looking to hold up a full sized rifle to their shoulders, let alone be able to shoot them accurately. Marcus guessed they were the rejects for their security forces and were likely just thrown at him to get them out of the way. Or at least that¡¯s how he could look at it, but manpower is still manpower. The quality might fall on a range of deadweight to useful beings of society, but the only way he could find out right now is to test them himself. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. He pulled out a couple of papers he prepared and handed them to the two. They both looked at the piece of paper and seemed to read it. ¡®Either the system is adapting, or it¡¯s just making a show,¡¯ Marcus reasoned as he watched the two nod in satisfaction and before Marcus could react, biting their hand and using their blood to sign their prints on the paper.
Congratulations!
You have recruited two NPCs into your command! Take care of them.
Warning!
2 employees pending payment! (2x20 7.62x39mm rounds)
-10 Morale after time limit ends! (24H)
Morale
Hidden stat. The overall level of your force¡¯s enthusiasm. Ranging from -100 to +100, effects vary from the level of NPC morale from the NPC respawning immediately after death to desertion.
Alright. Marcus read the notification. He needed bullets to pay the two their signing bonus. The pristine armor piercing round and hollow points he had loaded in his pack and magazines will not do as they are worth a lot more compared to the dirtier rounds being circulated in their station. He waved for them to follow as he went inside Bo¡¯s shop, and could already see them dragging their feet. ¡°Hey Bo. How much are you saying you want the goggles for again!?¡± ¡°5000c!¡± Bo shouted back from the back of his shop. ¡°Can you make it in bullets? I got my guys right now and they look like they need a meal first.¡± He then looked at the two. ¡°Can you understand me?¡± ¡°Yes. We do.¡± One of them answered. ¡°Well, stand there for a bit. I¡¯ll get you two your pay and we could get you two something to eat.¡± Marcus said, seeing their eyes light up for a bit. Walking over to Bo, he found him laying a .50 cal ammo can on one of the benches and nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a thousand shitty ammo there in clips of 10. I¡¯ll give you the rest later. Come on! I¡¯m good for it! Do know that each caliber has their own value against others. 7.62x39 is the base. If goblins are looking for payment and they throw a number, they are talking about 7.62. There are, of course, exchange rates between the calibers, but you can just find them out yourself. But don¡¯t get scammed. The usual rate is you can break a single 7.62x39 into three pistol calibers, and two 7.62x39 is worth one full power rifle cartridge, like 7.62x51 and 54R.¡± Marcus nodded. The conversion rate is simple enough, and he looked down at the can and saw lines of reloaded 7.62 rounds with questionable quality packed neatly in stripper clips. It made a quick way of denominating them without counting them himself, and Marcus took a handful of clips totaling to 120 rounds of ammunition. ¡°Going to be a bitch carrying that much on me just to pay them. Is there a better way of, you know, carrying their currency in a more compact package. Gold maybe?¡± ¡°Its tea.¡± ¡°Well fuck. I guess I¡¯ll just keep paying them in ammo then.¡± Marcus said and tossed the two¡¯s signing bonus towards them. The two took their payment and kept in their little pouches hanging off the same ropes keeping their loincloths on their waist, with both now looking to be very much in high spirits. ¡°Follow me,¡± Marcus waved, the two now having a visible spring on their step. ¡°What are your names?¡± ¡°Gabs.¡± ¡°Fleex.¡± Marcus looked at the two and already knew his going to mix them up at some point. He needed a better way to distinguish who from who. ¡°Good. Expect your two¡¯s pays on the end of the week. You two know this, I may not make you happy, but I can keep you two comfortable. I¡¯ll provide your clothes, equipment, food. All I need from the two of you are two things: that you follow my orders, and you don¡¯t stab me in the back. If we don¡¯t have a fight coming, you can ask to leave anytime you want, but I¡¯ll only let you go two weeks after you tell me. These are simple instructions. Do you two understand?¡± Both nodded, and Marcus nodded back. He led them to the market where he spent the rest of the rounds buying them food and locally made guns. The starting guns of a couple of pipe shotguns also worked to his advantage as it allowed Marcus to dangle the opportunity to be promoted directly by being given better guns through personal achievements and earning his trust. As a demonstration, Marcus pulled out the VSK-94 now slung on his shoulder alongside his MDR and let them feel the rifles, making them salivate at the chance of owning them before taking it back. Marcus could see hunger in their eyes and he hoped it should provide the two enough motivation to be as loyal to him as he could, even better if more loyal than the chief. With everything needed to be done in the station, Marcus led the two as they made their way back to the ship through the underground tunnels. While walking, Marcus thought more about the logistics of this small operation. The way he set it up was that he would provide everything, which meant that all property and responsibility would fall on him. It should work with a small team, but as his plan to expand his numbers and operations, he would need a solid plan to keep everything in working order and to establish a solid organization. Marcus looked at the two and the pitiful rags they were wearing. They needed uniforms, for them to identify each other at a distance more easily, while giving the impression of a credible force. The clothes available in the station would not do. He needed to give his men a level of prestige separate to the local forces there, which meant that he would have to source them at another place. The ship was an easy source, but there were no BDU¡¯s available to fit the four-foot frames of the goblins, which meant that they would have to modify the clothes to an extent. They would need load bearing gear, packs, and, if possible, even electronic communications. It was a good thing the goblins given to him could communicate with some issues. They would have to learn to speak clearly, or at least able to deliver precise and concise information. Still, it should be something that could be fixed with enough effort. Marcus did some mental math as he led the way. Ten thousand credits for each goblin for equipment and training should be enough for their level at the moment. Reaching the caved in part of the tunnel where they have to pass through the outer sentries, Marcus turned to his pair of green little mercenaries and declared. ¡°Alright. Take out those shotguns and I¡¯ll try to teach you both which end to point at the enemy at least.¡± CH 33: First Steps Gabs was happy. He was fed, paid, and armed. It was already nearing midday, and he hadn¡¯t been hit yet! They were lucky to be picked out from the dregs and finally out from the compost farms. Now, following one of the newly arrived humans, they have been given a chance to be one of the fighters. Fighters! Not workers like Duzz and Gyrh who spend their days wiping dust away from the noisy machines! Gabs clutched the double-barrelled shotgun as he followed along. It was newly bought from the station gunsmiths and was given to him, unlike the others who had to buy their own. Gabs should be proud, but he imagined it to be the other rifle showed to them by their new leader. They were different, and far more deadly. He promised it to be a reward for the goblin who earned it, and Gabs was determined to be that goblin. Fleex walked ahead of him, both trailing behind Hartdegen as they followed him through the rail tunnels leading to the farther lines. A twinge of fear struck Gabs as he had never wandered farther than the shrine nor the station gates without being in a group larger than ten, but Hartdegen led the way without a care with just the three of them. It must be true then, what they say about the man, him walking through the Malif¡¯s nest outside the southern lines, killing everybody in sight. Gabs was skeptical about Crug¡¯s story. When he got back, he claimed that he was there in the line and was part of the dead. Gabs always just assumed that he was an idiot, and a liar, but it seems that he was telling the truth. Gabs¡¯ mind wandered back to the gun. He wanted that gun; he wanted to be the best goblin working under Hartdegen, so he paced forward to go around Fleex and take his position in front of him. Fleex did the same. Soon, the two were fighting for their spot to be a step behind their leader, only for Gabs to bump into him and fall to his butt as he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Fleex fell too, and Hartdegen turned around and looked down at him. Gabs shut his eyes, expecting the coming blow, which never came. ¡°Gabs right? Alright. You two get up.¡± Hartdegen ordered, ¡°It¡¯s time to teach you two which end of the gun to point at the enemy at least.¡± Gabs scrambled to follow his orders. He was the first to get up, and he shoved Fleex to the ground as he tried to stand up, only to find a look of disapproval passed over Hartdegen¡¯s face. ¡°Yeah. You better not keep doing that. You¡¯re supposed to work together.¡± Hartdegen muttered, ¡°Next time, try offering your hand instead of pushing him down.¡± Gabs bowed his head, looking at his feet in shame, then flinching as Hartdegen lifted his chin. ¡°Keep your head up. Never look down when I¡¯m talking to you.¡± He said, turning to Fleex, ¡°You hear that? It applies to you too.¡± Hartdegen pulled his hand away and stepped back. Gabs followed, forcing his head up despite his instincts telling him to. He looked at his master. In the dark, the night vision device folded up on its mount looked much like the horns his elders told him humans wore back when he was still a runt and still living out on the surface. In the end, the stories turned out to be just that, stories. Their abilities to snatch life like the passing of the wind was due to their weapons and their uncanny ability to find them was due to another device his master held preciously in his person. Word slowly spread, but the more they learned about the old masters of the surface, the less they seemed to be like the gods they were told to be. They can die just like any of them. He saw two of the attackers at the gate fall under the fire of their charge, with the man in front of him claiming three on his own. ¡°Eyes front.¡± His master muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. Look forward,¡± He sighed. Gravel crunched as he walked along the two standing at attention. ¡°This is what you two are going to do. First, break open your shotguns. Then fish out a couple of shotgun shells and insert them in the chambers of your firearms. Third, close the action and make sure that you keep your fingers off the trigger.¡± ¡°Raise your weapons on your shoulders, and aim at the boulder right there. Can¡¯t hold it? Then raise it up above the target and slowly lower it to position. Make sure to line up the barrel and pull the trigger as soon as you center your aim. Do it. Fire.¡± Gabs¡¯s gun fired, and he felt its weight buckle his shoulder, forcing him to take a step back, his thin form unable to absorb the recoil. Still, he ignored the pain and instead looked at his target, smiling as he saw multiple pock marks embedded on the piece of concrete. and looked toward his master to see his blank expression. ¡°Good enough. I should get you enough practice time, but we can¡¯t at the moment. We need to be somewhere else.¡± He said. ¡°Don''t be afraid. Just keep looking at me.¡± Marcus said as he locked eyes with Gabs, who looked at him with terrified eyes. The goblin was one of his two goblin subordinates provided to him by the chief. With another grunt, he pulled the goblin into the locked room after they made their way through the Malif nest. Unlike the last time he went past the spot, there had been a short scuffle where one of the two goblins, he didn¡¯t know who exactly, freaked out after seeing the eyes peering from the darkness and shot blindly despite his orders to hold fire. The gunshot spooked the pack, causing them to attack only for them to regret quickly after, as Marcus was quick on the draw and retaliated with his own accurate fire. He downed a couple before the rest realized their mistake and fell back on their holes. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. After the firefight, Marcus let the two drag the corpses into a safe area and skin the beasts. Still, fire discipline would have to be another factor to be trained on, one more to be added on the growing list. Once more, Marcus wondered if he made a mistake, whether this venture was worth it or not. With another grunt, Marcus leaned back for the final pull as Gabs¡¯s head peeked over the hole in the floor for him and Fleex to stumble and fall on their asses. Marcus looked at Gabs as he heard a terrified yell and looked just as the goblin was failing to find purchase on the steel floor, causing him to slip back into the hole. With the height of the fall, he would be lucky just to be severely injured and Marcus scrambled to get up to help, but Fleex was faster and was already helping his fellow. Marcus followed and grabbed Gabs by his scruff and pulled. Gabs yelled in pain as Marcus pulled him out of the hole and dropped him on the floor. With panting breaths, Marcus looked at the two as they checked each other for injuries and stood at attention, awaiting orders. Marcus huffed, getting up. Impressed, he patted both in the shoulder as he walked across the room and opened the code locked door. ¡°You two guard this area. You have food and water with you. I¡¯ll be back later. Also, spend this time practicing about knowing your triggers and maybe I¡¯ll have something good for the two of you. Don¡¯t use the ammo.¡± He said, and the two nodded, looking excited. Marcus nodded back, turning towards the maintenance hatch and crawled into it. He was already regretting his promise to them, as it would only be another thing to keep track of. God knows he already had a lot on his mind and decided that food would have to do, maybe some sweet treats. ¡°Fuck me.¡± Marcus muttered as he crawled further, dragging the pelts they took from the Malifs tied with a rope to his waist. It should fetch him something at least to ease the expense and effort of killing them in the first place. On the ship, there is a secluded and relatively safe area behind the flea market for players to trade with each other. It was the equivalent of a Walmart parking lot when buying or selling to some stranger off Craigslist. ¡°It¡¯s a Romy G.¡± Marcus muttered, racking the bolt back. He gripped the AK¡¯s forward leaning wooden vertical grip, colloquially referred to as a ¡®dong¡¯ and pulled it snug on his shoulder, testing it. He then pulled the trigger and judged it to be working just fine. ¡°A what?¡± Flux replied. ¡°I told you it¡¯s a genuine AK, not even used, just looted. It¡¯s fully automatic and you can easily change it further to your specifications with the availability of parts for it.¡± ¡°You should tell that to someone else.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re trying to do selling a semiautomatic as a full one, but if you¡¯re only just starting out, then I suggest you stop it right now. Remember that reputation is always worth more than a few credits. For me, I know what I¡¯m buying and am willing to let this slide. God forbid you sell this to the wrong person falling for your bait and switch.¡± The player sighed, but didn¡¯t answer. Marcus could only shake his head at him as he didn¡¯t even have the poker face nor the double down attitude of a proficient scammer. ¡°How many do you have?¡± Marcus followed. ¡°A dozen, if you include that. Still packed in plastic and still in their crates.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take them. How much did you get them for?¡± Marcus said, already piecing together a likely story. ¡°1,800c each. I thought I had them for a steal but I never knew that they just turn out to be all semiautomatic.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take them off you for 1,500c.¡± ¡°But that¡¯s lower than I paid for it!¡± He whined. ¡°Al least let me break even!¡± ¡°There¡¯s no one buying them, by the looks of it.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°If they were flying off your hands, then you wouldn¡¯t have to try to lie to people to sell it. Just sell them to me. You might not know it, but I¡¯m practically doing you a favor here. As for the price? You knew what you¡¯re trying to do, so just cut your losses dude.¡± He cursed. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll have it brought down. A question though, how did you know?¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°The G that is painted on the left side of the rear sight block means Garda, which is a designation for a certain nation¡¯s patriotic guard. They are only built in semiautomatic, and the missing third pin on the receiver where the auto sear hinge around is also a dead giveaway.¡± ¡°What? I thought you just used a skill like everyone else. Are you like an AK expert or something?¡± ¡°Or something.¡± Marcus muttered, ¡°But that¡¯s not important. Let¡¯s just go to your storage and we¡¯ll make the transfer there. Go lead the way.¡± ¡°Alright. Follow me then.¡± He replied dejectedly. Marcus grinned. If he could, he would have pumped his fist in the air for his luck. Who would have thought that his experience browsing through Gunbroker and Craigslist turns out to be useful for him now. One moment, he was just scrolling through the black market listings and reading up on offers, and in another, already buying up crates of ¡®good enough¡¯ guns for Tiul¡¯s defenses. Still, it wouldn¡¯t be enough. The 50,000c credit was too little now that Marcus had an idea of how much it takes to bring up and arm a whole group. He should also take a loss too, given that the station falling would be a disaster. The station was his golden goose, and he needed to keep it from being taken away from him. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should ask but, you have anything else to sell? Guns usually come with ammo, you know.¡± ¡°We did have crates of it packed in tins, taken from another source, and that was sold much quicker.¡± ¡°Everyone needs ammo.¡± Marcus agreed. ¡°You need that shit more than a gun sometimes.¡± Marcus followed Flux as they weaved through the player run Flea Market. Nearby were cheap storage locations for players to keep their stuff if they didn¡¯t have a place of their own. It was like a storage lot, with 20 foot container stacked up to the ceiling. On the bottom, the owner would queue up on the crane and lower it into the ground floor for a fee, where it would stay there for a quarter of an hour before being hoisted back up in the stack. With the container on the floor, Flux opened the lock and Marcus stood back as he entered and dragged out an opened crate. Marcus opened it and there lay the rest of the semiautomatic AKs neatly placed in their spacers. The rest of the deal went smoothly, with Marcus sending Flux his 18,000c and him pulling the crate away in a hand truck. He made his way towards Stoner¡¯s armory. There, he should meet with Ylenka, who had just logged in and was practicing in the range. CH 34: From the other side
Attention!
You have been killed by player: Hartdegen
lvl: 15
Respawn in: 9s
Crusty waited as the respawn timer ticked to zero. He had spent the past hour looking in the net for what he could find about the player that killed him. Except for his placements on the ship¡¯s leaderboards despite his low level, he found nothing else. It was an accomplishment, sure, but what¡¯s strange is that despite with his name on the leaderboards, he does not seem to be affiliated with any clan.
Attention!
Respawn in: 1s
¡°Combat loadouts. Take as much explosives as you can. We need to get back on the station and press the attack before they shore up their defenses. Disfigured, take an AT-4 and save it for our dear friend.¡± Crusty ordered as soon as they respawned. They were back on their guild building inside UNCS Light of the Stars. It was their respawn point within what is considered by the game as private property and shielded knowledge of their deaths from prying eyes. Getting an entire team wiped out within a couple of minutes was rare, and it was the first time it ever happened to Crusty and his team. Usually, fights are drawn out, allowing both side¡¯s team medic to get the wounded back into the fight, but the attack on the station turned around so quick that they haven¡¯t had the chance to fall back and lick their wounds. Crusty had already run the situation prior to them getting wiped out and concluded that the main reasons for them being taken out was that they were under equipped for PVP. They haven¡¯t expected any problems which led them to tailor their load-outs for PVE and were taken by surprise in an unfavorable position. It was a mistake that would not happen again. ¡°I miss my VSK already.¡± Frostbite muttered as he opened his locker and took an HK MP5SD. The ported barrel and integrated suppressor allowed the submachine gun to fire silently to a point where the weapon¡¯s action could be the only sound heard. The man loved his integrally suppressed firearms and paid extra for the novelty. ¡°It¡¯s what you get for bringing that thing out.¡± Greed replied, pulling out an AK-74 with a GP-25 under-barrel grenade launcher attachment, followed by his plate carrier and a bandolier of 40mm grenades. ¡°What good is it to me if I just leave it here to collect dust?¡± Frostbite reasoned, ¡°At least I get to enjoy shooting it at much as looking at it.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll get it back.¡± Disfigured chimed in, retrieving an AKS-74U instead of his DMR setup of a PSL. He wanted to buy the Dragunov rifle that popped up in the market a week ago, but was outbid by an unnamed player. For a while, he tried to find out what he can about the unnamed player to hunt him for the weapon, but the gun never turned up since. ¡°You all ready?¡± Crusty called, and everyone nodded. ¡°Good, let¡¯s go then.¡± Everyone filed out of the armory and Crusty saw Demented standing on the side, giving him a look, signaling that they need to talk. He nodded to his brother, then turned to the rest of his team. ¡°You guys go ahead. Wait for me at the exit.¡± He said. ¡°I heard what happened.¡± Demented said, after checking that no one was near to overhear their conversation. ¡°You know it¡¯s not going to inspire the confidence you wanted among the leadership, especially when you declared that you can take it all by you and your team.¡± ¡°Mistakes happen. I just need to take the station for the guild. I can still do it.¡± Crusty replied. ¡°We just got unlucky. That¡¯s all. It won¡¯t happen again. I can do this!¡± ¡°I know, little brother.¡± Demented said softly, patting his shoulder. ¡°Honestly, I was kind of happy to see you step up on bigger roles, but you should know that it¡¯s also the job of the leader to know when to ask for help.¡± ¡°You saying I can¡¯t do it?¡± ¡°Of course you can do it. Just be careful, methodical. Fighting against players is a whole different league compared to mobs and NPCs.¡± Demented replied, ¡°You already made your mistakes, make sure you learn from it.¡± ¡°I will. I already have.¡± Crusty said, looking at his older brother with a sharp gaze. Demented sighed. ¡°Go ahead then. You should know that while the guild is still engaged with TAS, no one should notice what happened. If you want your own outpost, then make sure that you all have it secured by the time we finish. With my recommendations, you will have the station under your command if you do.¡± ¡°Then I better get going.¡± ¡°Good luck.¡± Crusty nodded and found his team waiting at the loading bay alongside the guild¡¯s JLTV. It was fitted with a remote weapon system armed with an M2 Browning machine gun mainly used for defense and fire support. It was sent back for more supplies to support the other guild members trying to take another location from another group and keep it for themselves. From the guild chatter, the defense was harder to crack than was expected, which led them to require resupply. ¡°What did he say?¡± Zim asked, ¡°Nothing. He just reminded me, that¡¯s all.¡± He replied. With the supplies loaded, Crusty and his team took their seats. He checked once more to make sure that everyone was squared away and made a headcount. Frostbite, their sniper/ infiltrator. His build and personal inclination to integrally suppressed firearms made him perfect for taking down enemies at a distance without their comrades knowing. Disfigured, their designated marksman. He loves his high caliber rifles and is able to connect shots at extended ranges with reliable accuracy. With the upcoming tunnels, he was forced to compromise with a simple AK-74 due to the tight confines of the tunnels not permitting extended ranged firefights. Zim, the only female in the group and also serving as their medic. She was armed with a PP-19 submachine gun that was based on the Kalashnikov design. Light and chambered to the common 9x19mm Parabellum cartridge, the weapon fit well for personal defense and could hold its own in an attack. Not that Crusty would even order her in the thick of the fighting, as doing so would only risk getting his medic killed. And finally, Greed, their assaulter and breacher. He was armed with another AK-74 with a GP-25 underbarrel grenade launcher. The launched grenades would do well in the tight confines of the tunnels. The only problem was that they were too expensive that they could only afford to have a few of them. He also carried an AT-4 slung on his back, just in case they find the need to penetrate through armor. As for himself, Crusty, an assaulter, was armed with an AK-12 assault rifle. It used the same caliber as the rest of the AK rifles in the squad, as caliber commonality has been a universal rule between all groups. Everyone crammed themselves inside the truck and sat alongside the crates of ammunition and explosives to sustain the current front. While the rest of his team was stuck to looking out through small viewing ports in the hull of the truck, Crusty took the seat by the Remote weapon system and booted it up. The vehicle rolled down the ramp and headed north. Using the displays and controlling the weapon with a joystick, Crusty scanned the building rooftops and windows for danger. The system¡¯s thermal imaging allowed easy target acquisition, but there were no targets present, likely cleared out by the guild to make their rear lines safer and easier for their logistics to go through unmolested. Soon, the streets became more familiar. They passed by buildings they have long scouted and made sure was clear until they arrived at their station. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± The driver said as they rolled up on a ruined structure. It was the entrance to an underground station open to the surface, which, unlike the Songbird, was not buried under a collapsed high rise building. Crusty and his team dismounted. They all paused, looking into the abandoned station, and exchanged sharp looks. They then nodded and descend the escalators leading into darkness. Their weapon lights revealed missing steps off the escalator platform and they hopped over the gaps, and dead creatures caught coming out of the underground. Currently, they have not respawned, which meant that the path ahead should be clear. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. They reached the bottom of the escalators with their lights stabbing through the darkness. Underground, any source of light would give them away to anyone in the darkness easily. Good thing that they came prepared. ¡°Game face on boys and girls. They are likely expecting another attack, lets not repeat the last time.¡± Crusty said, lowering his NVGs to his eyes. The pitch darkness gave way to shades of green, and with the help of IR illuminators, could see objects farther than if he used a flashlight instead. Pillars lined the length of the smaller underground station. Stained and weathered posters lined the tiled walls of the station from years of disrepair. Crusty and his team passed by the relics of the old days past and hopped into the rails, walking alongside it. With his rifle raised, Crusty alongside Greed stepped ahead while Frostbite, Disfigured and Zim stayed behind to cover them. ¡°Clear.¡± He said as he reached a pylon and kept his aim forward. ¡°Move up.¡± ¡°Moving.¡± Frostbite replied, moving forwards with Disfigured and leapt ahead of Crusty and Greed while they covered. They then stopped, reported clear up ahead, causing Crusty and Greed to leap past them. Zim covered their rear, and slowly, they headed towards their objective. Their pace was much slower than the last they had been in the tunnels, but it was the only way to travel in relative safety when expecting enemies up ahead. Adding from guns loaded with armor piercing munitions, they also made sure to equip expensive PVP gear. Lvl 4 Armor plates protected their vitals in the event their shields fail, allowing better chances for survival and for their medic to pull them out and patch them back together to get back on the fight. They also packed extra ammo for extended firefights as when they eliminated the players helping defend the station, they still need to bring the remaining goblins to heel. ¡°Movement.¡± Frostbite whispered through their radios, raising a hand and took a knee. From his position, Crusty couldn¡¯t see anything, so he hustled forward next to the infiltrator and stared ahead where he pointed. Up ahead, he could see that they were coming up to the intersection in the rails, where the north-south rail met with the west-east. In the mouth of the southern intersection, a goblin crouched on the side hidden partially by a control box and was peeking deep into the darkness using its natural nigh vision but could not see them. Slowly, Crusty ordered everyone to back off, and they regrouped out of sight of the sentry. ¡°What¡¯s the play?¡± Frostbite asked as they all gathered up. ¡°We have to take him out, silently. Frostbite, use your MP5. Don¡¯t miss.¡± ¡°Would have been better if you had your VSK.¡± Greed snickered. ¡°Stow that shit, Greed. It¡¯s all behind us now. Thinking on what-ifs will do us no good.¡± ¡°Got it. Sorry, man.¡± Greed said, apologizing to Crusty then turning to Frostbite. ¡°No problem.¡± Frostbite replied. Crusty watched the two and nodded. ¡°So that¡¯s the plan for now. We need to get as close as we could to their lines without alerting them. If you identify human players, you don¡¯t need to ask for permission and just lay it all on him. Just make sure that you kill him, since we can¡¯t afford to have him get healed while we grind their defenses down. Got it?¡± Everyone nodded and moved into their designated position. Frostbite went ahead, flicking his selector to burst and aimed down the track. Kneeling by the center supports, he fired. The MP5SD¡¯s report sounded nothing louder than a muffled sneeze. Save for the weapon¡¯s action cycling, the weapon is as silent as it could be. As for the target, Crusty watched as the rounds landed center mass. The goblin fell out of sight dead, but its fall triggered a set of prepared noisemakers. Crusty saw it too late. A thin length of string was tied to the now dead goblin, on the other end was a cluster of cans which fell and clattered on the floor. Against the still silence of the underground, the sound carried far and clear. They knew something was coming now. Within a second, Crusty weighed whether it would be worth it to continue the attack. If they do retreat, they would allow the defender more time to shore up their defenses and make it much harder for the next attack. No. Crusty couldn¡¯t afford to back out now. What else could someone willing to sacrifice one of their own as an early warning device could do, given the deviousness and disregard? They have to take the station now, before more diabolical traps and defenses could be prepared. ¡°We keep going.¡± Crusty said. He looked at everyone in their team as they nodded. They continued down the line to see firelight coming from a campfire set in the middle of the tracks. Further ahead of them were sandbag positions where defenders can find cover. Just as Crusty suspected, they moved their defenses further away from the station and made another line. Corpses of Malifs were scattered on the tracks in front of the sandbag line. Far behind the sandbags, Crusty caught a goblin running further towards their back lines. He couldn¡¯t see the defenders, but he knew they were just hiding, listening as the tunnel was dead silent, that even that they could hear the fire crackling and the distant water trickling into a puddle. Crusty signaled for Greed to use a grenade. They needed one to flush them out. The distance was too far for a simple grenade throw with the campfire between the lines, illuminating the surrounding darkness. A goblin head then popped over the cover for a curious peek for it to be rewarded by a bullet instead. Crusty didn¡¯t need to know who shot. It was Frostbite. If there was any signal for the start of the fight, that was it. Greed shot the grenade at the center pillar behind the sandbags. The 40mm grenade exploded on impact and showered the defenders with deadly shrapnel. Crusty signaled for the rest to open up as he pulled the pin and ran towards the line. Reaching the edge of the firelight, he threw the grenade and watched its arc. Aided by the running start, the grenade landed behind the sandbags, showering the defenders once again with a flurry of shrapnel. Shouldering his rifle, Crusty charged ahead, capitalizing on both the destructive and concussive effect of the grenade. The others followed, and they all reached the line, rifles up. Goblins, untouched by the fragments, retreated only to be shot in the back. Others who were stunned and wounded by the blast but still survived were killed where they lay. Seeing it clear, the team went forward, stepping over the dead bodies of Malifs killed by the defenders, when he heard a sharp crack and was suddenly covered with dust and gravel. ¡­ Crusty came to a couple of seconds later. He was on the ground, looking up at the dark tunnel ceiling lit by the meagre firelight. His helmet was gone, blown away by the blast. With a grunt, he tried to get up only for his leg to collapse under his own weight. He looked at the limb and saw it torn. The blast shattered his shields, mangling his exposed flesh while his vest saved him from being killed instantly. Around him, he could see other figures scattered on the floor, unmoving. His ears rang, muffling the elated shouting of the goblins surging forwards. To the side of the tunnel walls, he could see more goblins coming from behind them. The figures on the ground moved. His teammates were still alive, save for one. Greed lay on the floor, unmoving; he was the closest to the explosion and was the only one taken out by it while everyone else was simply wounded. ¡°Fall back!¡± Crusty said, knowing their position was indefensible. Broken, surrounded, and caught in a trap, there was simply no way the four wounded with an unknown extent of injuries could sustain a firefight against a suicidal enemy. Demented was right. He shouldn¡¯t have underestimated them. Raising his rifle, Crusty took out the first goblin to jump above the sandbags. It held a savage knife in its hands as it pounced through the darkness, but the burst of fire caught him in the chest. He landed on his feet but collapsed on the ground, giving Crusty a sliver of hope as he shifted his aim to cover for the rest of his comrades. Frost came to and tried to get up, but he, too, collapsed. ¡°Alright. Just leave me.¡± He said, rolling to his back and shooting at the advancing tide. There were just too many of them. They shifted, ducked, and dodged their aim, using their small size and agility to confuse them away from hitting their shots. They jumped in and out of cover to make sure that they get close while other goblins with guns maneuvered to get a clear shot and take them out at a distance. These were not the goblins they had grown used to fighting. ¡°Fuck! Fall back.¡± Crusty repeated. Firing at the mass. His hopes of fighting them back were now dashed. All they could do now was to get out with as much of them alive. ¡°I¡¯m dead.¡± Disfigured replied, ¡°I¡¯m a goner.¡± He pulled out a grenade as a group of goblins converged around him and lunged at him with daggers. His figure exploded along with the group that surrounded him, showering the tunnel with bits of meat and an atomized mist of blood. Zim couldn¡¯t reply. She tried to get up and fight back, only to be peppered by a volley of shotgun shots. With her shields gone, she was shredded by the wall of lead and fell lifeless on the ground. Crusty crawled over to the only cover he could find. The center pillars gave him a few seconds of life, but he could hear the beating of feet coming closer, along with the excited and furious chitters of the goblins. They were coming for him. He peeked around the corner and caught one of them in surprise and took him out with a burst of fire. Crusty ducked back into cover, not even bothering if it killed his target, just before a wall of buckshot missed him by a hair. There was no way out. It was his last stand. He then readied himself for the last valiant push into the fray when a small object landed near him. He didn¡¯t even have a chance to have a good look at it when it exploded with a bright flash and a loud, deafening sound. The bright flash burned into his eyes and could see nothing but darkness, he could hear nothing but the ringing on his ears and his vision returned a couple of seconds later only to find a goblin, much better clothed than the rest look down at him and point as shotgun on his face. Another bright flash and he saw the system message that he always hated.
Attention!
You have been killed by a Goblin Enforcer with a Mossberg 590. Warning: Due to multiple deaths in a day, Level is decreased by 1.
You have levelled down to 30!
Respawn in (3599s)
The triumphant yells of the goblins echoed down the tunnels. The attackers are dead, and the celebratory mood went down the line and to the station proper like a wave. Bo sighed, letting his rifle dangle from its sling, and looked down at the detonator at his feet. He had expected a follow up attack to come, but not this fast. They were just figuring out how to extend their lines farther to create layers of defense but were caught unaware, which forced Bo to use all the planted explosives. The traps did their job. Crusty and his team walked right into it, but Bo knew that it would be the last time it would work this well. He only hoped that whatever Hartdegen had planned, it would not end with all their hard work wasted. CH 35: Buying in ¡°Just curious. If I get intimate with another player and I tell you to go away, will you do it?¡± ¡°No. My task is observation and does not conflict with any intimate actions you perform with your chosen mate. We will however respect your privacy and delete the footage in our databanks.¡± ¡°Just in the game, right?¡± He asked, growing concerned. ¡°You¡¯re not going to be snooping in my room, right?¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good. I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡± Marcus replied, then opened the door to the range. ¡°I think we¡¯re done talking.¡± He found Ylenka inside, her rifle on her shoulder and shooting at the targets fifty meters away in a standing position. She took her shots slow and deliberate, ringing the 12-inch plates for every round shot downrange. Marcus waited, watching Ylenka as she emptied the rest of her magazine. She turned, glancing over at the intrusion. ¡°Good job.¡± Marcus said as he approached. ¡°You¡¯re getting consistent. It¡¯s no longer a dice roll whether you hit your shots or not.¡± ¡°Thanks to you, it would have taken me a lot longer if not for your help.¡± Ylenka replied, flicking her rifle to safe. She removed the magazine and started loading it up from an ammo can filled with loose ammunition sitting on the table. ¡°You need anything?¡± ¡°Come on.¡± Marcus drawled. ¡°Why would you ask me that? I could just be checking up on you.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± Ylenka chuckled, ¡°All the times I¡¯ve seen you, you¡¯re always running around doing something. So it¡¯s safe to assume that you¡¯re here for a reason. Am I wrong?¡± Marcus paused, refreshing his memories, only to confirm that she hit the mark. After getting the job from Columbus, Marcus had been too busy doing jobs for other people, and now himself, that he didn¡¯t even have time to do his personal quest.
Pending Quest:
Ylenka chuckled, waving for him to go on. ¡°Alright.¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°I need proxies to buy me ammo on the down low. It¡¯ll be at a cost plus basis so as to not waste your time. I¡¯m going to need around ten thousand rounds. The more you get me, the better, but I¡¯m on a budget.¡± Marcus said, ready to say goodbye to his earnings from the past two days. Ylenka shrugged, then answered. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°So we good?¡± ¡°One question first. Are they for a quest?¡± Marcus rubbed his lips, thinking about how to explain it. ¡°I need hardware to help me keep things where they are at the moment. There are some, let¡¯s say, agitators that are trying to mess with something I¡¯m affiliated with. And I can¡¯t have that.¡± ¡°You know it would help a lot if you drop the ambiguity.¡± Ylenka grinned. ¡°You have enemies. You know we could help deal with that if you let us in. I do still owe you.¡± Marcus waved it off. ¡°It¡¯s too small for a group like yours. It¡¯s more like a schoolyard fight.¡± ¡°Then why that much ammo?¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°Let''s just say that I got a lot riding on this. I need them to bolster up some defenses and make sure that they don¡¯t crumble against a determined attack, but I don¡¯t need the information to get out to the public. Me setting up a buy order openly would get some attention I¡¯d rather do without. I want whoever is keeping an eye out to know as little as possible. All in case they might piece some sort of information from the scraps.¡± ¡°Care to give me an idea of who these people are? If I know them well, then I can help establish a mutual understanding.¡± ¡°The SRT clan.¡± Marcus replied. Short for Sable-Rock Tunnellers, his short research into the group had told him that they¡¯re one of the more active clans in the region and were trying to establish themselves as the top clan. They were going to be a tough nut to crack, but Marcus didn¡¯t need to defeat them outright, he only needed to harden the station¡¯s defensive positions to the point that no sane person or group would try to take it over for themselves. Ylenka frowned at the mention of the clan. Deep in thought, she tapped at the table absentmindedly. ¡°That¡¯s more than just a schoolyard fight. As far as I know, they¡¯re moving again to take the factory zone from a smaller guild, TAS, I think. Despite being outnumbered 2 to 3, the TAS are holding their own and both are locked into a stalemate. So now it boils down to who has the deeper pockets to keep the fight going.¡± Marcus nodded. The clan being engaged in a fight within their weight class could open up some opportunities. Whoever this TAS is, they¡¯d be unlikely to decline a helping hand. ¡°If they¡¯re in a fight, why isn¡¯t anyone trying to third party them?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure there are some, but whoever they might be, they are keeping silent about it.¡± Marcus nodded, finally developing a skeleton of a plan to deal with the SRT. Even if the central focus is defense, it didn¡¯t mean that they would only turtle up and take the blows as they came. It might work, or it won¡¯t. ¡°I think it¡¯s better to save your involvement till the end. It¡¯s good to have you as the trump card hidden in my sleeve, if you know what I¡¯m saying.¡± ¡°Not good enough. You can¡¯t have us waiting for your word to tell us when and where to jump.¡± Ylenka shook her head. ¡°So, how about this? Make sure you¡¯ll find us a place in your plan and I¡¯ll transfer a portion of our war chest into yours. If you can get me in the same fight as their best player, Demented, I¡¯ll even double it and give it to you right now.¡± Marcus perked up at that. ¡°How much are we talking about?¡± She shrugged. ¡°100,000c or 200,000c. Take your pick. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s something. If you could help me persuade the boys, then we could see that amount increase. I¡¯m sure they have some credits squirreled away to give you if you could convince them.¡± Marcus ran the numbers. Of course, unlike him, there are players who play the game for fun and would look for any excuse to fight. If he could find these players, Marcus could get those people or groups to buy in for a promised portion of the loot. Financial involvement, along with personal interest, would motivate the players to fight harder since losing would net them nothing. It would also act as a filter to weed out any player that is in it only for the benefits. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.Marcus looked at Ylenka and wondered what¡¯s going through her mind. Still, doing it all by himself would only end in failure. ¡°You know what? Fuck it. You¡¯re in.¡± Marcus said, offering a hand which Ylenka took and both shook on it. ¡°Let me write up the contract. I¡¯ll have it so that contributors will have their own shares of the total loot. That way, I won¡¯t just be taking your money and letting you all fight my battles for me. You¡¯ll have something out of it for your troubles too.¡± ¡°Contract? First time I heard of that in the game.¡± Ylenka replied, cocking her head. Marcus didn¡¯t need a second to decide that transparency would have to come both ways. She had shown her team and a portion of their capabilities, even willing to share their own resources. Keeping information from her would only hurt him in the long run. ¡°It¡¯s part of my unique job, Mercenary.¡± Marcus said, ¡°Except for my personal quest, it replaces my quests with the ability to write up contracts that NPCs and players can accept. It has its tradeoffs, since it puts all the load on me to look for and take the initiative in situations. It¡¯s working well for me so far, I think. I only hope that I don¡¯t end up getting ripped off at the end of it.¡± ¡°Even with what little I know of you, ripping you off would be very difficult.¡± Ylenka chuckled. ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence.¡± Marcus smiled then opened up his screen. ¡°Alright. Give me a second to write something up.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡± She replied, stepping to the tables. Marcus watched Ylenka as she loaded her rifle. She squared up to the target and raised the G36C to her shoulder, aiming down the sights. She breathed slowly, her finger tensed up as she put pressure on the trigger and fired, hitting the distant plate with an audible ding. Looking back at his screen, Marcus let the sounds of gunfire fade into the background as he started writing up a contract. He skimmed through his prepared templates and felt that none of them would do. ¡°Hey Scion, help me out here with the contract.¡± Marcus whispered. ¡°I am unable to help. Directly using my abilities to influence your decisions is considered as meta gaming, tampering with the gameplay, and thus is forbidden.¡± The scion replied. ¡°Well, fuck you too then.¡± Marcus mumbled absentmindedly as he pored through the conditions. Looking at the cost of materiel he expected in the operation, one million game credits should be a solid starting budget. Even before meeting with Ylenka, Marcus was ready to shell out half a million credits. Given his current side gig going on with Silvercorp, it allowed him to loosen his purse strings to invest in ventures that could pay dividends. For this one, it was either go big or go home. Knowing that he could find prospective players willing to join, Marcus priced 1 share to be equal to 10,000 credits, which should value Ylenka¡¯s team¡¯s contribution to 20 shares, while Marcus would have 80 for his own, 30 for being the leader and the one responsible for the operation along with his half million. Nodding at the basic template of the contract, Marcus started writing it up. ¡°Hey Ylenka. What do you guys call yourselves?¡± Marcus shouted through the measured gunfire. ¡°We go around by Honest Scribe.¡± Marcus nodded approvingly at the name. ¡®The name fits. Ylenka did say that she¡¯s some curator in a museum.¡¯ He thought to himself as he put in the finishing touches.
Contract Information:
Shares awarded for every party will be thus:
1 Share for every 10,000c contributed to the total war fund.
At the end of the defense, majority shareholders will conduct a meeting where additional shares can be awarded depending on other unnamed contributions unmentioned above, such as exceptional deeds committed by players or groups. The shareholders will then hold a vote where, in the conclusion, shares will be awarded. Afterward, loot and quest rewards will be divided.
¡°Looks good.¡± Ylenka said after she read the contract. ¡°I won¡¯t claim to be an expert on contracts, but it¡¯s simple enough and doesn¡¯t have any obvious loopholes. I do wonder if you¡¯ll be able to collect on the penalties you¡¯ve written here.¡± ¡°It should,¡± Marcus muttered. ¡°It isn¡¯t some egregious penalty and even if the penalties aren¡¯t enforced by the game, it should scare players that sign the contract trying to mess up the operation.¡± ¡°And who¡¯s this third party?¡± Marcus grinned. With his right hand, he lazily pointed up, knowing the scion was still hovering over his shoulder. Ylenka looked up at the ceiling and frowned. ¡°You have to be joking, right? God?¡± ¡°Fuck around and find out.¡± Marcus smiled. Ylenka could only shake her head at Marcus. The door to the range then opened, and both glanced over to find that the rest of Honest Scribe had arrived. They entered and approached the two, curious. Marcus handed them the contract. Signing it as a group, Ylenka decided to hold a vote first, whether everyone in the group was fine with taking part in Marcus¡¯ operation. After some questions, he repeated the same spiel he said to Ylenka about his unique skill, extending to them the same level of transparency he had given to their leader.
Contract Alert:
CH 36: Gunrunning Six crates of 1220 rounds of 7.62x39 totaling for a little above 7000 rounds, priced for 7c each, A dozen rifles costing 1,500c each, four magazines per rifle, each costing 120c, load bearing gear for twelve costing 1,200c each, he could buy the cheaper ones but it risked losing magazines and explosives which are much more expensive in the long run. Rations 2,000c, uniforms, the only item where he could reasonably skim at buying ponchos that cover most of the goblins¡¯ bodies; 1,000c. Marcus sighed. All of it with the guns and ammunition took off a good chunk of their available funds. More were spent on explosives, with meds taking up a large amount of budget too, depending on the current prices. 3 crates containing 32 frag grenades for 25,600c, a crate of flashbangs for 23,600, and a crate of smoke grenades for 16,000 totaled up around 125,000c. They also have to buy everything in multiple batches and transport them sneakily as to not arouse any suspicion from the ship administration and watchful players along with not spooking the market. Marcus¡¯ initial estimate of 10,000 each fighter was beyond optimistic, even bordering the fantastical. The right estimate should be double or triple that at the minimum, where it would only bring the bare minimum of equipment. The total amount slated, if converted into MRC, would net him around 220 MRC, equivalent to four day¡¯s pay and was enough to buy a decent phone and amounted to a tenth of what he paid for his pod. Still, even with the amount slated on equipment, it felt like it still wasn¡¯t enough. This time, they were going into an arduous battle to defend a territory. It wouldn¡¯t be a single scuffle, and if he used clan fights to gauge how this would probably turn out, it would be a long slow grind until one party breaks or runs out of the ability to keep fighting. He needed more funds. Which meant that he needed to buy more people in. He still got more shares to spare, and if Marcus didn¡¯t need to shell out more money, the better. Marcus sighed and racked the charging handle on his newly acquired VSK-94. He looked through the PSO-1M2 sights and watched as the distant target was magnified to four times its size with the lit chevrons etched on the glass pointed at the center of the target. The glass was clear enough, but not the best he had the pleasure of using. Still, he used the built in rangefinder and calculated the distance between him and the target. It was a little short of 200 meters. Using the proper holdovers, Marcus fired and felt the minimal recoil from the weapon. As for the report, it was a little louder than a sneeze, along with the much louder clanging of the action. ¡°Hit. I guess you¡¯re not just a punk kid after all.¡± Slushy called, watching the bullet splatter against the target with his binoculars. He was the guy who drove Marcus away the first time he visited the extended shooting range and was also there when he visited. One look at the rifle slung on Marcus¡¯ shoulder and he laughed, asking him once again if he was lost. Marcus wasn¡¯t. He was in the extended range for a reason, and what seemed to be the easiest way was to get recognized by Slushy, who took it upon himself to be the gatekeeper of the place. As far as Marcus could see, he was a player and not an NPC, which made it doubly strange why he took the responsibility. Having dealt with Fudds back then, Marcus knew that the best way to deal with them was to either give them a what for, or just leave them be. So, instead, he challenged Slushy on a wager, if he could hit the 100, 150, and 200 meter targets five times each out of twenty shots with his subsonic rifle, he would get access to the range without Slushy giving him shit for it along with a crate of 7.62x39mm, knowing that the rifle was accurate enough and he could reliably take the shots. ¡°That and you owe me a crate of AK ammo,¡± he added. ¡°That too.¡± Slushy chuckled. ¡°The report on that thing is almost nonexistent, but the trajectory arc is just too much. A lot of people thought to buy and master it to start ¡®whispering death¡¯ but I just see the same rifle being sold on the market for cheap. Thought you¡¯d just be another one.¡± ¡°That so? I think I¡¯m already stretching its limits by going near 200 meters. At that range, these blue crayons should be able to punch through armor, but we¡¯ll see if it¡¯s up to snuff outside.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°With how well you¡¯re shooting with that, I¡¯m sure you can consistently hit targets up to 600 meters with a proper rifle, maybe even take a few of the top shots a run for their positions.¡± ¡°Oh yeah? Care to tell me then?¡± Slushy pointed over the end of the range to the board with names written all over it. ¡°First place to third is Dark with his HK PSG-1 taking out targets at 800 meters reliably and beating both Crusher and Demented by mere points with their PSL and M110. The names should be familiar.¡± Marcus could almost smile. ¡°They ring a bell. Demented especially. What can you tell me about him?¡± ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± ¡°He thought he¡¯d like me in his clan. I thought I¡¯d do my homework first.¡± ¡°When was that?¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°Two, three days ago? He approached me with his M110, a Glock with a red dot. I don''t know the exact model since it''s in a leg holster and looked like he was ready to walk in the middle of a parade with all the bells and whistles hanging off him. Told me I would be taken care off if I join them and I told him I¡®d think about it, and still thinking now. So what can you tell me about him?¡± ¡°As much as anyone else here, I guess.¡± Slushy shrugged. ¡°Good shot, patient shooter. He waited around an hour for the winds to get right and line up the perfect shot. He was trying for his longest shot with his rifle at 1200 meters and hit it. Good with the pistol too, but not as good as you seem.¡± ¡°What about the clan? I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen enough of them pouring through here and should have a good enough measure of who¡¯s coming up with their promises.¡± ¡°SRT is good enough. The best clans have moved out quite a few weeks ago into new lands and they are just following in their footsteps. Take out the ones that have gone, then you can count them as the top five in the region. Other than that, I don¡¯t know what to tell you.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Seeing that Slushy wasn¡¯t getting forthcoming on the information, Marcus checked his watch. ¡°Alright then. Thank you for your time.¡± He said. It was time. Rex and Anna were about to meet with him in the Smoking Barrels to listen to what he had to pitch with the two of them. If it went well, then he would have a couple more fighters under contract. The only problem would be in keeping them in line and not deviating from the plan. Of course, Marcus supported some personal initiative, but it would have to follow with their overall plan. Standing up, Marcus nodded to the man and headed out of the long range course and back into Stoner¡¯s armory. With heavy, laden steps, Marcus led the way through the underbelly of the ship. Behind him, Anna, Rex, and Ylenka trailed a step behind, also carrying their own packs laden with a portion of the hardware. The going was slow. Marcus had to make sure that their small procession hadn¡¯t been followed while making sure that they were keeping on the right heading. Still, they arrived. Marcus recognized the access cover recessed in the corridor ahead and looked back at the rest to wave them forward. ¡°This is not what I expected when you said you had an OP planned.¡± Anna whined as she adjusted her pack. ¡°What were you thinking?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°Like when we attacked the ambush alley, that scav base on the ramp!¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Ylenka chimed in, panting from the weight. ¡°That was you? You guys were the ones who took them out?¡± ¡°Yeah, he even got a unique weapon from it. What happened to it anyway?¡± Anna replied. Marcs shrugged. ¡°I gifted it.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s the lucky girl? Or man. We¡¯re not judging.¡± Anna teased. ¡°Uh-huh. I thought girls are more interested in dumb shit like flowers and jewelry, not guns.¡± Marcus grunted. Hearing a startled gasp from both the female members of the team, Marcus threw his pack into the old maintenance shaft and followed it before he heard a retort. Seeing him dive headfirst, the rest of the team followed his cue and crawled into the shaft. Already, Marcus thought about taking down a torch along with a few canisters of gas to cut through the interior walls of the ship. It would be much easier and much safer if he could make a door instead of just a hidden hole in the wall to crawl through. He got to the other side and looked up to see a barrel of a gun. The barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun never looked as big in his life. Marcus felt ice run through his veins and he looked over the barrel to see the terrified face of Gabs peeking over the cocked hammer. A look of recognition passed through the goblin, and Marcus slapped the barrel away from his face. The sound of the gun clattering against the metal floors woke the other goblin, Fleex, sleeping in the corner under a pile of rags. He shot awake, gun at the ready and finger on the trigger. For the second time in just a minute, Marcus cringed as he expected the gun to go off as the goblin muzzle swiped the both of them. Luckily, Fleex caught his senses quickly and pointed the gun away before anyone got hurt. ¡°Remember. The fucking signal is a bag thrown out of the hole first.¡± Marcus scolded the Gabs, then to Fleex. ¡°And you. Never swipe your barrel over your comrades.¡± Both looked down at the scolding and Marcus was about to tell them off again to keep their head up when they both beat him to it and looked up on their own. Good, at least some lessons were coming through. Marcus sighed. ¡°Alright. Even though the two of you did fuck up, you both did something right. You, Gabs, good job for being alert and on the ball when it called for it. But always make sure to differentiate between hostiles and allies. And you Fleex, it¡¯s good that you reacted quickly when you heard something was wrong, but always make sure to know what¡¯s happening first before you start waving your gun around. Here,¡± He said, throwing both of them each a bar of chocolates. The two caught it in their hands, then looked up at him with curiosity. ¡°Now. We got more friendlies coming out of this hole, so make sure you don¡¯t shoot them. Alright?¡± Marcus continued, and the two nodded. Marcus waited and looked down the hole to find a duffel bag plugging the hole. He could also hear a muffled string of curses uttered every for every panting breath and was impressed how Anna could have such a colorful vocabulary. The bag popped out of the hole and was followed by Anna¡¯s head. She looked up with a face caked in dirt and oil. She looked up at him with a look sharp enough to cut him in half, but Marcus only smirked and offered his hand. ¡°You better make all of this worth it Hartdegen, or I swear I¡¯ll return it to you tenfold.¡± She said through clenched teeth as she took his hand. ¡°Come on! You¡¯re the girl who likes adventure, right?¡± Marcus asked, pulling her up, all the while wearing a shit-eating grin She grumbled and stepped behind Marcus, only to pause and reach for her weapon. Marcus caught her wrist before she managed to pull it out and warned. ¡°Careful. We¡¯re all friends here. See? They¡¯re cool, and you¡¯re cool. Right?¡± Marcus said smoothly. Surprised, Anna looked up at him, then at the goblins, and nodded. The two goblins were getting agitated from the new arrivals and, with a sharp glance, he confirmed they won¡¯t be making any stupid moves. Marcus let go of Anna and placed himself between them. ¡°You asked who I gave the PKM to? Then there¡¯s your answer.¡± He said. ¡°How? NPC auxiliary forces are just supposed to be kept in territories. Taking them out would cost a lot more depending on the levels.¡± ¡°Maybe I just knew whose palms to grease.¡± Marcus replied, and she finally relaxed. He then kneeled over the hole and shouted. ¡°Hey! There are other friendlies in here other than us. So don¡¯t get surprised and reach for your gun okay?¡± A muffled affirmative reply from Ylenka and she came through the hole with the wide-eyed look of a tourist seeing things for the first time. She then saw the goblins and took a startled step back, but didn¡¯t reach for her gun. She nervously sent a look at Marcus to which she nodded. Rex was the last through muttering about dumb secret base entrances. He got out and after seeing all of them crammed into a small room, only grunted as he confirmed the goblins were friendly. ¡°Alright. Briefing time. Everyone meet Gabs and Fleex. They work for me. You two, meet Anna, Ylenka and Rex, they are working with me. Make sure you guys get along since we¡¯re all aiming for the same goal here.¡± ¡°What are we working for exactly?¡± Anna asked, ¡°We only followed you this far because of our bit of history, but I think it¡¯s time you tell us.¡± Marcus nodded, then looked to the corner of the room where a small stove warmed up a battered aluminum pot and a cup. Suspecting it to be what it was, Marcus waved for the goblins to serve him one. With a sip, he confirmed it and handed it to Anna. She took a sip, and with a wide eye, passed it onto Ylenka. ¡°I see.¡± Ylenka muttered, sipping the cup and quickly connecting the dots. ¡°You¡¯re the source. The timing makes sense.¡± ¡°The only one.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Long story short is that we¡¯re still having some growing pains. I just needed some muscle to keep it sailing smoothly. Of course, I still owe you guys a much more detailed brief, but since the rest of Ylenka¡¯s team is out doing recon on the clan and since I¡¯d rather not repeat myself, we would have to schedule it another time. So right now, we¡¯ll go to the other room where we¡¯ll lower you guys to the tunnels and then it¡¯s a straight shot to where the rest of these goblins live. It¡¯s better if I just show the things I can then tell them. That good?¡± Everyone nodded. ¡°Anyone here got any climbing experience? No? Okay, line up then. Rex, you¡¯re first. Make sure you have your shoes tied and zippers up. There shouldn¡¯t be anything there but make sure. After the all clear, the goblins are next down, then Anna and Ylenka. Also, I don¡¯t think I have to tell all of you to keep this route to yourselves. The only reason you¡¯re the only one allowed to come with me is that the route requires everyone to be under level 20.¡± ¡°Is that a quest or contract thing?¡± Anna asked. ¡°Better if I just show you.¡± Marcus replied. CH 37: Gratitude The short trek through the tunnels was uneventful. Marcus checked the Malif nest that had given enough trouble to be wary only for him to find only hours old tracks and nothing else. He could only assume that they had moved due to the increased traffic of heavily armed men passing through their nest and it would only be prudent to move instead of being wiped out. As for the Goblins¡¯ outer lines, they didn¡¯t expect a small procession of men and women along with a pair of goblins to walk through their post. Unlike the open hostility they showed whenever Marcus went through, they stayed their hand and only sent him open glares, all of which Marcus promptly ignored. ¡°They didn¡¯t like you much, did they?¡± Anna asked as soon as they got outside of earshot. ¡°I didn¡¯t really introduce myself in the friendliest manner the first time I went past their line.¡± ¡°Got into a bit of a scuffle?¡± ¡°A bit.¡± Marcus shrugged. Then looked ahead as the ever present candlelight lit the tunnel up ahead. ¡°This here is the reason I said before.¡± Marcus said, surprised to see the turret lowered from its recess and being worked on. Marcus recognized Bo from the distance standing on a ladder and arms deep into the weapon¡¯s internals. His pair of goblin helpers were there, looking up and holding tools for him like how children help their dads whenever they are working their cars. ¡°Hey! Whatcha doin¡¯?¡± Marcus called as they came closer. Startled, Bo smacked his head against the turret¡¯s armor and grunted from the pain. Slower, he pulled his head back and looked over at Marcus¡¯ group. ¡°Hey. Just thinking if I could move the turret.¡± Bo answered. ¡°Happy to see you bring some backup.¡± ¡°I brought a little of something else, too. I ran them here as fast as I can.¡± Marcus replied, gesturing at the others. ¡°Names are Ylenka, Anna and Rex. Everyone, this is Bo, he keeps this place running.¡± ¡°Nice to meet you all.¡± Bo replied and nodded. His gaze then panned over the filled packs. ¡°That¡¯s more than a little, and I¡¯m sure the Chief will be happy. Since we just got attacked.¡± ¡°Seeing you here, I hope it¡¯s already been dealt with?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°For the moment.¡± Bo nodded. ¡°We had to use your explosives. In the end, they all got wiped out. The chief is both happy and worried at the same time. You being here would likely put him in better spirits.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure.¡± Marcus replied, grinning at the rifles and thousands of ammunition divided between their packs. ¡°Then we better get going,¡± He said, nodding. Not wanting to startle the rest of the station with the arrival of other humans, Marcus waved for the two goblins forward. ¡°You two, find the chief and tell him that I¡¯m here with the stuff, and that I brought some people with me. Go.¡± Unlike the last time they left the station, the goblins are now armed with a couple of the Romy Gs taken from the haul. After taking off his holographic sight and side-rail, He had exchanged his own AK, for the both of them, which should be good enough of a trade. The two also wore brand new Alice Packs underneath their German Flecktarn ponchos which covered all of their bodies. The two ran off to follow the orders, and Marcus watched the two. The four of them instinctively formed a circle in the hall despite it being in the middle of a relatively safe area. It allowed Marcus to have another chance to take a look at his team¡¯s cohesion and nodded as everyone took a defensive position, even without him giving orders for them to do so. It was the main thing Marcus worried about since you can¡¯t just mash a group of people together and expect them to work together well. Also, being strung up tight could also have its own debilitating effect of unnecessarily tiring them all out, but it should do for now. ¡°That lvl 6 spider turret could take out players up well past level 30, I think.¡± Rex muttered for a while, ¡°I read it up in some forum, some guy at lvl 38 complaining how OP it is getting one shotted by the turret in one of his raids.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t doubt it. Motherfucker one shotted a fully charged assault energy shield and still have some juice left to nail the guy holding it.¡± Marcus replied, remembering the time Columbus took a hit for him. But before he even managed to finish his thought, Marcus already knew he made a mistake. The rest had their full attention focused on him, waiting for him to tell the story. With the words already out, Marcus couldn¡¯t do anything about taking it back, and so told the story of how Columbus and he found the location. Marcus made sure to sterilize the details by washing over specific details and being vague whenever he can. It didn¡¯t take away much from the telling of the story and it kept everyone occupied long enough for the chief to arrive with his entourage. The chief approached and saw the group gathered. After giving everyone else in the party a cursory once over, he nodded, then waved them to follow him and turned to lead the way without checking if they complied. They were led straight through the market, with fewer goblins roaming around, and into the armory where a pile of gear was laid out on the table. Marcus signalled for the rest to put their packs on one of the empty tables as the chief signalled for Marcus to check the weapons out. Turning them over, Marcus could see some serious firepower gathered by the attacking men, and he was put into the position of being the station¡¯s de facto gun expert. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Marcus picked up the MP5SD and locked the bolt back. It was clear. He looked over the bullets in the magazines expecting to see the normal ball ammunition, and was surprised to see the black tipped armor penetrators loaded in all the magazines. He then checked the tags on the side and saw the same names as the ones he had killed. If the timing was right, it meant that they had rushed to the location the moment they respawned to try to attack the station, likely trying to capitalize on their initial damage only for them to be caught unawares by the explosives. ¡®Still, this could be serious.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself as he pulled one out of the magazine and handed one to Ylenka, who should know more about the ammunition in question. if not, then it would only be another thing to further look into. While Marcus was checking the drops of the attackers, the chief was checking out the bags and nodded at the stacks of Romy Gs along with Marcus¡¯ lone AKM lined up on the table. ¡°I got you some semiautomatic AK since I judged it better for your forces than the fully automatics. Still got one, though. I¡¯ll just say it chief, don¡¯t really think most of your forces should be equipped with the fun switches. They¡¯re more likely to miss their targets and shoot their own than hit what they¡¯re supposed to. If there would be any full auto need, dedicated machine guns would easily fill that gap.¡± Marcus said, pulling out the crates of steel cored 7.62x39mm. ¡°As for the ammo, we got you covered for some time. Remember, chief, these are pristine ammo straight out of the can. They are worth more and much more effective and reliable than what you¡¯re using here. We also got you some explosives and other stuff.¡± ¡°Is worth much more than first deal.¡± The chief said as he looked over what they brought. Marcus could only smile. Patting the older goblin, he replied. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, these people right here heard about your plight and decided to help by volunteering themselves for the effort along with their hard earned credits.¡± After hearing this, the chief rushed to the three and started to thank them profusely. He bowed at them, holding their hands and shaking them over his head. Marcus could only watch as surprised looks flashed between the three of them and they all looked at him with surprise.
Attention!
Relations with Chief Tiul have developed into: Close Friend! + 10 contribution points to songbird station.
The three were silent as the chief finished his thanks and stood on the side while Marcus finished instructing everyone present on how to use everything they brought. Done, Marcus noticed the looks everyone was sending him and signalled for the three to follow as he went towards Bo¡¯s shop along with the two trailing goblins. After letting everyone in, Anna suddenly squealed and jumped over Marcus¡¯ back. Alarmed, he leaned forward and grabbed the back of her neck and pulled down, tumbling Anna off him and slamming her forwards into hard concrete, stunning her. With a smooth motion, he pressed his knee over her chest, pressed a hand over her neck and pulled out his m1911. Loaded, cocked and locked, he only needed to flick the safety off and pointed it over to Rex, who already had his hand held over his head. Ylenka was slowly backing away from the man, but still kept herself within Marcus¡¯ sights. ¡®Okay? How¡¯d the fuck did I do that?¡¯ he first thought to himself, then to more pressing matters. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Marcus asked Anna, her face red, which he hoped was all from him choking her. ¡°Why¡¯d you do that for?¡± He asked, pulling away. ¡°Sorry. I just got excited!¡± Anna said, getting up. ¡°We just got 5 contribution points.¡± ¡°Okay?¡± Marcus replied, holstering his firearm. ¡°That means we could exchange it for 10,000 exp each! Depending on your level, that could get you at least 3 levels!¡± Anna answered, ¡°we could now power-level up to lvl 20 and get a new skill slot!¡± Marcus sighed, sitting on the ground. Levels are always good for any player and any way to power-level would be easily sought after. Maybe Marcus could use this new knowledge as another bargaining chip, but that would have to be for later. ¡°Well, I could use a free slot myself. What else is there to exchange contribution points for?¡± ¡°Depending on the level of the settlement, it could go from simple experience to a position in the organization.¡± Ylenka replied, ¡°So pretty much anything, really.¡± ¡°What else could this place need? I have another hundred on the bank and I¡¯m willing to use it.¡± Anna said. Marcus shrugged. ¡°Explosives? Claymores would be nice. Some plastic explosives, and if you could, a launcher with some grenades. But if you can get them, cheap comms shouldn¡¯t hurt.¡± Ylenka chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t hold your breath for 40mm. They¡¯re pretty much bought out whenever they show themselves in the market, and if they do, they¡¯re too expensive for anyone outside clans to even consider.¡± ¡°Then we can get creative with the explosives, I think. Alright. Anna, it would be good if you use half of your promise in machine guns, doesn¡¯t matter which and use the other half to buy as much ammo for them you can get, better if you stick to 7.62x39 or 54R so that they could share with what they commonly use here.¡± ¡°Got it. We¡¯ll be leaving then.¡± Anna replied, waving for Rex. ¡°You two, go with them and backtrack to the tunnels underneath the ship. Make sure they get past the sentry line and come back here.¡± Marcus ordered the goblins, who nodded and went to accomplish the orders. Anna and Rex followed them out, leaving Ylenka and Marcus. ¡°I hope it didn¡¯t excite you as much as she did?¡± Marcus asked, glancing over at Ylenka. ¡°Oh no.¡± Ylenka chuckled, ¡°don¡¯t expect something like that from me. Although I do need the same exp boost to catch up with the rest of my team, they should be getting the same notifications, I presume? Which reminds me, I also couldn¡¯t contact them with the game restriction. Do you happen to know a workaround?¡± ¡°Money transfer, with each amount corresponding to a letter¡¯s placement in the alphabet. It takes a while, but it works.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°You could also just wait and call them when we get back to the surface since we¡¯re going up top after the goblins come back anyway. We need to check up on what your boys got for us, then we¡¯ll see then.¡± ¡°Clever.¡± Ylenka replied, testing the methods Marcus instructed and found out that it worked. ¡°This will be safe with me, in case this method gets patched out. Also, Horn replied using the same method, and they said yes." ¡°Good.¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good. Let''s meet our new friends then.¡± CH 38: Meeting Marcus took a drag of his cigarette and checked the time. ¡®They should be close now¡¯, he thought to himself as he flicked the butt into the corner of the janitor¡¯s closet. It being deep inside the building they were hiding in with no ventilation or windows allowed for a safe place to smoke, which Marcus capitalized on in case something went down. He didn¡¯t need the shakes to come up when he¡¯s busy holding a rifle. ¡°They¡¯re here.¡± Ylenka declared, peeking her head into the room. ¡°Coming.¡± Marcus replied, following Ylenka as she led the way toward one of the rooms overlooking the streets. It was empty. Distant gunfire echoed in the distance and Marcus could see smoke trailing up further north amidst the smokestacks of the industrial district, with drab flat concrete buildings and tall chain-linked fences. ¡°There. In the alley between the two garages.¡± Ylenka said, lowering a pair of binoculars and pointing towards the location. Marcus raised his newly acquired VSK-94 suppressed sniper rifle and peeked through his PSO-1M2-1 4x24 scope he bought off Stoner and measured the distance between them using the built in rangefinder in the scope to find that they were 200 meters away, according to the lines. Marcus did some quick mental math, converting the meters to around 220 yards. He was still getting used to shooting in meters, which the scope was dialed in for and could use any practice he could get. ¡°I see them.¡± ¡°I¡¯m signaling.¡± Ylenka replied, pointing a flashlight in their direction and pulsing it on and off. ¡°They see you.¡± Marcus said, watching as heads snapped towards their direction and he could easily recognize the familiar faces of Ylenka¡¯s team. ¡°Okay.¡± she said, pausing as she listened on the radio. Deep into the north, they were surrounded by SRT clan members and so observed strict radio discipline. Even with encrypted radios, there was still a chance of them being listened on by a high leveled radio operator on the enemy side. ¡°They said they should be clear.¡± ¡°Get them in here then.¡± Marcus replied and watched as the transmission was received on the other side and the team moved through the streets with their lone hanger-on in tow. The man was part of the TAS, which meant for Track, Assault, and Squat, ¡®whatever that meant.¡¯ Marcus thought. Marcus followed the team as they weaved through buildings and wreckage until they crossed the streets separating them and went out of sight. Marcus gave a low whistle, which called the two goblins under his employ. Unlike the thin rags and barely operable shotguns they had equipped earlier in the day, Marcus had them fitted out with two Romanian Guard AKs and a couple of Flecktarn pattern ponchos. Seeing the green coloration of their covers against the gray backdrop of the ruined city, Marcus thought the color scheme might get them killed and decided to get them Urban digitals once he got back on the ship. It was an oversight, with him mainly thinking that they would be keeping to the underground. Turns out, he was wrong. With hoods up and rifles hidden under the folds, they could easily be mistaken for kids, which was one of the reasons Marcus chose the get-up. A second of hesitation could always save the smaller NPCs from catching a bullet. ¡°You two stay here and watch for enemies with Ylenka. I¡¯ll watch the doors for our guests.¡± Marcus said to everyone. With the team having not seen the goblins, there was a good chance of them shooting first, which is something Marcus wanted to avoid as he walked down the halls and waited by the steps. A while later, Marcus heard footsteps crushing loose dirt under concrete and could feel his skin crawl, as he had to be the person to call in the challenge for the coming team to come up with the countersign. ¡°Thunder.¡± Marcus challenged in a loud whisper. Whoever came up with the idea among these history nerds was not being coy or clever, but a total idiot. ¡°Flash.¡± came the response, almost eagerly. Marcus peeked around the corner to see their medic, holding the HK-MP5 tap one of the boys on the shoulder, wearing a proud smile on his face. ¡°Get up here, leave one of you to guard the entrance.¡± Marcus ordered, then went up to the floors. The TAS representative followed close behind. He was armed with a stock M4 rifle with a fixed front sight and a carry handle slung on his shoulder. He was the first one Marcus ever saw to rock a bare bones M4 despite his likelihood of being high leveled. ¡°The brothers up in base told me you¡¯re all here to help.¡± The man said as he followed, ¡°the enemy of my enemy is my friend type of situation.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Exactly that. They¡¯re not exactly being the best neighbors in our neck of the woods too.¡± Marcus said, being as vague as he could. He didn¡¯t know what kind of information Ylenka¡¯s team told the TAS guild, but it was still better if he made sure that any leak did not come from him. ¡°Since we got ourselves some breathing room, we thought we would make friends while killing our enemies.¡± The man nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. There¡¯s a lot of killing that needs to be done . The brothers sent me because I can point you in the right direction. Also, don¡¯t worry about taking care of me, I can take care of myself and it doesn''t matter if I die as long as we take more of the SRT out in the end. ¡° ¡°That¡¯s not really inspiring much confidence in me, young man.¡± Marcus said, ¡°But since you said you can find the SRTs, we¡¯ll figure something out.¡± He said, then turned to the rest. ¡°Okay, everyone, make sure your hands are away from your weapons. I don¡¯t want any of you pulling something stupid out of your asses and cost me a lot of credits.¡± With a whistle, Marcus called the two goblins to come out of their hiding. The sight of their small forms coming around the corner first aroused curiosity but then guardedness as they finally recognized what was in front of them. Ylenka¡¯s team was fine, simply standing back at the sight of the goblins, but the TAS representative went for his gun. With a practiced motion, the kid¡¯s hand reached for the rifle¡¯s pistol grip and was already raising his rifle when Marcus¡¯ hand shot towards his sidearm. Muscle memory took over, his thumb unclipping the pistol from his holster just as he pulled it out and disengaged the safety while raising it to point towards his head. Cocked and unlocked, the barrel of a pistol pressed on the kid¡¯s head stopped him from doing exactly what Marcus considered to be incredibly stupid. ¡°You should listen to your elders, kid.¡± Marcus warned. ¡°I told you to keep away from your weapons.¡± ¡°You¡¯re fast, brother.¡± He smiled. ¡°Can I know your name?¡± ¡°Hartdegen.¡± Marcus said, putting the safety back on and holstering it. ¡°Yours?¡± ¡°Razer,¡± the kid replied, ¡°Say, your name is familiar.¡± ¡°Probably heard it in a storybook.¡± Marcus muttered, then turned towards his goblins. ¡°Gabs, Fleex. Head west and scout out the buildings. Hey MP5 guy, go escort them down to the ground floor. I don¡¯t want them getting shot by the guy waiting out front.¡± The MP5 guy nodded and left, followed quickly by the two goblins, who glanced back at him and gave a small nod. Marcus nodded back, watching them disappear into the corner before turning back to Razer, who was watching the goblins with wonder. ¡°You know, the MP5 guy¡¯s name is Seidel.¡± Ylenka chuckled, pulling out a roughly drawn map of the area she had been working on for a while. Marcus had been surprised to find out that maps of the area around the ship were pretty much nonexistent. There was nothing sold and anyone with a functional map would rather keep it to themselves than sell them. The void in the market might open up to an opportunity, but it was not something to be busying himself with at the moment. Razer hunched over the map and easily understood the landmarks. He pointed at their besieged base, tracing their route through the city and stopping over at the exact building they were in now. All Marcus knew about their base was that it was a factory that had been taken over by their clan, maintained, and was being defended against the SRT. So far, it¡¯s been holding out with both sides locked in a deadly and costly stalemate. ¡°This. Here.¡± Razer declared, pointing at a spot on the map. ¡°The roads around this area have been kept clear for their trucks to use this little avenue on the regular. It always has players patrolling it but we couldn¡¯t keep it closed since they always have a QRF ready to clear out any ambushes. Their cars are heavily armed and armored. They have urban survival kits installed on all their vehicles paired with vehicle borne Energy weapons, making them impervious to RPGs. Trust us, we tried knocking them out, but the only good news was that there are only a few of them available to the clan since they cost a lot to maintain.¡± ¡°Here,¡± he said again, pointing to another spot on the map, ¡°is where they always post up their snipers to try to harass us. Our counter snipers take care of them, but the effect is minimal. We can only get them to stop for an hour if we happen to get their sniper.¡± Another spot. Farther north into the city where a river ran through the city and connected to the nearby lake. ¡°Here is where the brothers think the next attack will take place. They have been probing at this location for a while, looking for weaknesses in the line. We only have a general idea of when it¡¯ll happen. Save for a spy or precognition, we won¡¯t know until they commit to it. As for direct support, we can tie up their QRF by attacking one of their positions. We can try to make it as convincing as we can, but they¡¯ll realize soon enough that it¡¯s just a diversion.¡± Marcus nodded and looked down at the markers on the map. He could feel the gazes of everyone in the room as he did his best to ignore them and focus on the choices at hand. The choices all had their advantages along with the associated risks. If they tried to hit their logistics, they could hurt them hard by taking out expensive materiel and might even take some for themselves, but it also risked the chance of getting caught up with their roving patrols. If they went for the sniper, he¡¯ll most likely have his own protection detail and they would end up in a firefight. Lastly, catching the suspected attack bore minimal risk but was dependent on the attack happening as they predicted in the first place. Marcus had to decide. Delaying now would only muddle his decisions, as doubts would creep in. He knew they could do this. Honest Scribe, Ylenka¡¯s team, was capable enough. The only thing left now was which approach to pick. Or if he should even pick one of those three, they could try to find another SRT¡¯s vulnerability to exploit too. Checking the map once more, Marcus noticed one of the locations was near an underground station. ¡°Alright.¡± Marcus grunted. ¡°This one. We¡¯ll do this.¡± CH 39: Attack ¡®War is the continuation of politics through other means.¡¯ The quote was from an 18th century general named Carl Von Clausewitz. Although Marcus hadn¡¯t read his works entirely, he found this quote was applicable to any conflict since the dawn of time. Tribes, kingdoms and empires always had something to fight for, either resources, influence, or safety. Marcus guessed that the reason the SRT Clan was attacking TAS was because of their territorial holdings, whether it contained resources they wanted, or it was the territory itself, the reason the two groups were fighting was between the two clans. For Marcus, it was for his own personal interest tied to the survival and continued rule of the Chief under his own station. He wanted to keep his position as the sole middleman for their main product, the tea, to the surface. If the SRT wins here, they would be the next target and would be powerless to resist. It was better to fight them here, while they have locked horns with another group of their own weight. They found the building the sniper was shooting from easily. The rounds impacting the building coming from the direction of the factory were an easy indication, with the number of bored players keeping it locked down being another. It was a four story square concrete structure. The side facing the factory was pockmarked with bullet impacts and a few large holes were punched into the concrete face where explosives had been shot. A loud boom echoed through the building. In retaliation, the TAS holed up in the factory complex replied with their own burst of heavy machine gun fire peppering the building. It was unlikely that someone had been killed in the brief exchange and Marcus guessed it was their own way of keeping each other on their toes. Using the alleys and buildings, Marcus managed to sneak into the building by entering the adjacent one and entered through the upper windows. He had to lighten up his load-out to the bare minimum. He had secured his VSK in a hidden location in favor of his DT MDR, and took with him three magazines and a few grenades to be able to confidently make the jump between the rooftop and into the window. To cover his entrance, he timed his jump into the building as another quick burst of heavy machine gun fire hit the building. Unfortunately, he jumped short and landed wrong against the windowsill, skinning his knee against hard concrete and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out. Recovering from the pain, Marcus got up and scanned his surroundings. He confirmed that his infiltration was undetected as no one came to check. The building, it turned out, was an old, dilapidated apartment complex. The halls opened up to small 25 square feet rooms and shared kitchens. The building likely catered to workers and technicians that had been working in the nearby factory complex. Marcus hid in one of the rooms. It had a bed, a small table with a few books left behind, and a single wardrobe. ¡°In position.¡± He reported through the radio. ¡°Affirmative. Operation is a go.¡± Ylenka replied through the radio. She was leading her own squad. Ylenka had been mum on their achievements in the game so far, only for Razer to let slip that they had established a solid reputation in the region. Now, Marcus was going to see whether they would measure up to it as they were tasked with taking out the Sniper¡¯s security detail or at the very least, keep them busy. ¡°Commencing.¡± A voice called through the radio. That belonged to Horn with the HK MSG90, the accurized version of the HK G3, and who was the team¡¯s designated marksman. His part as the overwatch also meant that he could pick the juiciest target and make sure that they were out from the start of the fight. A gunshot sounded from outside. Followed by panicked shouting as more guns entered the fray. Marcus was silent as he listened to boots thundering downstairs to help with the defense, along with more shouting and asking where the fire was coming from. The SRT clan members reacted quickly. Spotters found the building that Ylenka and the rest of the Honest Scribes were shooting from and retaliated with their own. Soon, a quick skirmish developed, with the two sides shooting at each other within the safety of their covers. Marcus waited for a few more seconds to make sure that the firefight was in full swing. In the distance, another firefight was occurring, which meant that the TAS was keeping another position busy, trying to bait the SRT¡¯s quick reaction force to another location. ¡°Watch your sectors! Make sure they don¡¯t try to flank us!¡± A shout echoed through the building. ¡°Fuck. Don¡¯t peek through that window, they have it locked down! Medic. I need a medic!¡± Another voice replied. ¡°Where¡¯s Steel! We need his machinegun online now!¡± ¡°Steel is down. I saw his head pop after his shields were shattered.¡± ¡°One is moving up. He just crossed the street! I don¡¯t have an angle!¡± ¡®Time to go.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself and moved out of the room. Gunfire erupted above him as he moved up the floors, rifle at the shoulder. Up one floor, Marcus stumbled along a player running from one end of the building towards the fighting. He carried belts of ammunition slung around his neck and ammo cans in both of his hands. They both saw each other at the same time and the SRT clan member paused, confused, after seeing Marcus come up the stairs. ¡°The fuck you looking at?¡± Marcus shouted. ¡°Get to your position.¡± ¡°Ammo! Where¡¯s my ammo bearer!¡± Another shout came from where the player was heading. That snapped him out of his confusion and the player ran by him, head held low. Marcus watched as the ammo bearer dashed towards one of the rooms where the distinct rattling of a machine gun. Marcus followed the player. The machine gun bursts still continued, and he entered the room to find the ammo bearer linking the belts together and making them as long as possible for the machine gunner. They didn¡¯t notice Marcus¡¯ entrance, and he lined up a clear shot to the back of the machine gunner¡¯s head and fired a burst of armor-piercing bullets. The first shot shattered the gunner¡¯s shields with the second penetrating his helmet and into his brain. The third entered through the base of his neck and severed his brain stem from the rest of its body. He died on the spot, his body falling limp as his face dragged along the wall he was facing. The loader looked up at him in surprise and Marcus winked, shifting his aim and shooting him and killing him before he could draw his firearm or call for help. The absence of the machine gun chattering its hate towards the attackers was apparent within the ensuing firefight. Marcus hid in one of the rooms as another player, likely their sargeant, came to check up on them not even half a minute after. He entered the room and witnessed the carnage before Marcus popped out of his hiding spot and added his corpse to the pile. With three down on his end, the firefight was petering out. They were winning. Marcus could hear the reports on the radio as the Honest Scribes steadily made way and took out the defenders¡¯ through superior positioning and marksmanship. Marcus now knew that he would rather not try to pick a fight with them if he could help it. With the security detail taken care of. Marcus ascended the steps to take care of the main reason they were here in the first place. He ascended the steps to the top floor and was about to get up to the landing when he saw a head peek through the corner. Marcus snapped his rifle up to shoot and fired, only missing it a quarter of a second too late. ¡°Who is that? Is that you, Hartdegen? I didn¡¯t know you were part of the TAS now.¡± Came a familiar shout echoing through the halls. Crunching of broken concrete echoed through the halls, getting fainter as Marcus ran up and out of the fatal funnel. He checked the other end of the hall for any ambusher, but there was no one else. ¡°You can say that. I¡¯m a mercenary, remember?¡± he shouted back, running to one of the rooms of the apartment. Here, just like on the top floor of the scav building, the walls were punched through with sledgehammers, allowing easy access between each room and windows. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I can see why you¡¯re charging that much. You work really hard for what you''re being paid for. You really earn every penny of it! Say, how much would it cost me to get out of this building alive?¡± ¡°Free! You can get out using the window right there!¡± ¡°Ha! Funny guy!¡± Another shout, this one closer. Marcus didn¡¯t peek around the corner, instead pushed his rifle around to fire blindly around. A round zipped where his head would be if he peeked, and would likely have given him a game over. Marcus¡¯ only advantage at the moment was that if Demented was still armed with the M110. With its long barrel, and its selector set to either safe or semiautomatic, Demented would be hard pressed in using it inside buildings and tight corners. ¡°Three minutes.¡± Ylenka barked through the radio. Three minutes. Seven minutes was what they thought was a safe enough time before the clan¡¯s QRF realized the feint and moved to respond to the real objective. It was a very small window, but it was all they had, and they would use that time well. While the rest had to take out as much SRT members as they could and take their equipment for themselves, Marcus¡¯ goal was to hunt down their best player, Demented, which was easier said than done. The firefight outside ground to stop as the radio chatter reported all players killed in the fighting. They had won, kits taken off from at least half dozen players would hit both the clan¡¯s coffers and player¡¯s morale. Now, if Marcus was able to do his part, then it would do more than just shake their resolve. The death of their top player would damage the perception of their power as seen by everyone else. If they managed to take it down low enough, then other groups and smaller clans would gather like a pack of hyenas and nip at the heels of a wounded lion. At least, that was the gist of the overall plan. It was unlikely that it would happen after just this operation, but with continued success, it would increase the chance of that happening. Both men were silent as they listened in for each other¡¯s whereabouts. Marcus¡¯ electronic headset received a subtle crackling of boots on concrete nearby, inside the next room. Clothes rustled, and a click as a pin was pulled and Marcus charged into the room nearby. His rifle was already on his shoulder, ready to shoot, when he caught the glimpse of Demented running out into the hallway, his pistol out. Marcus took his shot, sending a burst of fire his way. Demented¡¯s shields flared, but were already in cover before more rounds hit their mark. He was holding nothing else but his pistol, and Marcus realized the source of the click as a grenade rolled into view and he tucked back into his room for cover. The grenade exploded, unleashing a flurry of shrapnel that ricocheted off the walls. Some found their mark, damaging Marcus¡¯ shields even from the other room. ¡°You alive? How d¡¯you like that?¡± Demented taunted from somewhere in the building. The setup of the rooms made it difficult to pinpoint the exact source, which meant that Marcus had to get in close to use his advantage. ¡°Shifty asshole.¡± Marcus muttered and picked up a chunk of concrete. He crept to the corner where he last saw Demented and threw a rock from cover. Rounds zipped by his hand as he pulled it back then ran to the other room across the hall. ¡°Ooh. You got me there!¡± Demented shouted. ¡°I almost thought it was a grenade for a second.¡± Marcus didn¡¯t reply as he pulled his own fragmentation grenade from his loops and threw it towards the source of the sound. The grenade landed in the middle of the hallway, denying the area and making sure that Demented didn¡¯t cross. Marcus charged to the other room to see a shadow flash from the other room next to him. He was running out of time. Either he would have to finish the job or just retreat. Gritting his teeth, Marcus thought to give it one more chance as he followed the source of the shadow to find Demented waiting for him in the corner of the room with his rifle. A grin passed through his face as he got Marcus where he needed him. Marcus was too far in the room to go back and he had aimed at the wrong spot. He was too far away from Demented to try to make a grab for the rifle. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the trigger on his rifle and swung it towards Demented as he charged ahead into the room, too committed to back out and with no other choice but to forge ahead. His shields shattered, and he felt a round impact against his armor plates. Notifications popped within Marcus¡¯ vision and he did his best to swing his rifle towards Demented, only for him to run out of rounds. Marcus cursed. He hadn¡¯t had the time to change magazines, and it turned out to be a deadly mistake.
Warning!
Shields destroyed. Health critical.
Demented already had Marcus in his sights, and all he needed to do was take another shot to finish the job. With his rifle dry, Marcus let go of the rifle and dropped and rolled towards Demented. The rifle clattered to the end of the room just as Marcus made a grab for his legs and yanked. Instead of falling on his back, Demented controlled his stumble and fell on top of Marcus. He tried to leverage his body, but Demented was much higher levelled and stronger. His grip was like iron, but Marcus realized that the man didn¡¯t know what he was doing in the middle of the scuffle. Demented was on top and leveraged his weight to send a straight cross aimed Marcus¡¯s face. Marcus saw the punch coming from a mile away and raised his guard to deflect the coming blow, letting it skip against his forearm and land harmlessly beside his head. Hoping to tire him out, Marcus let Demented keep his position and stay on the defensive, letting him give a few more harmless hits just to give him the false sense of him winning. Timing it right, Marcus hooked his elbow against Demented¡¯s arm as he sent another punch and pushed with his hips. Keeping his grip on the arm, Marcus used his own weight to leverage himself to a much better position. Technique won out in the end and Marcus managed to get behind Demented and tried to go for a chokehold. The amount of gear on their bodies made grappling difficult, but he managed to slip his arm around his neck in the end. Demented tried to pry away Marcus¡¯ arm, failed, then reached for his pistol in a leg holster. Marcus dropped his hold and went to grab his arm before Demented could get off a clear shot. With Demented¡¯s arm seized and the muzzle kept pointing at the cieling, Marcus leveraged his own body and put pressure on his wrist, bending it at an unnatural angle. Unable to hold on the pistol, Demented had no other choice but to let go. With the gun now gone, Marcus leveraged Demented¡¯s own arm and twisted with just enough pressure to inflict pain but not dislocate the shoulder. Demented screamed and Marcus held on for a second longer, only for him to realize that they were not in a ring. Demented will not tap out, and there wouldn¡¯t be a referee to end the fight. With a grimace, Marcus leaned into the hold and felt something pop. Demented screamed. ¡°Just fucking kill me, you sadistic fuck!¡± ¡°Dude, I¡¯m sorry!¡± Marcus replied, remembering how painful it felt when he dislocated his shoulder and released his grip. Demented rolled away, clutching his dislocated shoulder. With the fight now over, Marcus unholstered his pistol and aimed at Demented¡¯s head. ¡°Dude, again. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Marcus repeated. ¡°I thought the pain filters were going to take care of it.¡± ¡°It is. I was just kidding.¡± Demented grinned, turning over. Marcus saw the grenade too late. The spoon was off, and was already flying in the air. It was too far for Marcus to slap away and so he tried to dive out of the room.
Critical Warning
Shields broken. Health critical. Find medical assistance or bleed out in 14s.
Marcus was half out of the room when the grenade exploded in the air. The blast rocked him and showered everything in supersonic fragments. His shield flared from the blast and failed at the volume of fragments he caught in his legs. He landed with a thud and read the notifications. He wasn¡¯t dead at least, and he pulled out a regenerator stim costing 50,000c per pop.
Item:
Phoenix regenerator stim. Powerful regeneration Stimulant. Using a cocktail of super-advanced medical nanobots, this stimulant can heal any type of wounds, ranging from burns to femoral bleeding, even bring someone from the brink of death. Removes pain Removes contusion Stops and prevents bleeding +20 health/3 seconds Debuffs: Tremor (60 minutes) X.8 Health (180 minutes) X.8 Endurance -90 Energy -90 Hydration
Marcus jabbed the stim on his stomach and felt numbness radiate out from where he injected it. Notifications scrolled by telling him that he was out of the woods but still needed to deal with the fragments left inside his body. ¡°Fucking asshole.¡± Marcus muttered. CH 40: Encirclement ¡®I should have known better.¡¯ Crusty muttered to himself as he walked north from the ship. He didn¡¯t want to use the Guild¡¯s transport as someone would surely notice them respawning back at the ship along with the decline in their quality of gear. All of them had to use their backup loadouts, their old gear which they had grown out of or just bought as they happened upon them on the cheap. Crusty leapt down a pile of rubble and landed in the middle of the road. Kneeling, he scanned his surroundings with his bare bones AK-74 and ran towards the nearest cover. Getting closer to the TAS headquarters, it was prudent to keep alert as the clan could have easily sent in their own members to pick off anyone they could. Behind him, boots landed on the concrete, followed by footsteps heading his way. They went past him as they took cover inside the building. A tap on his shoulder by the last man in the line caused him to stand up and follow inside. ¡°The outpost should be five hundred meters further up north.¡± Crusty said to everyone as he checked his map. He caught Zim pointedly looking at him, to which he looked away. ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself about it man, we all know what we¡¯re going into.¡± He said. ¡°I heard that they were trying to recruit the guy that killed us.¡± Frostbite chimed in. ¡°I guess we don¡¯t need to know why. Makes me wonder why they let us attack him in the first place.¡± Disfigured said. Crusty didn¡¯t want to answer the question, as even he didn¡¯t like the answer he could provide. Thankfully, Zim answered for him. ¡°Because if we managed to kill him, then he wasn¡¯t as good as they thought he was. Now, they only want to recruit him even more. Win-win for the leadership, for us, not so much.¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s best if everything said here stays here.¡± Crusty declared. ¡°Even if we call them out for it, they will just deny it. And we don¡¯t have any substantial evidence to support it . They could also even turn it around and claim that we¡¯re shirking our guild duties to go on personal errands instead of participating in the attack.¡± ¡°I fucking hate politics, man. Remember when we were just a bunch of idiots running around and having some fun?¡± Disfigured replied. ¡°It all changed when that guy came around.¡± Frostbite muttered. ¡°We should move.¡± Crusty said, not willing to continue the conversation any longer. ¡°Remember, everything said here, stays here.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Frostbite said, and everyone nodded. Crusty led the way ahead. They moved at a good pace towards the outpost when he saw something moving in the distance. Looking closer, whatever it was, it disappeared inside the outpost before he could make out more of its features. He shrugged, waving for the others to follow, when gunfire erupted up ahead. In response, everyone ran into cover. The reaction had been automatic, and they all hunkered down as the volume increased towards a full blown firefight. They each watched their sectors, fearing an ambush. The quick reaction force should have been mobilized the moment the attack was reported, Crusty thought, so he waited and watched, debating his choices as he clutched his rifle and peered over the rusted car he was using as cover. ¡°Alright.¡± Crusty called after a minute of no contact from anyone in the building. He then turned around to face his waiting team. ¡°Up ahead is the outpost, which should mean that our guys there are fighting some TAS detachment. They¡¯ll need all the help they can get and the QRF is surely on the way. Right now, we¡¯re likely the closest unit around that¡¯s in range to respond and maybe we could establish an ambush. Whoever is attacking the outpost, they will most likely run away the moment the trucks come in. The QRF should be able to get into radio range any minute now which we can use to coordinate further decisions. Any questions?¡± Nothing. ¡°Alright. Let''s move out.¡± Crusty said. As everyone moved out of cover, the fire fight ahead developed to its fullest. All manners of guns were firing. The team ran, trying to cover as much ground as safely as they could. They managed to get within a hundred meters of the outpost, only for it to peter out. Concerned, Crusty rushed ahead. They needed to get there faster in case their side was at the losing end, their involvement would likely turn the tide. Knowing that his brother was in the outpost, he kept his status window open, watching Demented¡¯s online status. Closer now, Crusty managed to hear chatter coming from the rest of the clan. ¡°QRF, QRF, what is your status? This is Crusty. We are south side of the building. Advise, over.¡± ¡°Roger that. What is your position over?¡± ¡°100 meters south of the outpost. We are on foot and are unlikely to have been spotted. Over.¡± ¡°Roger that. Establish base of fire and provide overwatch facing the south side of the building. We are currently breaking off from a current engagement. We will come from the north once we finish up here. If able, widen your base so we catch them on their retreat, over.¡± ¡°Roger.¡± ¡°Oh they¡¯re fucked.¡± Disfigured said, wearing a feral grin. With the losses they had taken thus far, it was easy to guess why he was eager to PK somebody. ¡°Not yet,¡± Crusty replied, looking up at the buildings. None of them gave the perfect angle to cover the building. Probably why the clan chose the location in the first place, only for that exact design decision to come and bite them in the ass. Crusty ordered his men to go ahead, running towards the gunfire as fast as possible in hopes of helping with the defense, only for it to peter down suddenly after an explosion erupted inside the building. Crusty looked at his friends list and confirmed that Demented had logged out. It only meant one thing. ¡°Demented is dead.¡± Crusty declared as they came within close sight of the building. The tight zoning of the buildings allowed short lines of sights on the street level, but excellent lines of sights atop the buildings. Unfortunately, getting atop the buildings was a death sentence as it would only expose them on the roofs with no cover. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± ¡°We keep moving.¡± Crusty replied, ¡°We get as close as we can to the building entrance and catch them on the way out. If we take them out that way, then good, but we should at least do our best to keep them in the building for the QRF to arrive. After that, it¡¯s game over for them.¡± Disfigured grinned. ¡°That¡¯s as good a plan as any.¡± Marcus laid on the ground, watching the black hornet hover above him. He wanted nothing more than to take a breather following that clusterfuck, but he still needed to get out of the area along with everybody else before the SRT¡¯s quick reaction force arrives. They could, of course, try to ambush them, but that would require making a hastily prepared position which would only end up with most of them dead, if they were lucky. ¡°Hey Scion, you got that recorded, right?¡± Marcus asked, knowing that a third person view of the fight would be much better than his recording. ¡°Can I get a copy?¡± ¡°The file size is 4.7 terabytes. Would you like me to send it to you now?¡± ¡®Well fuck,¡® Marcus thought to himself as he slowly got off the floor. He didn¡¯t even know if he had that much storage, and how the hell could a file get that big. ¡°Probably later. Ask me again when we get out of this place.¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°We¡¯re coming up the second floor. Hartdegen, you still alive?¡± Ylenka asked through the radio. ¡°Demented is taken cared off. Fucker blew himself up trying to get me.¡± Marcus replied, feeling the shrapnel in his legs. The issue of his pain filters not working was starting to rear its head. Still, he was getting paid for it, more specifically, his data, which likened him to something like an underpaid stunt man. ¡®Well, at least I don¡¯t risk personal injury, I think¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. ¡°We have sixty seconds left. You found any equipment we could take?¡± ¡°On the third floor, a machine gun position in the room overlooking your positions. I popped three of them there. I¡¯ll see what I can get off this guy.¡± ¡°Got it. Going there now.¡± Marcus stumbled into the other room and found Demented, blown by his own grenade. Marcus first picked up his own rifle by the corner, then started to look for Demented¡¯s M110, just in case. Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t find it and with the time he had left, wasn¡¯t likely to. Marcus knelt and touched Demented¡¯s body to loot it. His corpse despawned and was replaced with an M110 with its barrel buried in the concrete. He then opened the looting interface.
Loot
2x M61 Grenades, 1x Rations, 24 rounds 9x19mm AP6.3 Glock 34 TTI Combat Master
¡®Can¡¯t even loot the asshole¡¯s rifle.¡¯ Marcus muttered. Pulling out the unidentified Glock, he was surprised as he saw the stats. It would do well as a second loadout¡¯s sidearm.
Attention!
Glock 34 TTI Combat Master Previous owner[s]: Demented; ID: 710010809715. Built from a common Glock 17, it has been modified by an expert gunsmith per the previous owner¡¯s specifications. The gun was modified with a custom grip stippling for better traction, slide cuts for lighter recoil impulse, fiber optic sights for easier sight alignment along with red dot cutouts, and a crisp two pound trigger. Using aftermarket parts for the internals, the weapon is built with better durability and reliability. This is a custom weapon built for the specifications of the owner. Effects are: .5x chance of dropping upon death .9x recoil Lighter trigger for faster fire rate Caliber: 9x19mm Familiarity: 0 Requirement: None Weight: .7 Kg Firing Mode: Semi-automatic Mods: Red dot sight % Drop chance on death: 50%* *Drop chance is calculated with a base chance of 100% reduced by additional factors like weapon modifications and familiarity.
¡°Well shit.¡± Marcus muttered. Looking over at the Glock¡¯s stats. The modifications on the Glock turned its drop chance into a coin flip. Marcus spent a few more seconds looking for the discarded rifle in the other rooms when their timer was about to run out, hoping against chances that the rifle was considered as discarded and left within the game to be picked up. Coming up with nothing, he made for the stairs and met Ylenka on the floor below with two of her team, Seidel and Heckler. Razer, the TAS representative, was among them too, along with the pair of goblins. They had all finished up looting and were all waiting on him. With a sigh, Marcus thanked his lucky stars that his goblins were still alive. It spared him the worry of not being sure if he met the morale threshold of having the two respawn on their own. ¡°What¡¯s the take?¡± Marcus asked the gathered group. Everyone¡¯s packs were filled to the brim as Ylenka tossed him his own backpack filled with their ill-gotten gains. He spared a moment to open the pack and refilled his vest with all the magazines and grenades. Finished, he felt a sense of safety from his vest¡¯s weight. ¡°M240, a few hundred rounds in belts, three M4s with a holographic sight, more ammo along with a single-use RPG with some grenades. You? What did the big guy have?¡± Ylenka asked, signalling for two of her boys to go ahead and cover their egress point. ¡°Just a pistol. Didn¡¯t get his rifle, it didn¡¯t drop since it¡¯s a custom build.¡± ¡°Unlucky. It would have been a good proof of kill.¡± ¡°The pistol is a custom build too.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°His name is on it and I can pull the kill out of a recording.¡± Marcus replied, and Ylenka nodded with a sigh of relief. With the inherent gameplay of killing players at a distance, proof of kills added a layer of prestige to the kill, like functional trophies. ¡°Be advised. The QRF has pulled out of the attack. They realize the feint early and have re-tasked their assets to our location.¡± Razer barked to everyone as he received chatter in their clan frequency. ¡°Confirmed they¡¯re here. CROWS JLTV and a humvee. Two hundred meters out.¡± Horn reported through the radio. ¡°Keep them busy. But prioritize survival. Make sure your egress is clear.¡± Ylenka ordered. Their grace period had run out, prompting everyone to haul ass. ¡°Roger that. Engaging.¡± Horn replied, followed by the sounds of distant gunfire. Thuds of heavier calibers ripping through the buildings came as a response, followed by an explosion. ¡°Confirmed RPG impact on the humvee. No visible damage but they¡¯re slowing down.¡± Came the report through the radio. With nothing else to do, Marcus nodded and checked his gear. He reloaded his rifle and turned to the rest. ¡°Let¡¯s get to hauling ass then.¡± Everyone nodded, and they all filed down to the lower levels in a stack. ¡°Movement south of the building!¡± one of Ylenka¡¯s boys reported through the radio. ¡°Down the south side, at least a five-man team. They¡¯re moving up steadily. By their uniforms, looks like SRT.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± Marcus muttered. ¡°No plan survives contact with the enemy.¡± Ch 41: Breakout ¡°Be advised. They have pushed us back and the trucks have started moving again.¡± Horn reported through the radio. Marcus acknowledged the report, then turned to meet Ylenka¡¯s gaze. ¡°Your OP,¡± She said, nodding. Marcus nodded back, clicking the send on the radio. ¡°Roger that. Taking over. Horn, relocate and set up facing the south side of the building to provide overwatch. Be advised, we have contacts up ahead. Count is at least five.¡± Just like they say, ¡®No plan survives contact with the enemy.¡¯ Everything is moving too fast for Marcus¡¯ liking. What should have been a quick smash and grab was easily turned on its head by a single player squad blocking their retreat. With every second ticking by, the QRF, with their armored vehicles and heavy weaponry, were creeping closer to their location, and every second they stayed in the building was another second the noose around their necks tightened. Marcus raised his scope and could see glimpses of the enemy squad up ahead. He opted not to bring his thermals for the risky op and so he had to rely on nothing but his sight. The squad hunkered down inside one of the buildings overlooking their route. So far they hadn¡¯t shot at them yet, probably expecting to catch them off guard. ¡°Okay. Fuck.¡± Marcus muttered and addressed the group. There were seven of them in all, the TAS representative, Razer, Ylenka, two of her team, and Marcus himself and his two goblins. All were laden with gear taken from the players and their stash in the building. ¡°We don¡¯t have any other choice but to punch through. We move through that building ahead, hunker down. There, we¡¯ll use the smokes on the road to cover our crossing. We¡¯ll have to move fast since I bet those guys will start moving themselves around as soon as they realize what we¡¯re doing.¡± ¡°You can use me as a distraction.¡± Razer declared. ¡°I don¡¯t mind drawing fire. It wouldn¡¯t hurt if they get me since they''re already well acquainted with me and it won¡¯t hurt much if they identify me.¡± ¡°If they¡¯re as organized as they showed themselves to be, it wouldn¡¯t matter. They¡¯ll know who hit them soon enough.¡± Ylenka answered. ¡°In position. I got a good angle overlooking the street. We see no movement at the moment.¡± Horn reported through the radio. ¡°Made contact with the rest of the group and have set up a base of fire.¡± ¡°Roger that. We¡¯re moving out. Hold fire at the moment and only engage when you have a positive ID.¡± Marcus replied and turned towards the rest. Gabs and Fleex looked to be well out of their element. The two clutched their rifles with white knuckled grip but didn¡¯t look to be on the verge of breaking. Good. He might not be there in their first scuffle, and it wouldn¡¯t do well if the two would start crumbling in the first bit of trouble, as it would easily destroy Marcus¡¯ plan of recruiting more of the goblins to work under him. If future recruits would turn out to be just as reliable, then his plan of establishing a solid squad of goblins would start to hold water. ¡°You guys ready?¡± Marcus asked, and everyone nodded back. Marcus led the way down the levels and made his way to the door facing south. Marcus paused by the door. He was first in the stack. Behind him was Razer, armed with his bare bones M4, Ylenka and Heckler with their G36C, Gabs and Fleex with their semiautomatic AKs and finally, Seidel covering their rear with his HK MP5. Opening it, light from the outside seeped into the building¡¯s dark interior. Outside, past the door, is a small walled alley that covered their approach towards the neighboring building. With a pat on his back, Marcus led the way out, and all filed into the alley, making their way south and taking careful note to keep away from the enemy¡¯s angle of fire. Bullets snapped overhead and Marcus ducked into cover behind the wall nearby. Moving to the side a few feet, Marcus popped out of the safety of the wall and fired at the window he suspected the fire came from and saw a dark figure dart within. He continued sending a few more shots to make sure the figure was effectively suppressed and covered for the rest to move to his position. Razer passed by him, continuing to use the protection provided by the alley wall, and headed straight for the neighboring building. He took over the lead position in the stack, followed by Ylenka and Heckler, and the rest. Seidel patted Marcus on the shoulder as he passed him by, and Marcus took his position in the rear. Facing the way they came, Marcus reloaded his rifle and backpedaled the rest of the way while keeping his sector in the rear covered. Razer breached the metal door and into the small building. Everyone piled in, and Marcus found himself in the middle of a dark, empty office. Through the interior windowed door, Marcus could see the rest of the building and found empty shelves leading to a pair of roll up garage doors. One was open, leading to a wide two lane road where the squad of SRTs were certainly covering. ¡°We see movement. Engaging.¡± Horn reported, followed by gunfire. Marcus took the opportunity and ran towards the open garage doors, making sure to keep to the shadows inside the building, and started throwing smoke grenades on the street to cover their advance. Ylenka and Razer followed suit, chucking their own smokes while the rest covered. ¡°Confirm one KIA. The rest have taken cover.¡± Horn reported. Marcus replied with a quick acknowledgement and waited a few more seconds to let the smoke propagate. Under the thick cover of smoke, Marcus led the way across the wide street and headed towards the nearest building. Seeing movement in one of the buildings ahead and to the left, about twenty meters away, Marcus raised his rifle in the direction and sent some pot shots towards the second-story window. Seeing this, the others followed suit and kept whoever was inside suppressed while everyone crossed the street. Fire came their way, but with the thick cover of smoke, only a few rounds found their mark. Shields flared as the protective fields protected their wearers long enough for them to make it to the other side. Inside, they looked to be in another small warehouse. In between gunfire, Marcus could hear the faint roar of diesel engines mixed with a heavy amount of gunfire. It was creeping closer and was then confirmed by the radio report from Horn. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Be advised, the trucks are two blocks north of you. We could see at least eight, I repeat, at least eight dismounts heading for you with vehicle support. We are effectively suppressed and cannot provide support. We¡¯ll try relocating. It looks like they are gunning hard for you. Good luck.¡± He said, hearing bullets impact through the radio along with the snaps as bullets passed by. From the commotion he could hear from the other side, it seems like Horn was downplaying his situation and Marcus couldn¡¯t help but be impressed by Horn¡¯s cool and measured voice. ¡°Roger that. Keep safe, don¡¯t risk your lives. Provide support only in relative safety. Good luck.¡± Marcus replied, glancing towards the rest and felt a measure of relief to find them all still intact. They looked at him with grim determination, except for Razer, who looked to be having the time of his life. ¡°We really pissed them off this time.¡± Razer shouted through the din. ¡°We only need to get to the station two blocks south of us. Once we get there, they won''t be able to follow us.¡± Marcus yelled back, moving towards the back of the warehouse and kicked the interior door in, leading into another back office. Everyone followed him, but it still felt like they were going too slow. Speed and keeping on the move was their salvation, as Marcus could almost feel an imaginary noose constricting around his neck. ¡®Is this what soldiers, rebels, or even insurgents felt knowing that they¡¯re slowly being surrounded?¡¯ Marcus asked himself. He opened the back door to the building and peeked out. Bullets snapped by his head and he pulled his head back into cover, but not before seeing the location of the shooter. ¡°He¡¯s at the end of the back alley 30 meters away behind a metal dumpster.¡± Marcus reported. ¡°I¡¯ll draw fire.¡± Razer volunteered. Marcus nodded. It was not ideal to send their liaison, but with Razer volunteering, it saved Marcus from having to make that decision. Razer took a breath and sprinted out of the room. Bullets followed him. Marcus could see rounds impacting by his feet and behind him, along with direct hits absorbed by his shields. closing his eyes for a second and seeing the shooter in his mind¡¯s eye, Marcus peeked out of cover and lined up a shot. The figure was laying behind a dumpster by the alley. His weapon¡¯s muzzle flash made him much easier to spot and Marcus hovered his sight¡¯s circle-dot reticle on his target. He had just paused firing and was reaching for a magazine when Marcus fired. Already in semi-auto, Marcus squeezed a couple measure shots and saw his shots connect, shields flared and the impacts caused his target to flinch. Marcus kept the reticle around the same area and peppered him, expending half a magazine before feeling a tap on his shoulder, indicating that he was, again, the last man. Marcus glanced to his side and followed Seidel. The team medic had already pulled out bandages and was busy tending to Razer, who caught a few more rounds than what his shields could handle. He looked over at Marcus and grinned. ¡°Nice shot.¡± He said. ¡°Can you still move?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°Not as well as I should¡¯ve.¡± He replied. ¡°Look, just leave me. I¡¯ll try to slow them down instead, rather than you. Better one life than all of us.¡± ¡°He¡¯s right.¡± Ylenka chimed in. ¡°I¡¯ll stay with him. Help him slow them down.¡± ¡®Fuck.¡¯ Marcus muttered as he stared ahead. One more building and they¡¯ll have broken through the encirclement. It should be smooth sailing from then on, given that they move fast. Marcus grit his teeth and hauled Razer up to his feet, despite the protestations of their team medic telling him that he was not finished. ¡°Get to the next building and we¡¯ll give you your final stand.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Seidel, take his arms. Gabs and Fleex, take his legs and carry him.¡± He ordered, moving through the building and peeking out the front door. Across the street, Marcus could see the underground station¡¯s roof peeking over the two story building ahead. Positioned in a street corner, it looked to be a showroom of some sort with its open second story bay windows. All the glass windows were shattered, but the building still allowed excellent vision to their rear and was the perfect place to leave Razer for his last stand. He looked at both sides of the street and saw nothing, but that could mean anything. ¡°Heckler, on me. Ylenka, take the rear.¡± He ordered and ran through the street. No sounds of gunfire chased him and no bullets snapped nearby. Marcus reached the other side of the street and found cover on the corner of the building. Heckler ran across the street to join him, followed by Seidel, Gabs and Fleex carrying the wounded Razer. Ylenka ran across last, and Marcus breached the building and led the rest to the second floor. They dragged Razer to face north, where the QRF was coming from, and left him with enough ammo along with the single-use RPG they looted off their target building. ¡°Good luck.¡± Marcus said, patting Razer on the shoulder. ¡°You too. Expect a call from the brothers. They¡¯ll want to talk to you after this.¡± He replied, pulling out a stim from his pocket and jabbing it on his arm. ¡°This will keep me alive long enough to deal some damage.¡± ¡°Give them hell and tell your brothers not to take too long.¡± Marcus nodded and ran down to the ground floor. There, he met the rest of the squad, posted up on the windows, looking up. They all looked at him and, without any orders given, stacked up behind him. Marcus led the way south, and they came upon view of the station, only for the sounds of diesel to come up behind them. Everyone took cover at the sound coming from two blocks away, followed by the rounds ripping overhead. Concrete churned and splattered as bullets impacted and ricocheted. Marcus looked over the direction of the fire, just as a rocket streaked from Razer¡¯s position, and scored a direct hit on the leading JLTV, enveloping it in an explosion. Dust from the explosion covered the vehicle and its shields flared as it took the brunt of the hit. It hadn¡¯t been destroyed. In response, gunfire erupted from the vehicles and from their dismounts, showering Razers¡¯ position in a storm of lead. ¡°Go. Go. Go.¡± Marcus yelled and everyone ran towards the station and its access to the safety of the underground. Marcus took the rear, running down the escalators leading to the underground. Daylight soon faded into darkness and they used their weapon lights to illuminate their path ahead. Everyone took defensive positions. Marcus took his spot behind a pylon and aimed at the entrance, hoping that the SRT would be stupid enough to follow. They waited, and Marcus checked what¡¯s left of their team and found them all wounded to some extent. They were lucky. The heavy caliber brought upon by the SRT quick reaction force could have easily taken them out with only a single shot, but somehow hadn¡¯t managed to land a solid hit. They were eaten up but somehow they lived through it all and Marcus thanked his lucky stars for getting out of there alive. Minutes passed. They kept within their defensive position and Marcus checked his time only to find that only around ten minutes passed from the moment he took out Demented. For Marcus, it felt like an hour. ¡°Gabs, Fleex. This is your turf. Find us a way out, preferably someplace hidden away from here.¡± Marcus ordered. CH 42: Tasking Seeing how well Gabs and Fleex took to leading their group through the dark confines of the tunnels, Marcus decided the goblins were the undisputed lord of the underground. Their eyes were well adjusted to see well with little light, and their sharp noses were able to sniff out fresh air drafting through cracks in the ground. They could even differentiate which holes dug by the underground dwelling Malifs contained one waiting in ambush over another, which was empty. Marcus had to say goodbye to the sweet scent of fresh air against the stale tunnel air. Ahead of him was Gabs, crouched ahead using his natural night vision to see his way, and he followed along as they led their way into the underground. Despite wanting to use the extensive tunnels dug underneath the city, Marcus opted to use the surface in case they were tracked. They couldn¡¯t afford to give anyone able to follow them a route towards their current base, and so he decided to use overland routes and randomly changed directions to lose any player that might be tailing them. It was an overly cautious move, but the SRT had already proven their cunning by almost surrounding Marcus and his team. They were lucky to get out of that situation in the first place. After that, they arrived at an area Marcus had been familiar with and used the tunnels leading underground there to make their way back to the Songbird station. His mind naturally drifted to the events prior. He had to give it to the SRT. Their response time was on the clock. If they were a minute too late pulling out of the location, then they would have been surrounded and taken out. Still, he couldn¡¯t complain too much, as the raid turned out to be a success, even with Razer being left behind to buy them precious time. ¡®Not that he bought them that much given that he was taken out quickly afterwards, but it¡¯s the thought that counts,¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. The SRT¡¯s quick reaction force was the linchpin during that fight. If not for its existence, then they would have completely taken out the building and hold it for themselves long enough for the TAS to decide what to do with it. If not for the QRF, then they would have taken ground, which is much more valuable in the strategic sense than taking out a sniper and his security, even if you add the loot gathered on top of that. Still, with the SRT¡¯s equipment superiority, he would have to develop his own method of defeating a more powerful enemy using inferior equipment and numbers at his disposal. This left Marcus to think about insurgent tactics. Save for a few occasions, insurgents rarely take ground and keep it. Instead, they focus on dealing as much damage against the enemy and, if time allowed, steal equipment before fading into the background. Despite how much Marcus despised terrorists, he would have to think like them and keep the nature of their thinking in the forefront of his own. Also, this being a game brought with it tradeoffs, mainly respawns. It allows players to learn lessons even in death, as any sensible player would try to recall as much as he could from his previous engagement and gather as much lessons from it instead of just raging out. Those raging salty players Marcus could easily deal with, but those players tend to be the grunts of any group and not the one to make the decisions. Thinking back to the insurgent strategy, theirs hinged heavily on convincing their superior enemy that continuing the fight was far from worth it. This pushed Marcus back into the brutal and crude strategy of attrition, not in terms of lives, as respawns removed that, but equipment and resources. No fighting group could keep fighting without weapons and the logistics that allowed them to keep in the fight, and no player likes to lose loot. If he could keep the SRT to have a net loss on their resources and equipment, then the leadership of the group would be harder pressed on convincing their players to keep in the fight. Marcus chuckled, it was like how his brother said when he played a game called ¡®Rust¡¯, you don¡¯t win by killing the enemy or destroying their base, you win when you make them quit. Gabs dropped into a room up ahead and Marcus followed and found himself in a familiar place. Moist, barely lit concrete walls made up the sparse room with a metal door sealing the entrance ahead of them. There was a peephole welded onto the door, 4 feet off the floor. The door was locked on the other side and after a minute after banging on the door, the peephole opened with a goblin on the other side and closed. For a second, Marcus felt a tinge of fear of getting killed by his own. With the tight confines of the room leaving no place for cover, it would only take a grenade, or a Molotov cocktail, dropped inside the room to take out anyone inside. They could even drop more to make sure that everyone died on this killbox. Of course, they could try to retreat back into the hole, but the tunnel leading out only allowed a single crouched man or woman at a time and crawling back into it would take more time than the fuze of a grenade, or a lot Molotov to break against the concrete floor and shower them with burning fuel. Thankfully, the distinct clicking of latches sounded on the other side, followed by a low groan as the metal door swung open. They were met with a group of goblins armed with their usual handmade weapons and Marcus noticed the distinct top feeding magazine of his and Bo¡¯s design. It¡¯s reliability still had to stand the test of battle, but if a goblin was armed in the outer lines, then their gunsmiths would have managed to get them to work at least. ¡°Appreciate it.¡± Marcus muttered. The goblins nodded back. He led the way, with everyone trailing behind. Leaving the deathtrap, Marcus glanced at the fresh welds on the door. Bo had been working hard on the defense and something as simple as compartmentalizing spaces and making chokepoints. Even with superior numbers and equipment, it would be hell to attack a well-defended underground location. There was a reason militaries around the world employed bunker busters back in his time, the largest being having a nuclear payload that could take out underground bases kilometers in the ground. They knew that attacking a place like this was just not worth it. Better to put a bomb in it and just bury them under the rubble. With Bo busy fortifying the station and making it as hard to crack as possible, it was Marcus¡¯ to have a bite of their own. No one ever won a war by defending, and there was a reason soldiers back then were given a spear along with a shield. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. This brought Marcus back to thinking about their offensive capabilities. The Honest Scribes had proven themselves capable of conducting operations well. Marcus even felt a tinge of jealousy on their cohesion as they worked well during the attack and their coordination with giving information and slowing the QRF down during their retreat was invaluable. He had to be honest. Marcus wanted something like that as his own. This meant building up his own mercenary company. Gabs and Fleex were a good start. They followed orders and were well disciplined enough not to break during stressful situations. Their marksmanship would have to be heavily worked on. Marcus suspected they simply aimed and fired in the general direction of the enemy and not even landed a single shot within a foot of the target. They haven¡¯t done the Afgani shitter yet, which was good. Still, going back to their marksmanship, it could be worked on given enough time and resources, but discipline was not something that could be developed by simply throwing money at it. This brought Marcus to his core tenets on running his company. He made sure to write it down with discipline, loyalty, and morale at the top, followed by marksmanship, and finally numbers. Two of the most badass NPCs under his employ would not be able to do much, as they could easily be swamped by players or other NPCs, which meant that he would have to start recruiting again. Still, it was easier said than done. Building a cohesive and effective force, training them and supplying them all the while trying to defend against an impending attack? No problem. Marcus thought bitterly. Hard lessons learned back when he was in the workforce two hundred years ago resurfaced. Marcus took down notes of every task he needed done and broke them down to as small individual parts as he could. It soon grew to a terrifying degree, as just training up his own goblin force amounted to a lot of work. Add the fact that he would have to lead sorties to help the TAS defend against the SRT, then it soon went to a workload enough to give any workaholic a pause. Still, it was not like he was alone. Now he had men and women he could rely on and so he divided the workload and mentally slotted the scouting for targets of opportunity to Ylenka, with Anna and Rex joining in as their support. Marcus was sure that the pair led by the unpredictable woman would chomp at the bit of danger, which left Marcus to deal with the TAS leadership, logistics of the operation, and the defense of the station. Easy, not. Arriving at Bo¡¯s shop, Marcus found that the man himself wasn¡¯t there. The shop was quickly becoming their de facto base in the station as Marcus opened one of the lockers given to him and put in the custom Glock. He turned to the rest and sighed. Still a lot to do. ¡°I think this is as good a time as any for us to discuss what just happened, like some sort of after action report.¡± Marcus said to everyone in the group. ¡°But first, I¡¯d like to congratulate everyone on a job well done. Our only casualty is the TAS representative that is too eager to be the man left behind to buy time for others. Other than that, I think it¡¯s a successful OP with all things considered.¡± No one shouted or cheered, they had already done that part of the celebration when they regrouped following going back on the surface. The winner¡¯s high had long subsided by now and everyone simply gave a professional nod, as if saying that it¡¯s nothing serious. ¡°With that engagement, I could say that we have learned a lot. But that also meant that the SRT has learnt a lot more since failure teaches more lessons than success. Do not expect the same success to come upon us as I expect the next time that the moment the same situation happens again, we wouldn¡¯t be able to snatch victory from defeat. By now, both the TAS and SRT leadership would have learned of what happened. With our operation, we would have effectively declared which side of the line we are on. No longer are we just another player group in the city but an ally to one clan and an enemy to another.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we all knew what would happen the moment we all signed the dotted line.¡± Horn replied. Marcus nodded. ¡°The nature of our own strategy stays the same. The thing now is what to do from now on. We know that direct conflict was out, their advantage in numbers and heavier equipment made sure of that. This means that we would have to keep to hit-and-run tactics. This requires extensive efforts to scout for opportunities, exploit it, and, if possible, steal equipment. Ylenka, I¡¯ve seen your side of that raid and how it went well. Can I ask you to take over that part of the operation for us?¡± Ylenka shrugged. ¡°I can.¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°As for me, I¡¯ll be talking with the TAS leadership and, also likely, the SRT. They¡¯ve tried reaching out to me before we found out that we¡¯re enemies and they are likely to reach out again to get a feel for how we stand among everything. I¡¯ll also try to handle the logistics side of things, but as it stands right now, almost everything we loot off bodies will probably be handed over to contribute to the station in exchange for the points.¡± ¡°Points for exp are always good. They¡¯ll be surprised at how fast we level up even with the time we spend fighting them instead of farming.¡± Ylenka replied. Marcus nodded. With his own bank of points, he would be able to jump three levels and get past level 20 easily. There, he would get an extra skill slot to his already filled slots. ¡°Some of the equipment will also have to be slated for the expansion of our own goblin forces. Gabs and Fleex had already shown you some of their capabilities, although insignificant as of now, more rifles firing in the fight still have their effect. But I¡¯ll have to point out that their more important contribution would be in mobility. They all have a knack of moving through the underground tunnels snaking throughout the city and it would allow you more avenues of approach and covert ways of moving through the city. If done well, I can see the SRT being hit, and only for them to wonder where you all disappeared into. If this goes well, then they¡¯ll be finding themselves to be fighting ghosts that could appear and disappear as if on command.¡± Everyone nodded and Marcus continued his combination of briefing and a speech. They then moved on to accounting for everything they had taken off the SRT players, which totaled to a M240b machinegun, three M4A1s; two in a barebones configuration, with one fitted with holographic sight. A dozen M61 grenades, 451 rounds of 7.62x51 of M80 and M62 in belts in a 4:1 ball and tracer configuration, 743 rounds of 5.56x45 M855 packed inside 24 STANAG magazines, along with 1566 rounds of loose M855 in bandoliers taken off ammunition cans. With six men, not counting Razer, it was all they could carry with them on their person. There were still more left within the raided building, like sidearms and rations, but they ran off with the most valuable gear they found. With some quick maths, Marcus estimated the cost of everything to be past 60,000c easy. Marcus had no idea if that was considered a good haul or the norm since he hadn¡¯t had a point of reference, but it was still a gain for them and a loss for the enemy. Now, the issue that reared its head was caliber commonality. Marcus had decided to keep on arming the Chief with Combloc weapons because of their relative abundance and price, but the weapons they looted off the SRT were of NATO standard. If Marcus would give the weapons to the Chief, then keeping them fed would be a problem in itself. But a big BUT in that argument is that they couldn¡¯t afford to be picky, and so the old adage applied, beggars can¡¯t be choosers. ¡°Hey! We¡¯re back! Anything happened?¡± Anna said as she and Rex entered the shop. She looked at the table where their captured loot was laid for everyone to check out, and her eyes lit up. ¡°So, what did we miss?¡± CH 43: Parley
Name: Hartdegen Race: Human Player ID: 4374711912965355
Level: 22 Experience: 10,254/48,795 [Equipment and Inventory]
Health: 240/240
Stamina: 156/156 [Quests]
Shield: 400/400
Fame: 151 Nutrition: 100/100 [Traits and Skills]
Affiliation: Renegades Hydration: 100/100
Stats
Str End Cons Dex
10(1.1) 6 (1.3) 14 5(1.1)
Cha [Empty] [Empty] [Empty]
5
Skills 6/7
Pistols(lvl 15) Increases base damage by 2% and base critical chance by 1% per level Rifles (lvl 22) Increases base damage by 2% and base critical chance by 1% per level Negotiation (lvl 8) Increased chance of better outcomes when negotiating with NPCs Explosives (Lvl 5) Increases the damage of explosive devices by .5% per level. Allows the crafting of explosive devices at higher levels. Instruction: (lvl 3) Increases the learning speed of NPCs under your tutelage. Speed is dependent on current level of skills being taught and level of instruction skill. Authority: (lvl 2) Increased chance of imposing your will within anyone under the same organization or an ally. Higher levels increases the chance of even NPCs with higher position to listen to you.
After giving everything he looted off the bodies, Marcus used the contribution points he had saved up and spent them to gain experience. This allowed Marcus to reach level 20, giving him one more skill slot. He would have to find a useful passive skill, one which synergized well with his current build could do him dividends combined with the instruction skill.
Congratulations!
Instruction skill levelled up to 4!
Marcus could only nod at the notification. They have set up in the tunnel between the shrine and the last picket line leading to the ship. With one sentry gun out of commission, it freed up more power for the station and Marcus had Bo reroute electricity to light up this part of the tunnels for it to serve as their shooting range. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The range which was now occupied by Gabs and Fleex, along with three more goblins, which Marcus supervised. Ylenka and the rest of the Honest Scribes went out to find more trouble on the surface, with Rex and Anna tagging along, looking for something else to do than running guns. This left Marcus alone with some time to burn, which he decided to train up his first two goblin subordinates along with the three more that had been sent to him by the Chief. Marcus watched as the five goblins lined up and raised their weapons. He had instructed them as best he could, breaking down each movement to the most basic of steps. With how thoroughly Marcus taught them, they learned the steps well. Still, the goblins revealed how far rote knowledge could only get. A loud pop echoed through the tunnels as the target lay untouched. The rubble a foot to the left was peppered with shot as the goblin holding the shotgun missed. It was going slow, and Marcus could only roll his eyes as he counted another 5 credits lost for each round fired. Still, practice makes perfect and these five goblins would need every practice they could get. Morale was looking high, which was good. He could see the determination and concentration painted on everyone¡¯s faces as they recalled and followed everything Marcus instructed them. He was very critical on keeping muzzle discipline and making sure that a goblin sweeping another would be kept to a minimum. It would be a shame if he would lose one goblin from a friendly fire incident. It was something that could be eliminated through training and is one other thing Marcus wanted to address. As for marksmanship, it is something that can be improved upon by time and money. Another pop sounded through the tunnels and Marcus listened for the delayed ring as the human torso sized piece of steel set a hundred meters away rang from the impact. Marcus¡¯ eyes laid on Gabs, who was looking very pleased to hit the target. Still a lot to work on. The little goblin was the best shot among them, with him only being able to hit a human sized target at a hundred yards half the time. He was improving, sure, given that he started off as being only able to hit it once every ten shots. Marcus looked at the clock and it was nearing the time when he told Razer when he would be on the ship. There, he could kill some time by looking at how the market was looking at the moment and start buying up weapons and ammunition whenever he could. He could also try to recruit more people to join the fight with the SRT, but with his connections already reached its limit, it would be unlikely for him to find more reliable fighters to bring to the fold. Marcus left them more instructions for the five goblins to keep practicing. He left Gabs as the one in charge along with a can of 7.62x39 along with a half dozen boxes of shotgun shells for them to play with. 660 rounds of 7.62 and 120 rounds of buckshot to practice with should net them some improvements at the end of the day. Still, Marcus had to make sure and so he gave an implicit threat that they better improve by hitting the hundred meter target at least seven out of ten the moment he gets back, or else. It was an empty threat, but they didn''t know that. With that, Marcus used the underground route to get back to the ship. Already, he wanted to split himself in two as part of him wanted to keep supervising the goblin¡¯s training, but meeting up with the TAS leadership is much more important. Still, delegation is the name of the game when running an organization, as one man cannot keep one functioning by itself. There had to be a system established in place and there was no better time to start one than now. And so, he left the job of supervising the other goblins for Gabs, who was eager to please. Marcus reached the Smoking Barrels Bar to get some alone time in the game, along with trying to eavesdrop into some conversations, maybe even start one himself with another player. Entering the establishment, Marcus paused in his step to find Demented waiting at one of the tables. The surrounding area had been left empty. Even with the bar filled to the brim with players, Demented¡¯s table was given a wide berth. Looking further, the players wore the same camo, which belonged to the SRT. ¡°Hey Hardtegen! Over here! I was just wondering when you¡¯d turn up!¡± Demented shouted over the din, which caused every SRT member to pause and look over to him. Feeling the awkwardness of the situation, Marcus had two choices. One was to tuck his tail and run away, but Marcus chose the other. ¡°I got to be honest, I wasn¡¯t expecting to find you here either.¡± Marcus replied, weaving around the players and making his way over. With steady confidence, he reached the table and pulled up a seat, plopping down to the chair. He then leaned back in a relaxed slouch. He then smiled, seeming as if meeting an old friend. ¡°So, what can I help you with?¡± He asked. The sniper being in the bar meant that he¡¯s not doing damage somewhere else. With Ylenka and her team already doing their own thing outside the ship, keeping Demented on the spot reduces the chance of them running into one of the top snipers in the region to zero as long as Marcus keeps him talking. ¡°I¡¯d like you to meet my brother, Crusty. I think you¡¯ve gotten to know each other well.¡± Demented said, gesturing to the other player sitting on the table wearing a scowl on his face. Marcus smiled, meeting Crusty¡¯s gaze, who was giving Marcus a sharp enough look to cut him in half. Demented chuckled, clarifying. ¡°If there was a score between the two of you, then it would be three to one.¡± He said. Marcus could only narrow his eyes as he pondered what he meant, then it all clicked. ¡°Good game.¡± Marcus smiled. Crusty kept his stare for a second longer before softening, ¡°Well played. You had me every time.¡± ¡°So, I was thinking.¡± Demented butted in, pausing to take a drink. ¡°See, you have something we want back, and I¡¯m sure we could have an understanding between us to have something arranged.¡± ¡®Ah, here it is.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. Feigning ignorance, Marcus wore a confused face before replying. ¡°What do you mean? You¡¯re going to have to narrow it down.¡± ¡°Come on man.¡± Demented chided. ¡°We want the guns back, me and my brother. You know, they might just be another to you, but they held a lot of sentimental value for the both of us. So you know, we want them back.¡± ¡°What do I get out of it?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°What do you want for it?¡± Demented replied. ¡°Now that¡¯s a good question.¡± Marcus pointed, then made a pained face. ¡°But I think we¡¯re going to have a problem with it. I ran with a couple of them for a bit, and it¡¯s kinda growing on me, you know? I think I¡¯m starting to like them more than both of you do.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want to do that.¡± Crusty butted in, venom in his voice. Marcus looked at him and could understand his reaction. He could bet he¡¯d be feeling the same thing if the situations were reversed. ¡°Come on.¡± Marcus drawled, ¡°We¡¯re in a game! What¡¯s the point of playing if you spend your time being angry?¡± ¡°How about 200,000c for my piece?¡± Demented offered. ¡°With that much, you can have two. One in each hand.¡± Demented grinned, throwing finger guns akimbo and shooting up the place. ¡°Yeah, you can even shove it in your throat and suck on it.¡± Crusty added. ¡°You don¡¯t have to pull me into your hobbies dude.¡± Marcus replied to Crusty, grinning. ¡°You might love doing that, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s for me.¡± Then to Demented, ¡°As for the offer, let me think about it. I wasn¡¯t really expecting to meet you here and have this talk. I came here just hoping for some time for me to relax, you know. Maybe have some beers, some alone time, get a feel of the place. So you should know how unexpected it is for me to make deals instead.¡± ¡°I got you.¡± Demented nodded, then smiled. ¡°But don¡¯t take too long.¡± Knocking on the table, Demented stood up, followed quickly by Crusty and the two made their way out of the bar, followed by the other SRT members. Marcus signalled for a beer and was soon taking a sip with the brew in hand. A few minutes after drinking, he was swirling what¡¯s left of the bottle and was about to order another when he recognized a familiar face had just entered the bar. ¡°Hey Razer! Over here! I was just wondering when you¡¯d turn up!¡± Marcus called. Ch 44: Whats left unsaid. Marcus took another sip of his beer, keeping silent as he stared at the other party sitting on the other side of the table. Melnik, the TAS¡¯s leader, sat at the other end of the small table flanked by the two of his bodyguards, Zavodskoy and Pakhan. Razer sat to his left, his knees held close together, back straight in a ¡®proper¡¯ posture. ¡°So, I hear what happened.¡± Melnik said, finally breaking the silence. His accent was heavy enough to bludgeon someone to death which clued Marcus that English was likely not his first language. ¡°Is impressive first meeting.¡± Not knowing what the man was playing at exactly, Marcus only flashed his eyebrows and took another swig. ¡°What can I say?¡± Marcus replied, smacking his lips at the brew. It tasted a lot like the real thing, cold piss water, and it didn¡¯t make people drunk, but drinking it was only a natural thing in the Smoking Barrels bar. ¡°It would have been better if Razer made it out, but like everybody says, no plan survives contact with the enemy. They¡¯re just as thinking hard on how to beat you as you are to them.¡± ¡°True.¡± Melnik nodded. ¡°I hear you have proof of kill. I think would be a good gift to start friendship.¡± He said. ¡®Oh, here we go.¡¯ Marcus almost groaned. Two parties already lusting over the gun, with Ylenka being a likely third. Marcus caught the way she looked at the weapon and with how she wanted to fight Demented, would use the weapon as a bait to reel in her wanted quarry. Marcus still hasn¡¯t decided what to do with it yet. Who would have thought a single gun could get so much attention, something he first thought to be a neat secondary on a backup load-out. ¡°Believe me,¡± Marcus started, he needed to sound as convincing as he could to make sure that he kept the weapon with himself. ¡°I agree that it¡¯s a good gift, but I think it¡¯s too much to start up our kind of relationship. I too have something planned for it. However, I have something else with me.¡± He said, slowly leaning forward atop the table. ¡°How about I give you footage of what happened instead? Four terabytes of third person footage of the fight.¡± Marcus leaned back, pointing over at the black hornet hovering over his shoulder. ¡°It has everything, infiltration, close quarters combat, even hand to hand ending on a fiery explosion.¡± Melnik looked over at Razer, who shrugged. Marcus grinned, ¡°Although I haven¡¯t checked, I also have some cool footage of the breakout, with Razer doing some hero shit which would get your propaganda department a boner. At least, it would get you some recruitment points given that it¡¯s some really cool shit.¡± ¡°We know.¡± Melnik replied. ¡°Is why we¡¯re here. We want you to join us.¡± ¡°Aren''t we already doing that?¡± ¡°No.¡± Melnik shook his head, ¡°I mean you¡­ you¡­¡± He turned to Razer and said something in a long string of a foreign language, which in Marcus¡¯ ears, sounded Russian, if not, then came from Central or Eastern Europe at least. ¡°He wants you to join the clan.¡± Razer translated. ¡°They¡¯ve already reviewed my footage and decided to get you in, even without reviewing yours. In exchange,-¡± ¡°Let me just stop you there.¡± Marcus said, holding up a hand. ¡°I didn¡¯t decide to extend you the help as some sort of audition, but I reached out to you as something to break the ice in a mutually beneficial relationship. I won¡¯t hide it, but the SRT had extended the same offer and I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯ll have to give you the same answer I gave them. No.¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°Right now, we have only to gain by suppressing the SRT and making moves to take them out. So, how about we just keep to that? as for how this arrangement of ours would turn out in the future, we¡¯ll see.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Melnik replied, nodding. ¡°We keep same arrangement then. We fight SRT in front, you fight them in the side, or back. We call you, tell you good target and fight together.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want it any other way.¡± Marcus nodded, standing up. Melnik offered his hand, and both parties shook. ¡°As my gift, I¡¯ll send you my recordings for you to do with whatever you like.¡± ¡°Good. Talk is over,¡± Melnik said, standing. He made for the exit, with Razer trailing behind. He looked back at him and gave a curt nod, which he returned. Wondering on how easily Melnik gave up on recruiting him, Marcus noticed that one of the bodyguards had stayed behind. Raising an eyebrow at the man, he said nothing as he pulled out a card and laid it on the table. Looking at it, Marcus recognized it to be the same one used in the public storage on the ship. He then looked at the code and saw it belonged to the more secured part of the storage area catering to the more paranoid. Marcus nodded his thanks, and the bodyguard turned to leave. Marcus watched him. He wasn¡¯t really expecting much from the meeting other than getting a feel for their leadership. As far as he knew, they looked to be solid enough. The container van was a good enough surprise and Marcus looked at the tag and wondered what¡¯s inside, hoping that it would be something that he could use in the end. With one more meeting lined up, Marcus took his seat and took a sip of the nonalcoholic drink. It was like drinking decaffeinated coffee, but then again, what¡¯s the point of drinking it if he didn¡¯t even like the taste that much? ¡°I think it¡¯s a good enough change of pace to have you call me in instead of the other way around.¡± Columbus said as he took the seat. ¡°I¡¯d say that it¡¯s easy to assume you¡¯ve heard enough of what happened in the station the past few days.¡± Marcus started, ¡°Ever since the last job I did for you, there had been some developments on my end which also allowed me to have access to a way to power level yourself for credits. Are you interested? It¡¯s for a good cause.¡± ¡°Would I be wrong to assume that¡¯s connected to the guns you¡¯re running to the station?¡± ¡°I¡¯d say you hit close to the mark.¡± ¡°How much do you need? And what¡¯s the conversion rate?¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°Depends on how the chief was feeling when he¡¯s giving out the points. As far as I can see, the system is the one divvying it up depending on the contributed weapons and how much it would affect the station. Of course, those guns could be bought as well as looted from dead bodies. With that, I¡¯d say that it¡¯s around 10,000 to 15,000c per contribution point which you could exchange to 10,000 exp each.¡± Columbus chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s a good enough offer, but I don¡¯t think I need the exp right now.¡± He said. ¡°Of course.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°But that¡¯s not the only reason I called you here.¡± ¡°You want me to spread the word?¡± Columbus asked. ¡°If you could do me that favor,¡± Marcus nodded, ¡°I think it¡¯s better for me to keep this in my circles, you know. I can¡¯t just open up the same offer to some random chuckle fuck in the walking in the middle of the street. I need someone that¡¯s reliable and wouldn¡¯t just be in it for the profits while letting everyone else work hard for it. You know what I¡¯m saying?¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Columbus replied, ¡°I¡¯ll spread the word to whoever I can. No promises, but if there are any takers, then expect them to come to you in a few days¡¯ time.¡± ¡°Thanks man.¡± Marcus said, ¡°You don¡¯t know how much that means to me.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet.¡± Columbus said, leaving. The streets up on the higher floors were just as filled with players as any part of the day. Marcus went to the Malina¡¯s stall to find it crowded. Players lined up, with the queue reaching around the corner. Everyone seems to be looking for the hours-long buff. Not only that, it¡¯s affordable for the normal player, and the buff would last them most of their play session, which left nothing to think about. It¡¯s a no brainer. Through the gaps between the players, Marcus saw the old auntie busy catering to the orders. With the same practiced motion of years of experience, she moved efficiently as to finish the orders to the quickest. Marcus walked past, seeing that there wouldn¡¯t be any chance of him exchanging the small parcel of tea he got from the station. With nothing else to do, Marcus went ahead and walked over to the landing port, following the screams of engines as landers touched down on armored plating, while others took off towards the sky at breakneck speeds. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Marcus stood at the view deck built into the side of the ship and watched as the lander grew smaller from a house sized craft to a simple dot reflecting in the distance and disappearing against the blue sky. With the breeze blowing through the city, the faint sound of automatic fire whispered at the edge of his hearing. The deck provided an uncontested view of the city. The dead, abandoned city in which players from all over different asteroids, planets and habitation satellites made it their playground. Only a small portion of those people played in the region, of course, but Marcus felt a sense of disconnect about the scale of what¡¯s in front of him. It was rare for him to have some time of his own. Lighting up a cigarette, he decided to spend it staring blankly at the ruined city ahead. ¡°200,000 people used to live in this city. Now it¡¯s only populated by ghosts and long forgotten memories.¡± A voice called behind him. Marcus turned to look at the source to find a man sitting at another small table. He looked to be late 40s early 50s. He wore short, salt and pepper hair with crow¡¯s feet creeping on the corner of his eyes. Sharp eyes looked back at him as he sipped at his cold drink, condensation trailing from the side of the glass and dropped on the top of his crisp, well ironed pants. Even in a game, and in the future, Marcus could easily recognize that it was some dress uniform which he wore, a cop, soldier, or a ship crew. He was no doubt an NPC, programmed to give exposition to any player willing to listen. With some time in his hands, Marcus decided to give it a run. ¡°Given what I see right now, I hope they managed to get away.¡± He replied. ¡°Most left when the war started, and only a fraction decided to stay. Either they believed in their duty of staying and supported the fight in their own way, or they just couldn¡¯t leave since they had nowhere to go.¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing that long before this ship landed?¡± ¡°Before, during, after. The same could be said, the only difference is who stayed and who left.¡± ¡°Then which do you belong to? The one who stayed because of duty, or the one who stayed because he has to?¡± The man shrugged, sipping at his drink. ¡°Both. Do you know that this ship was first christened as a colony ship?¡± ¡°I heard about it. First was a colony ship bringing the first wave of colonists, then it was converted into a mining ship after it unloaded all its cargo, a warship, then now just a hulk laying in the middle of an empty city.¡± ¡°That is quite a way to abridge its history, but you were right.¡± He said in a melancholic voice. Reaching over to a handrail to his side, he repeated, ¡°You were right.¡± ¡°Maybe I was too harsh to call it a hulk.¡± Marcus corrected himself, seeing the NPC¡¯s reaction. ¡°Since that¡¯s more representative of something long dead. Right now, the ship is still alive, so I guess you can say that it¡¯s like a seed. Right now, it might not look much, but given time, and resources, it will grow to something much grander and much more important that what it started as.¡± He shrugged, ¡°All it needs right now is to keep the ants running around it to stop making a mess of the place.¡± ¡°That¡¯s interesting, considering that you¡¯re one of the ants.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°What can I say? This ant might know what he''s doing, but it won¡¯t stop it from doing it. It¡¯s just in their nature, it¡¯s what this ant needed to do.¡± ¡°Interesting.¡± The NPC repeated, his eyes blank, already in a place far away. ¡°We¡¯ll, if you don¡¯t mind, I gotta go.¡± Marcus said, getting up. Break¡¯s over. He still needed to check the flea market to see what he could get on the cheap, along with getting in touch with Malinka to see what¡¯s the take. It was, of course, the reason he¡¯s fighting his own small war in the first place. The man didn¡¯t reply, to which Marcus only shrugged. There was a large chance to find him again sitting on the viewing deck for some reason he needed to talk to him, but Marcus thought the chance of that to be unlikely. Back inside the ship, Marcus chanced upon a lull in Malinka¡¯s business. Despite the tiring work, she still managed to greet him with a smile along with his preferred skewer already grilling on the fire. There were other players sitting in the stall, causing Marcus to signal to save the business talk for later. Right now, as far as everyone knows, he¡¯s just another customer. ¡°Hey lady, I might need to top up later. When¡¯s the closing time?¡± Marcus said after he finished his meal. ¡°We close by nine. Make sure you get back here by then.¡± She replied. With that, Marcus nodded. He paid and left, going to the market on the level below. Inside the cargo elevator, Marcus looked through the safety grates and saw a familiar figure standing within a group by the vehicle bay. They were gathered around a pair of armored vehicles Marcus recognized as the Russian equivalent of an armored humvee, a tiger, Tigr, or something. The two Tigrs sported a light blue digital camo pattern and was fitted with a remote weapons system on top. Their clan¡¯s logo, a silhouette of a man squatting with a bottle in front of him, was printed on a small flag on the end of the vehicle¡¯s radio antenna, along with being painted on the side. As if sensing the eyes on him, Melnik looked up, and both men locked gazes. Recognizing Marcus, Melnik then waved for him. As Marcus approached, Melnik then turned to Razer, talking to him about something in a language Marcus could only assume was Russian. ¡°He¡¯s asking if you want a ride. We could even let you shoot the guns on it.¡± Razer said, as Marcus got within earshot. ¡°I¡¯m not that easy to get, dude.¡± Marcus chuckled. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s some nice set of wheels.¡± ¡°Yeah. We just got it.¡± Razer replied. ¡°How would someone get a car, anyway?¡± ¡°You get it through the Interchange Alliance. For us, we had to put in an order along with a three day waiting time. These two just came in with the latest convoy.¡± Marcus looked at the car and wondered how it would be like riding on one, let alone having to own one. ¡°Man, I don¡¯t think I could even afford to look at it.¡± Marcus muttered. ¡°How much does this one cost?¡± Razer shrugged. ¡°I think just the car costs around 1.2 million credits. The remote weapons system cost another million.¡± ¡°Fuck me.¡± Marcus muttered. That¡¯s two months¡¯ worth of his living expenses just for an imaginary car. ¡°And you have two?¡± ¡°We wanted to have more since we plan to have all our members riding inside one, but there¡¯s a hard cap for how much a clan could have depending on their level. Right now, all we can get is two.¡± ¡°Too bad. I bet you all would have rolled them up easily if you guys could get more heavy equipment in play. At the least, this will change a lot of things. They wouldn¡¯t be able to just roll around as if they own the place.¡± Razer nodded, then turned to his clan as they waved for him. ¡°I have to go. See you later.¡± He said, running off. Marcus watched as the group loaded up in their armored trucks and rolled out of the ship. Curious as to what Melnik gave to him, Marcus went towards the storage area and used the identification to call up the container. Excitement rose as the container van was taken off the stack by the overhead cranes and lowered to his level. Using the card, he opened the container. His breath caught in his throat. Inside the container van were stacks of Russian ammunition in crates. Racks of guns filled with factory new AKMs and RPG-7s with more crates of rockets. On top of the crates is a note, written: ¡°Despite you trying, you did not hide your intentions well enough. You need weapons. This is my thanks for playing with my grandson. He had a great time and couldn¡¯t stop talking about it. He does not show it well, but he is happy. For that, so am I.¡± Marcus lowered the note and looked back at the contents of the crate. ¡°Thanks Uncle Joe.¡± He muttered.
AKM A select fire, gas piston system operated rifle chambered in 7.62x39mm. Developed after the second world war in an effort of the Soviet Union¡¯s effort to equip its massive army with medium ranged combat rifles. An estimated two hundred millions were built including other variants of the same base rifle. It had been present in virtually every conflict and was considered to be the Soviet Union¡¯s greatest export during its height and its fall. Caliber: 7.62x39mm Familiarity: 0 Requirement: 3 Str Weight: 3.3 Kg Firing Mode: Semi/Automatic Rate of Fire: 600 RPM Mods: None
RPG-7v2 Is a portable shoulder fired, reusable, anti-tank, rocket propelled grenade launcher. Rugged, simple, and low cost, it is the most common RPG launcher in circulation. It utilized a number of warheads ranging from fragmentation and single stage HEAT, to thermobaric. Familiarity: 0 Requirement: 6 Str, lvl 5 Explosives skill Weight: 6.3 Kg Mods: PGO-7 Telescopic sight
PG-7VL Single Stage HEAT Improved 93 mm High-explosive-Anti-Tank warhead for the RPG-7. Effective against most vehicles and fortified targets. An incremental upgrade over the original PG-7V, it features improved shaped charge design resulting in improved penetration capabilities. As a safety feature, the warhead will self detonate at approximately 950m. Effective Range: 500m Penetration: 330mm RHA Weight: 2.2 kg Arming Range: 5m
As Marcus finished reading all the descriptions, he chuckled, wondering how much damage he could inflict with this much hardware. CH 45: Fish in a barrel
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Marcus closed the screen and clutched the RPG-7. It was currently unloaded for safety and he pulled out a single stage HEAT warhead from his pack and inserted it into the tube snug and twisted it locked. Marcus peeked over the windowsill at the sound of diesel engines coming closer and signalled for Rex, who was armed with the second RPG-7, to remove the safety pin on his warhead. Through a combination of intelligence and luck, the convoy took a known route towards the ship for resupply. The presence of the TAS¡¯s Tigr vehicles, armed with the remote weapon system, armed with a Kord 12.7mm heavy machine gun, gave an even field all around and forced the SRT to keep to known and ¡®safer¡¯ routes. This allowed for Ylenka and her scouting soirees to find and learn these routes and get an idea of their patterns. One of which was to send the JLTV and up-armored Humvee to scout the route ahead of time and drive away or kill everything in sight. Humans have always been creatures of habit, and if Marcus knew something about hunting, then knowing his quarry¡¯s daily preferences and patterns is half of the hunt. The second is catching them while they¡¯re in the middle of their patterned actions and taking your shot. Now, with their quarry moving into their preferred route, all they needed to do was wait. Marcus had called an all hands on deck with the Honest scribe, Anna and Rex, and even Gabs and Fleex with the three other freshly recruited goblins joining in for the fight. Looking over to the other room, the goblins crouched under the window and behind a brick wall, and waiting for his signal. Four were armed with AKMs, with the last one equipped with a ballistic shield. It was a punishment position, reserved for the worst shot in the goblin squad. The fighters looked back at him and clutched at their weapons in a white knuckled grip while doing their best not to show their nervous ticks. One was constantly wiping his sweaty palms on his ragged shirt while another kept touching a trinket on his wrist. Marcus was not the type of leader to shut it down. These actions were their own way of coping. As long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with the job at hand, then they are free to do so. Marcus had everyone split into teams, with Ylenka leading the rest of the Honest scribe on the other side of the street, with Marcus leading his five goblins with Anna and Rex. Both positions overlooked a stretch of road filled with cars pushed into the curb to widen the passage and were flanked with tall brick and concrete buildings providing excellent cover for anyone within. As of the moment, they were in a penthouse suite on the fourth floor of an abandoned hotel. Decorative red brick walls lined the exterior of the building, giving a combination of old 18th century aesthetic combined with modern furniture. The room was provided with wide windows showing a wide vista of the city¡¯s downtown district and the road below. The ship loomed in the distance, dominating the skyline with its massive steel hull, which landers flew through and fro. Marcus crouched by position near the balcony, out of sight of anyone on the street level. The rumbling of a trio of diesel engines sounded below and he looked ahead on the building opposite him. There, Ylenka positioned her team to provide small arms support and make sure that any foot soldiers running around wouldn¡¯t be able to bother Marcus and his team who carried the ambush¡¯s explosives. His heart raced as the vehicles crept closer under them and he looked ahead, towards the darkened window on the other side of the street, waiting for their spotter on the other side of the road to give them the signal. The engine noise was almost too loud against the dead silence of the dead city. A light then flashed through the window, and Marcus stood up to full height and leaned over the balcony railing. Rex followed, and the two had a few seconds max to make the shot before being spotted by whoever was manning the JLTV¡¯s remote weapons system. Looking through the sights and centering it to the lead vehicle, he could see the JLTV at the head of the column followed by an unarmored five ton cargo truck with a covered bed and a humvee closing the convoy. Firing straight down and at a target three stories below, their hit probability was practically a hundred percent. The convoy was too close together, three armored vehicles scattered along a five car span. Marcus would have preferred to hit the humvee at the rear, but they needed to halt the convoy to buy time for the TAS to get their own vehicles on the fight and have a chance of eliminating all of them. ¡°Fire on mark. Three, two, one. Mark!¡± Marcus called and pulled the trigger. Two rockets launched almost simultaneously. From their previous engagement with the QRF convoy, they have found out that a single RPG round would not penetrate through the vehicle¡¯s installed energy shields. Which is why they brought two. The pair of rockets rocked the leading JLTV as their HEAT warheads exploded against its shields, shattering it. The lead JLTV stopped, blocking the rest of the convoy. They have hit the lead of the column where the long line of abandoned cars was at the narrowest. Dust billowed up from the explosions and covered the armored vehicle. The cloud obscured Marcus¡¯s view of the extent of the damage as he pulled back into cover. Guns erupted all around. Ylenka and her team leaned out of the positions and shot at the vehicles with the intent of chipping at their shields and denying the shield generators time to recharge. The cacophony was joined by the distinct pops of smoke dispensers installed on the vehicles. Soon, the street was covered with white smoke, covering the convoy. Marcus had already backed off the balcony and was already inside the penthouse as .50cal rounds ripped through the floor of the balcony. The heavy bullets punched through inches of poured concrete like it was nothing. Through the holes, Marcus could see the streets below. While pulling another warhead from his pack, Marcus looked over to Anna, who was looking through blinds of Mylar sheets and holes punched through to accommodate Marcus¡¯ thermal scope. Marcus had lent it to her for the duration of the ambush since it would be instrumental within the operation because of its ability to see through the smoke. Anna was looking intently through the scope while holding a radio to her face. ¡°Dismounts, dismounts.¡± She screamed through the radio. ¡°They¡¯re opening the back hatch. Drop your grenades now!¡± A dozen grenades flew out of the ambush positions, four men tasked with tossing three each out of the windows. The grenades landed in the street below and detonated, unleashing a storm of deadly shrapnel that ricocheted off concrete and armor, some finding and disintegrating against a player¡¯s personal shield, while others found the flesh of players with broken protection. ¡°Confirmed three kills. Five left still mobile, they have entered the building with the ice cream shop.¡± Anna reported. Clicking the warhead into the launcher, Marcus peeked over the lip of the balcony. The streets were still covered with thick smoke and hiding the vehicles within the cloud. The remote weapon system installed atop the leading JLTV hadn¡¯t been impeded by the smoke and was continuing to lie down, suppressing fire. Small arms, save for bigger calibers loaded with armor piercing ammunition, do not have a chance to penetrate the armor of the JLTV. Rounds smashed against the building opposite Marcus¡¯ position. There, Ylenka had positioned her own fighters, and all were driven away into harder cover, lest they catch a single round of .50 caliber and get killed instantly. The rounds continued chewing up the concrete, and Marcus saw shields flare in the darkness of the building. Rounds impacted around him, some hitting their mark and splattering against his shields. Marcus took cover and risked a peek around a decorative column to receive a face full of pulverized concrete. The round barely missed him, hitting his cover, but Marcus saw the fire coming from the dismounted QRF. They had established a base of fire on the other side of the street and were engaging their building, exchanging fire with his team of goblins. ¡°2nd team. Be advised, the dismounts have established a base of fire in the restaurant building.¡± Marcus said through the radio. Marcus looked over at Razer, who was coordinating the attack with the rest of the TAS. The clan was supposed to sortie their own armored vehicles to help with the ambush, in case it goes well. Their KORD 12.7 machine gun would be able to punch through the JLTV¡¯s armor and take them out with a sustained burst of fire. ¡°Where¡¯s the trucks?¡± Marcus asked Razer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Hartdegen, really sorry. They reported that they¡¯re a hundred meters out of the clan base when they hit a cluster of mines. The detonation disabled one of the vehicles, but the SRT wasn''t able to destroy it before they were driven away. The top didn¡¯t think it''s wise to send the other Tigr unsupported.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Well fuck me then.¡± Marcus grumbled. Still, he couldn¡¯t blame the TAS too much, the arrival of their armored vehicles meant that they were a prime target for the SRT. So it wasn¡¯t unexpected for them to set up their own ambushes. What was surprising was how quickly they managed to catch the TAS in an ambush. ¡°All units, be advised. Tigrs have been hit and will not be able to join in the operation. We¡¯ll initiate Plan B. We¡¯ll take out whatever we can and bug out.¡± He said through the comms. It was just his luck for something catastrophic to happen in the vital stages of the plan. Still, they have six warheads split evenly between him and Rex, with two already loaded in their launchers. They should be able to get enough damage if they manage to land a solid hit with the softer vehicles. But the combination of the smoke covered by the street, the JLTV being able to see through thermal imaging, and the dismounts being able to hunker into one of the buildings made taking a clear shot with the RPGs a challenge. Still, with the Tigrs being engaged on the other part of the city, it meant that all the SRT members available are all in the ambush area and have little risk of having another SRT element creep up on them and join in on the ongoing shitshow. As long as they could keep their losses to a minimum, they could just wait for the smoke to dissipate and creep into another firing position to get a clear shot. With that, Marcus reached for the radio. ¡°All units, all units. We wait out the smoke. It¡¯s the only thing keeping them alive, keep them pinned. Keep chipping at their shields. Make sure casualties are at the minimum and do not engage in frontal fights. Shoot and scoot, use the windows of the buildings to your advantage and make sure the dismounts do not catch you unawares. As for us, we will be relocating to the secondary firing position. This spot is already compromised.¡± ¡°Copy that.¡± Ylenka replied. Marcus gave a shrill whistle, which cut through the gunfire around. Anna and Rex looked at him and gave him a thumb¡¯s up, indicating that they got the orders. Nodding, Marcus crouched towards where his goblins were located. Gabs and Fleex were fine, save for some superficial wounds brought upon by small fragments they caught in the chaos of the firefight, but one was wounded, shot in the arm and was being tended by another goblin. ¡°Anna! Get in here, we got wounded.¡± Marcus yelled through the din. Anna came from the other room and handed the thermal scope to Rex. She then ran towards the wounded goblin, reaching for the casualty with a bandage already in hand. ¡°You guys go ahead, we¡¯ll follow shortly.¡± She said. The secondary position was in another building adjacent to their current position. It was inferior to their current base of fire as it provided less cover with its wide open glass windows. It was an office with compressed fiber board dividers, unlike the posh hotel suite they are in now. Still, it had concrete walls and gave the same wide view of the streets below and was just as good as a firing position, only it didn¡¯t provide much hard cover. Running down the floors, Marcus led the way. He had traded the RPG-7 for the MDR he stashed in the corner and handed the RPG to one of the goblins for him to carry. On the way down, Marcus made sure to stay away from the windows facing the streets where the convoy was trapped and exited to the back alleys behind the building. He checked if it was clear using his thermal scopes, and it was. They then moved a few buildings down. The shield bearer ran ahead, doing his job as a moving cover. Entering the building through the back door, they ran up the floors into the secondary position just as Marcus heard the roaring of diesel engines. Marcus threw the MDR and took the launcher. He and Rex ran to the sliding glass doors leading to the office balcony to find the convoy inching slowly forward. With another pop of smoke from the dispensers, the smokescreen was renewed. Although the window wall provided no protection against bullets, it concealed their thermal signature. Marcus could see nothing through the smoke, but the roaring of engines meant that the convoy was moving. The remote weapons system atop the JLTV was not firing. Marcus then realized that they were using the sights installed on the gun to see through the smoke and were guiding the vehicle through the haze. He could only guess that they were using the rear lights to guide the vehicles behind it through the smoke as the rest of the convoy slowly moved forward out of the ambush zone. Marcus had to give it to them. They were thinking fast. Pulling the safety off the warhead, Marcus crouched and waited within view of the street. Rex did the same, and the two patiently watched and listened at the low growl of the engines ahead of them. From their position, they could see the edge of the smoke. The rumbling of engines grew louder and Marcus finally saw the armored front of the JLTV emerge from the haze. It bore scorch marks from the two HEAT warheads, which failed to penetrate its hood. ¡°We¡¯ll hit the cargo truck when it emerges.¡± Marcus muttered, and Rex nodded. Following the JLTV through the smoke, the cargo truck emerged. Rounds still harried the vehicle as its shields flared and shimmered from the bullets impacting it. Marcus then gave the signal and opened the sliding door. Rex did the same, and both men stepped out onto the balcony and aimed their launchers at the unarmored vehicle. The back blast from the rockets leaving the launcher shattered the glass windows behind them, and two HEAT warheads exploded against the truck in quick succession. The first warhead detonated against the truck¡¯s shields, breaking it while the other impacted against its front hood, sending a jet of melted copper into the engine block and transmission, disabling it. The truck rocked from the explosion, with the windshield disintegrating along with the driver behind it. The truck rolled a few feet forwards and swerved to its left before hitting a derelict car and stopping it in its tracks. Its hulk blocked the road, only providing enough space for foot soldiers to come through but not vehicles. Flames licked the truck¡¯s undercarriage as the explosion ruptured the fuel tank. Diesel spilled into the street, fumes spilled and ignited, causing the vehicle to go up in flames. The humvee, rolling behind the truck, tried to push against the burning hulk to get out of the ambush site, and was only successful in lodging it stuck even more. With the back end of the truck still well within the smokescreen, the humvee was blind. Marcus grinned and retreated back into the office building as rounds impacted behind and around them. His shields flared from the impacts coming from the dismounts, firing from their position as he reloaded his RPG. ¡°Let¡¯s move. This position is burned too.¡± Marcus said to Rex. Rex only nodded. He was bleeding from multiple spots, but all looked to be superficial wounds taken from fragments flying from multiple near misses. Marcus wondered for a second if he looked just the same. Reloading the RPG, they bid their time. The Humvee below was still blind inside the thick smoke, unable to move forward, only back. Marcus heard the vehicle smash and crumple against other wrecked cars on the side of the road. ¡°Team 1. We are trying to take out the dismounts in the restaurant building but they have dug in hard.¡± Ylenka reported through the radio. ¡°Roger that. Just keep them there. We¡¯ll handle the Humvee and get to you soon.¡± Marcus replied. They have time. Marcus then led the way back into the alley behind the buildings and all ran towards the end of the block, peeking around the corner building. Through the dissipating smoke, Marcus could see the still lit rear lights of the humvee along with its boxy form. Thirty meters away, it was still trying to get out but backed off into another wrecked vehicle as it tried to back away and only managed to position itself facing the buildings, presenting its side to Marcus and Rex¡¯s position. The firefight is still going on around them. Ylenka was keeping the five still surviving dismounts busy. They didn¡¯t have a clear shot. A wrecked car was between them and the Humvee and they couldn¡¯t just thread the warhead around the car as it risked the rocket¡¯s stabilizing fins getting caught up and changing trajectory. They could try to move up, but it risked the Humvee moving inside the RPG warhead¡¯s five meter arming distance. ¡°Fuck it. There¡¯s no way around it. We¡¯ll have to expose ourselves in the middle of the street to get a clean shot.¡± Marcus said to Rex. ¡°On three?¡± Rex asked. ¡°On three.¡± Marcus repeated. He then turned to the goblins and pointed at the restaurant building. ¡°Cover us, and shoot there. Single shots and make sure to be inside the building.¡± He said. Everyone nodded, even the shield bearer, who was diligently carrying the shield. Marcus saw it in the goblin¡¯s eyes that he wanted to get out there and be useful, but their situation gave no chance of that and so Marcus only ignored him. Marcus then counted down and at the mark, the two ran to the middle of the street, armed with nothing but RPGs. Anyone watching the street would have an easy time taking the two of them out and Marcus remembered the video of that one insurgent doing the same thing and getting wasted by two bursts from a distant M249 Saw Machine gun. A trio of AK rifles suppressed the restaurant building and thankfully, no machine gun burst came to rip them to shreds. The two then ran up to the middle of the street, stopping at the double line, took a knee, and aimed. Through the sights, Marcus saw the driver of the vehicle look in their direction inside the fading smoke and recognized a look of resignation in the driver¡¯s face before Marcus pulled the trigger. Launching, the rockets flew straight, and both warheads impacted the side of the Humvee. One broke the shield, and the other found its mark hitting the side door, sending a molted jet of copper inside the cabin and burning everyone inside alive. There was no spectacular secondary explosion. And if there was, Marcus was too busy running back to cover to care. Rex and Marcus reached safety, followed by the goblins peeling off their position. The goblins reloaded on the move, making sure to keep their empty mags on their person instead of throwing it to the side. Despite the situation, Marcus had to make sure they kept to their training and was gratified that his efforts did not turn out in vain. Reloading their last warheads, Marcus asked team 2 through the radio. ¡°How is your situation there? Over.¡± ¡°Still keeping them inside, wouldn¡¯t mind some assistance.¡± ¡°Roger that.¡± Marcus replied, then turned to Rex. ¡°You know the best way to clear a room?¡± ¡°Five-man team, and pie the corners?¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°Nah. Open the door and throw a grenade in it.¡± He replied. CH 46: When there is no war Six goblins lined up in a wooden booth made of scrap wood, AKMs in their hands and dutifully practiced under the watchful eye of both Marcus and Gabs. The generous gift Melnik gave Marcus more than secured their present needs for quality arms and ammunition. After transporting everything and divvying everything with Marcus giving half of the container to the chief, Marcus was left with a 40 crates of 7.62x39mm rounds, 6 pristine AKMs, four RPG launchers and half a dozen HEAT warheads after fitting his dozen goblins to what he considered as a bare combat load-out. The fight between the TAS and SRT had rapidly cooled down after the successful ambush that took out two of the SRTs vehicles and a dozen of their players. Still, Rex, Anna, Ylenka and the rest of the Honest scribes continued harrying the clan by killing any member they found outside the ship. The TAS did the same after finally having the upper hand after days of fighting with the other clan. The SRT didn¡¯t have a base to attack, instead; they leased spaces within the ship which required them to pay exorbitant weekly rent. This is why most clans trying to establish their own stake in the region tend to establish their own base in the city. Still, in exchange for the high prices for vehicle bays and clan space inside the ship, it guaranteed protection from any clan from attacking their base and taking their collected loot. That was three days ago. And from the grapevine, Marcus learned of the ceasefire established between the two groups and was then confirmed by Razer the next time they met. A new status quo then emerged, with the two clans licking their wounds with the TAS fortifying their factory, which Marcus then later learned to have been geared up to produce their own ammunition. The SRT then decided to move out of the ship and used the ceasefire to set out and establish their own base of operations in the city¡¯s suburbs in the south. With the clans going their own ways, it was likely that both sides were only catching their breath, waiting for the next fight between them to start. Even with both clan¡¯s leadership content on letting bygones be bygones, their fighters in the lower ranks would likely develop their bad blood against the other side, and by extension, Marcus¡¯s group. As far as Marcus knew, the ceasefire was only between the TAS and the SRT and did not extend with Marcus¡¯ group, which painted huge targets on their backs. The cacophony of half a dozen rifle firing echoed throughout the underground shooting range. The noise took Marcus off his musing, and he looked up just as Gabs then ordered them to cease firing. Every shooter then ran to their paper targets a hundred meters away and lined up for Marcus to inspect. Looking at the targets, their marksmanship was passable. All six were able to fit a dinner plate sized group within their target¡¯s torso. All the time Marcus spent on drilling the fundamentals on these goblins bore some fruit, as his goblins were at least theoretically able to hit their marks within a human¡¯s center mass. Of course, with the player¡¯s armors and shields, they would have to hit their targets repeatedly to kill them, but enough rifles shooting at the same player would likely take him or her out in the first volley. Marcus nodded, then gave an order for them to continue. Moving away from the shooting range, Marcus arrived at the obstacle course which was being run by Fleex, who was overseeing his own six squads of goblins. The goblins would run a short sprint with mock rifles carved from wood and vests filled with sand towards the obstacle course. It had been a project, costing Marcus a favor with Bo. The course offered tires everyone had to run through, with each leg landing within the holes, monkey bars, and a pull up log set low enough to accommodate their shorter stature. At first, the goblins were skeptical with the sets of structures but soon grew popular with the Chief, but not his men. The goblins running the course didn¡¯t pause at Marcus¡¯ approach. Fleex only gave a short salute to him as he approached, then went back to overseeing his own squad. As he passed the newly promoted goblin Sargeant, Marcus patted him on the back and followed the scent of something foul wafting through the tunnels. Marcus soon arrived at the goblin¡¯s shrine and where he first encountered the spider turret with Columbus. The turret was gone, already worked on by Bo and transported to the main entrance to replace the second one destroyed by Crusty¡¯s attack. Underneath where the turret was, a huge cauldron boiled over a large fire filled to the brim with Malif meat and an assortment of edible mushrooms to feed and sustain his small force of NPC goblins. Despite the volume of food needed, the setup didn¡¯t cost Marcus much, as the meat was provided by his forces themselves during their hunting rounds, which also doubled as training time. The mushrooms that were a staple in the station were sold relatively cheap. Bountiful food was a secondary result of arming the station. With their newly acquired weapons, the goblins were able to expand their secured territory underground, killing and driving off the ever numerous Malifs that plagued their underground home. It also expanded their tea production, but the increased profits from the cash crop would have to wait until their harvest and processing, which should take another week. Bo had also made large progress on further fortifying the station. His work in the past few days made the station into a veritable fortress. The halls were made into practical death zones. Large steel plates, set and secured on the concrete floor, were strategically positioned at the end of every long hallway. They served as one way fighting positions with viewing ports and barrel cutouts. Slanted back at an angle, bullets impacting the steel would rather ricochet to the ceiling rather than land squarely. The slanted angle also had the effect of increasing the projected thickness of the plate. That way, it would take high caliber armor-piercing rounds to penetrate the emplaced covers, but rifles and machine guns in those calibers were heavy and unwieldy, almost impossible to use under the tight confines of the station. Also, to deny the attackers from using the defenses for themselves, metal spikes were set in front of the steel plates, any attacker sitting on the other side of the defenses ran the risk of getting impaled. Of course, that is not even including the explosives. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Marcus¡¯ head swam at the notion of attacking the station. A hundred men would fail to take over the station. Tons of explosives would have to be used for a successful attack. Every hallway is a deathtrap, every meter of ground would have to be paid in blood, and for what? A station with electricity and water? Infrastructure that would be destroyed once the station would be overrun? No, taking this station is no longer worth it to take by force. Better to leave it be rather than paying the price to acquire a hole filled with nothing but rubble at the end of the battle. As for Bo himself, he used all his gathered contribution points to shoot himself past level 20, sitting smugly 2 levels above Marcus, who sat at 23. It was fine with Marcus; he wasn¡¯t the type of person to always compare himself with others. Walking past the once again bustling market, Marcus passed a squad of Goblins armed with their station made 9mm SMG from his and Bo¡¯s design. They had done away with their crude shotguns and developed a love with automatics. With the next shipment of tea, Chief Tiul had already ordered as much 9mm as he could buy. And as it just happened, Marcus knows a guy. Entering the Bo¡¯s shop. Everyone Marcus had called up for the short operation had gathered. Ylenka and the rest of the Honest scribe, Anna and Rex, then finally Bo. The hum of their conversations stopped at his entrance and everyone turned to look. ¡°I think all of you already know why I had you all gathered.¡± Marcus started. The long lull in the fighting dictated that the contract binding everyone under him had to end. The station is secure, and so should the contract. ¡°I think it¡¯s time to end the contract. Its purpose has all been fulfilled, and I don¡¯t want to hold it over all of you.¡± ¡°I think we could all agree that we''re all fine if you hold it in perpetuity.¡± Ylenka replied, and everyone nodded. Although the contract didn¡¯t have a clause on how long it could hold, Marcus doubted that he could hold it in perpetuity. There were just too many ways to exploit his contract skill if it happened to be the case, as anyone with the same ability could easily fabricate scams that could target a lot of players. Marcus gave a wry smile, but shook his head. Although the notion of keeping everyone in the room under him by keeping the contract running seemed good enough, all good things have to come to an end. ¡°My mind is set. We end it now. There is no reason to keep it any longer. I¡¯ll write up a draft of another contract for another time in case we need to regroup for another operation, but as things are going now, I don¡¯t think that will be in the immediate future, not this week at least.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Then how about we set up our own clan?¡± Ylenka offered. ¡°Make it official since we¡¯re all operating like one anyway. We have our base of operations, although small, but homely,¡± Ylenka paused, smiling at Bo. ¡°We have a revenue stream with the tea, and enemies promising PK whenever they see us and us doing the same thing to them. We are a clan all but in name.¡± She said, with everyone nodding in agreement. The ball is in his court. Marcus looked at everyone present and they all looked to be in the same opinion. They needed to get together in a group, that¡¯s for sure. To break apart now would only lead to all of them being killed separately. Marcus sighed and took another look at everyone. A team of historians able to handle their own when things get hairy, a pair of medic and assaulter with the drive to excel, a lone engineer who built up an underground settlement into a fortress. All of them were waiting on his word to establish a group which Marcus would lead. ¡°Let me think about it.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°What¡¯s there to think about?¡± Anna asked, cutting in. ¡°I just got a lot of shit still need to do. Unlike all of you, I still got my personal quests pending, and I also got the goblins to take care of. I don¡¯t know if adding the responsibility to running a clan with it would do me well at all.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re all grown up. We can take care of ourselves.¡± Anna piped up, which everyone agreed. ¡°I know that. Just give me some time to think about it, alright?¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Understandable. We can wait,¡± Ylenka replied, and Marcus gave a thankful nod. ¡°But we¡¯ll give you a few days max.¡± He agreed. And with that, Marcus ended the contract and, just as stipulated, they held a meeting between all of them on how to divvy up the spoils according to the shares. Since Melnik¡¯s gift, they have decided not to give the loot they have taken off the successful ambush where they took out two vehicles along with the following operations to the Chief. With that, they managed to gather quite a haul. Throughout the duration of fighting with the TAS, Marcus¡¯ group managed to confirm their kills and loot a total of 25 bodies. After gathering everything, they came up with a total of 12 bare M4s, 3 modified M4s, 3 M240, 2 M16, 5461 rounds of 5.56x45mm ammunition, 1511 rounds of 7.62x51mm, 55 M61 grenades, rations and gear. The total estimated value reached 320,000c, which they could take for their own or give to the station in exchange for contribution points they could then exchange for exp. Marcus also added a cool 100 contribution points he had received from the Chief and it all added up to a respectable amount. Still, despite all the stipulations Marcus added at the end of their signed contracts, everybody just agreed to split up everything equally among the ten of them, shares be damned. Add the exp, fame, and experience everyone received at the duration of the operation, Marcus could undoubtedly say that everyone came out ahead. After everything was divvied up, everybody wandered off. Marcus then went back to the shooting range to oversee his goblin force¡¯s training. Fleex¡¯s and Gabs¡¯ squads had swapped roles with Gabs¡¯ squad running the obstacle course and Fleex doing range time. Seeing as he needed time by himself to think, Marcus left explicit instructions for the goblins to continue their training and collect the brass and keep their paper targets for later review and accounting. Not that he would count the brass himself, but it was a deterrent for the goblins to shirk their shooting practice and simply use the bullets to spend on the market and buy whatever they want at his expense. Marcus had read about unreliable troops in the middle east selling their equipment issued, and he was determined to eliminate that risk right at the bud. Passing through multiple defensive positions, Marcus arrived at the edge of the line. There, the goblins were armed with the combinations of guns either bought through Marcus¡¯ gunrunning or locally produced. Marcus gave the sentries a friendly wave and was crawling through the tight tunnels when he received a notification. 7, 5, 20, 20, 15, 20, 8, 5, 19, 8, 9, 16, 9, 8, 1, 22, 5, 1, 16, 18, 15, 16, 15, 19, 9, 20, 9, 15, 14, 6, 15, 18, 25, 15, 21 Credits received from Player: Columbus. Marcus looked at the notification for a second before realizing that it was the same code he used with Columbus back then. Taking a minute to set the numbers to letters, he got; Get to the ship. I have a proposition for you. Marcus shrugged, transferring 15 and 11 credits corresponding to ok. It wouldn¡¯t hurt listening to Columbus if only to hear what he had for him. Besides, it could serve as a nice distraction after everything that happened. Ch 47: A personal errand It was prime time. Players crowded the bar as Marcus entered the Smoking barrels, but even with the crowd, he managed to Columbus easily. He sat at the tables and was nursing a drink and both locked gazes. Marcus nodded at him and approached the table. ¡°Have a seat.¡± Columbus said, gesturing to the other side of the table. Marcus pulled up a chair and took a load off. He then waved for a drink and asked. ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡± Columbus chuckled, ¡°Same as last time, I need you to get me someplace I need to be. Pay will be double than last time.¡± ¡°Should be enough.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°What do you have?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not finished. I¡¯ll also hire your dozen or so goblin mercenaries on this job. I¡¯m thinking 20,000c per head per day. Is that good?¡± Marcus grunted. His boys were still fresh, just barely able to shoot and as green as the color of their skin. He didn¡¯t plan to get them working to this extent this early, but then it was the reason he had them in the first place. ¡°When you said it would be the same as the last time, does that include equipping the force too?¡± ¡°Considering that I haven¡¯t asked for my thermals back, that would be no. I won¡¯t be upgrading your force¡¯s weapons, but I¡¯ll be providing the needed supplies.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s mine now? The thermals?¡± ¡°After the job.¡± Columbus nodded. Marcus grunted, pausing just enough to take the bottle of virtual beer and opening it against the tabletop. ¡°So, what¡¯s the job?¡± ¡°I need tunnel fighters. I got enough clues on my quest and found out that there is another rail line network underneath the current underground metro. I don¡¯t know where it leads to, but I suspect nothing good. That¡¯s why I need your forces who are able to fight and find their way underground.¡± ¡°Okay. When and how long will this take?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know how long.¡± Columbus shrugged. ¡°But as for when, I can schedule my day off for when we set off. Preferably, this weekend so I could get two days off following the weekend and get three days free. But if this quest happens to take more than that, then we could just stop and try it for another time. It looks to be the final part of the quest line I¡¯m following, and by the looks of it, it would be a challenge.¡± ¡°What do you think you¡¯ll find at the end of it?¡± ¡°Could be the holy grail, but it could also be just a peanut butter sandwich. I don¡¯t know, which is why we¡¯re trying to find out. Any other questions?¡± Columbus replied. Marcus could only nod. The response wasn¡¯t like Columbus. He was hiding something, but that usually comes with the job. The Smoking Barrels wasn¡¯t the best location to talk logistics and specific information about quests and he also wouldn¡¯t even fault the man for keeping some things for himself. ¡°All right, this weekend.¡± He said. He would still have two days for himself to think, along with it being enough time to get his personal quest sorted. ¡°Also, I¡¯d like you to know that I did my part of spreading the word among my circles. If none contacted you, then it seems like they just weren¡¯t interested in joining in clan fights as they tend to be messy.¡± He said. ¡°Also, a piece of advice?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t be the last you¡¯ll see of them. The SRT will try to find a way to pay you back.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Marcus replied. ¡°I¡¯ll message you the list.¡± He then opened up his screen and navigated through the interface. He had saved his estimated munitions consumption for his little force per day of engagement. Multiplying it by two, and adding more as a safety buffer for unique situations, he had his list. ITEMS: 6 crates 7.62x39mm 2 crates M61 Frag grenade 2 crates Road Flares 1 crate M84 stun grenade 2 box of Glowsticks 2 units of Lamps Survey equipment 7 boxes of MRE 6 boxes of chocolate bars ¡°I understand the need for the MREs, but really? Chocolates?¡± Columbus asked after reading the list. ¡°What can I say? The boys like them.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, I already had a dozen or so of my goblins relatively well equipped each with AKMs, Type 62 vests, Urban Digital Cadpat ponchos to break out the silhouettes. For backpacks, they got Alice packs, and each fighter is able to carry 40 pounds of gear comfortably. They¡¯ll be able to take with them all they should need in that two day operation. They don¡¯t need lights on their rifles since they could already see well under little light. In the tunnels, they should be able to fight just as well as they are on the surface.¡± ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll have it all ready by then.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°You got it.¡± Marcus replied. Columbus nodded and left while Marcus sat by himself. He still has some time for himself, now to address the little prick on his side, his unfinished quest.
Quest:
Your Father¡¯s guitar. Leaving your previous job as a bar musician in a small town, you took everything you had and sold the rest except for your father¡¯s beaten guitar he had passed down to you. Too bulky for luggage, you had it sent separately in a fast hauler to arrive before your arrival. Quest type: Personal Quest Requirements: Track your package and retrieve it.
It was a quest that had been a long time coming. What was likely a quest that should have been the first thing done got pushed into the back burner. Now that things have settled down somewhat with him having some means of keeping himself off the streets, he could finally get to cross it off his list. Marcus entered the ship¡¯s post office to find the same harried man running the place. Looking through the cage and into the back, Marcus could see the shelves were better stocked, and he only hoped that it would be a straightforward affair of picking up the package and moving on. But of course, it wasn¡¯t the case. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, sir. But your package hasn¡¯t arrived and has been written off as a loss. We have the paperwork for it and we can only provide you with reimbursement for the value of the package itself. Again, I¡¯m terribly sorry, sir.¡± The man said, bowing his head over the counter. ¡°No problem,¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Do you have some sort of tracking so that I could at least have a place to start to find my shit?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to help, sir. Since the information pertaining to your package is technically also yours, there shouldn¡¯t be any issue regarding it. Give me a few minutes, sir.¡± Marcus waited as the man pulled up the information and handed it to him. He read the logs where it travelled from a high speed freighter originating from his character¡¯s home planet, arriving to terminus, arriving at only space elevator still intact within Terminus 3, to some distribution area to another with the log ending with a report of it departing, Evinsburg, a city a hundred kilometers south of the Light of the Stars, and never arriving at the ship. Looking at it, combing the area between the two cities was looking to be an effort not worth it if it''s just to find an old guitar. Still, the package was lost on transit, which meant that it was a certainty that it was attacked. He wouldn¡¯t have to comb the whole hundred kilometer route to find the package on the side of the road as if it just fell off the truck, if it hadn¡¯t been already destroyed, then it would have been taken as loot and stored some place. All he needed was to find whoever attacked the cargo, and he would find his package. Easy. ¡°I know this would likely breach your privacy rules, but can I ask if there are other people that¡¯s had this same problem come to your office lately? It would be better if I wouldn¡¯t have to do this on my own after all. In return, if I happen to come upon more of your lost packages, I¡¯ll be sure to turn it over to you.¡± Marcus said. A conflicted look passed through the man¡¯s face. He then turned around to look at the shelves behind him and sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can sir.¡± He said, tapping away at his terminal and passed a list over. Felix ID: 905254742589 Steel ID: 867809381162 Roadblock ID: 295460918621 Bowie ID: 178362991598 ¡°Appreciate it.¡± Marcus said, thanking the man and left the office. Now, Marcus wondered how well it would turn out with him contacting the players out of the blue, and if they would be willing to give up information or if they even have an inkling of it in the first place. Conversations melded into each other and formed into an ever present hum as Marcus took another swig off his beer as he sat on the table alone. Despite the noise, he liked it as it added to the tone of the bar. It reminded him of the bars he used to frequent with his boys as they spent the night after a long day¡¯s work and bullshitting the night away. ¡°Those were the times.¡± Marcus muttered to himself, taking another swig from the bottle. All the players he contacted through the short list either told him to fuck off or had nothing to help him with, putting him to back to first base. Of course, it wasn¡¯t like he expected much to come out of it and so the rejections and the lack of new information slid off him like water off a duck¡¯s back. The ship¡¯s chat also gleaned him nothing, forcing Marcus to reach out to his last method of getting information. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. A seat opened up by the bar counter and Marcus went for it after taking a swig off his drink. He plopped onto the stool and gave the bartender a look. The bartender gave him a slow nod, and offered, ¡°Name your poison.¡± ¡°Whiskey. Straight. The one you keep in the oak barrels.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t use wooden barrels anymore, boss.¡± ¡°Really? A friend told me you do. Give me what you have then, on the rocks.¡± Unlike the last time where the bartender had to go to the back before giving him the phone, he reached under the bar and simply laid it on top, along with his drink. The satellite phone rang as Marcus waited for the other side to pick up. Marcus downed the glass of whiskey in a single swig, almost coughing as he felt the liquid burn its way down his throat and settling in his stomach with a warm glow. Click. ¡°How may I help you?¡± An electronically filtered voice answered on the other side. ¡°I need to know who might be responsible for attacking the delivery truck, UC249, that was travelling between Evinsburg and The Light of the Stars.¡± Marcus said. ¡°We¡¯ll have it for you shortly.¡± The voice said, followed by the bartender laying a reader on the bar with a bill of 30,000c. Expensive for just a few bits of information, but unavoidable. Marcus said goodbye to a pack of real Martian beer as he scanned his own card and confirmed the transfer. Marcus then ordered another drink as he waited and a thick envelope arrived with a second glass of whiskey. Marcus picked up the envelope, noticing the heft. He then finished the whiskey once more under one swig and went to the safest place Marcus knew inside the ship; inside Stoner¡¯s armory. Taking an empty table at the back of Stoner¡¯s shop, Marcus laid everything inside the envelope onto the table. It contained loads of information pertaining to known bandit locations. He had overhead satellite images, even mugshots of the leaders taken before the war and their jobs prior, but supporting documents coming from their local government confirmed their destruction, save for one. It was a cluster of strip malls and commercial buildings by the edge of the city, and was unfortunately near the suburbs, where the SRT was setting up as their base. It would only be a matter of time before the SRT finishes setting up and proceed to start clearing the surrounding area. The scav group would likely be the first location for them to hit and risk losing Marcus¡¯ package to them. If that happens, it would be like pulling teeth to get his quest finished. Marcus leaned back in his chair and looked over the aerial photo of the camp. There were at least 20 people visible walking on the grounds with more expected inside. It would be a safe estimate for the whole camp to contain double that. Marcus sighed. This quest seemed to be coming out as much more trouble than it''s worth. Tossing the photo into the pile, the operation would have to be conducted silently. Ylenka and the Honest Scribes will probably be able to get it done, but it would be awkward for Marcus to start asking them for help right after putting off her offer of creating a clan. Ylenka would likely help him, but Marcus would rather not have that over his head. The next option would have to be taking his dozen goblin squad for a spin. Surely they could use some field experience, but getting into a fight with another group with superior numbers within a known enemy¡¯s backyard could prove to be a little too much. Going there alone, trying to get in and out with his quest item like a stealth mission, would only end up with him getting caught and killed. Marcus sighed, picking up the map again. Two days. He¡¯ll have to do it within two days. Might as well give them a test run before the big game. Marcus rocked the magazine into the well and pulled at the charging handle. Tipping the rifle slightly to the side in order to check the chamber and make sure the rounds fed well. He released the bolt forward and Marcus saw the blue tips of the 9x39mm SPP rounds seated in the magazine slide forward smoothly. Designed to take out targets within 200 meters silently for special force¡¯s purposes, it was perfect for this rushed operation. The night was dark, the planet¡¯s twin moons covered by a thick overcast sky. Marcus moved through the dark streets using a pair of NVGs he looted off Crusty¡¯s group. His goblin squad followed close, unbothered by the darkness that would cause any human to trip and fall. Marcus had the squad tie up and secure their equipment tight before moving out in the operation, even inspecting them all personally and having them do jumping jacks to make sure that nothing jingled in their gear and had all reflective surfaces blacked. Through the green filters of his NVG, the dark mall complex loomed ahead. They have covered their windows with blinds, but firelight still crept through the cracks and they glowed like stars under Marcus¡¯ aided vision. Guards were posted, but their demeanor openly showed that they are more concerned with keeping warm against the cold rather than being concerned about a coming attack. A light flickered a hundred meters up ahead, illuminating the face of the hostile scavenger as he lit up his cigarette. He wasn¡¯t alone. Another scav stood close by, and he passed over the lighter for the other scav to light up his smoke. Moving closer, Marcus could hear the two converse in low voices. Marcus then raised his rifle and activated his PEQ-15 IR laser/designator and canted his rifle for the beam to hover above his bore. Zeroed at a hundred meters, all Marcus had to do was center the laser dot on his target and fire a couple of rounds. Marcus watched as his first target dropped. He then shifted his aim to the other scav who was just processing what happened, and squeezed another set of rounds. The second Scav dropped. None of the other sentries were alerted, and Marcus continued closing to the building. Studying the data package he received from the shadow broker, he found that it even contained floor plans of the building, open spaces that is likely repurposed to be a barracks, an internal room with concrete walls that would perfectly serve as an armory and a wide space near the back where loot would be kept. It would also be the most guarded part of the Scav base. But that was the reason Marcus decided to move at the dead of night, a time when the scavengers would likely spend their time sleeping. Moving past the sentries¡¯ bodies, and like the gods had somehow given their support, rain started pouring. The drops started out as isolated trickle, which soon developed into a cold, pelting torture to whoever is left standing out in the open. Marcus couldn¡¯t have asked for more. The rain provided white noise, which covered their footsteps while also keeping the sentries distracted as they bothered more to keep warm than looking out. Marcus came upon a pair roving the grounds, both men hustled forward to complete their patrol and get back into cover. The two didn¡¯t notice Marcus and his group and he signalled everyone to hold their fire as they shadowed the two, who were more concerned about getting out of the rain. Marcus spent hours burning the building¡¯s floor plan into his brain and knew that they were steadily moving towards the barracks area. Instead of coming in from the front, they circled to the back of the mall, then headed for a metal door. Now knowing the safe way inside, Marcus raised his rifle to take them out. Marcus aimed his laser at the trailing man and sent a couple of rounds. The armor-piercing rounds found the base of his skull and he dropped to the ground, limp. The noise made by his comrade after hitting the ground caused the leading scav to pause and turn around, which gave Marcus a clean shot where he landed a couple of shots center-mass. Reaching the door they were going for, Marcus had the goblins stack up. He changed mags and changed his PEQ-15¡¯s settings to a simple light and looked at the goblins. Gabs and Fleex, now promoted to lead their own team of five each, both nodded. They were as ready as they could be. Marcus had trained them as best as he could with the time and resources he had available, and they could see this operation as their graduation exam. Marcus pulled his NVG up and opened the door to breach. He was the first in the stack, sweeping his aim to lines of bunks which were mostly occupied by sleeping scavs. One was sitting by a fire, tending to it to keep everyone warm. He looked up at their entrance as he tossed a log into the burning barrel. His eyes widened at their arrival as he realized that they were not the two scavs supposed to come back from their patrol. Marcus squeezed the trigger twice. The scav jerked at the impact of the heavy, subsonic rounds and crumpled to the floor. The report was nothing more than a loud sneeze, but was still enough to stir the scav sleeping closest to Marcus awake. He turned to look and with groggy eyes, tried to open them up to full to check, only to receive a bullet to the face as the rest of the goblins filled into the room. ¡°Go loud. Go loud.¡± Marcus ordered as more figures started stirring about. A dozen rifles opened up at his order and rounds ripped at the sleeping figures. Chaos ensued. Roused by the loud reports of a dozen unsuppressed rifles, everyone responded by jumping off their bunks as soon as they realized what was happening, but their efforts turned out to be in vain. Only a couple of scavs managed to reach for their weapons and tried to fight back, only to be torn by a volley of fire. ¡°Fleex. Take out the sentries outside, make sure they don¡¯t come up behind us.¡± Marcus ordered and Fleex obeyed, taking his squad outside and leaving Gabs with him. Marcus looked at the other squad and signalled for them to follow him. Ahead was the base¡¯s armory. There would surely be some juicy loot stored there, but it wasn¡¯t the reason they came here in the first place. Arriving at the armory, Marcus only made a cursory check and saw that it was locked from the outside with a metal door secured with a welded latch and a heavy padlock. Marcus led the way forward, going for the storage room. Voice sounded ahead, panicked, and harried. A loud voice was trying to rally whoever was still alive from the barracks to mount a defense, only to come upon a fully armed group waiting for him. With a pair of shots, Marcus took him out and forced the others following him to double back into safety. ¡°You two, hold this hallway. Shields forward.¡± Marcus ordered, and the two he pointed at obeyed the order. The worst shot in the squad moved forward, positioning himself to one side of the hallway, giving cover to the two behind as he took a knee. With that, his comrades would shoot over his head while he keeps the shield deployed. Marcus didn¡¯t envy the goblin, simply wishing him luck as he opened the door and breached the storeroom. The room was dark. Marcus activated his light and panned between the shelves to make sure that there was nobody hiding inside and found it clear. Ordering the rest of Gabs¡¯ squad to go back to the hallway to make sure that they keep it, Marcus opened his screen.
Quest:
Your Father¡¯s guitar. Leaving your previous job as a bar musician in a small town, you took everything you had and sold the rest except for your father¡¯s beaten guitar he had passed down to you. Too bulky for luggage, you had it sent separately in a fast hauler to arrive before your arrival. Quest type: Personal Quest Requirements: Track your package and retrieve it. (5m)
Like a game of hot and cold, Marcus used the quest screen to pinpoint his package against the stacks and stacks of ill-gotten loot. Standing above the package, it was kept in a pelican case with the delivery seal broken. He opened the case to find an old, beaten and well worn guitar. Jackpot. Marcus closed the case and secured the lid. The case was designed with the ability to be dragged and so Marcus simply shoved it to the door, already wishing that he should have chosen a harmonica instead. The goblins have taken the hallway. Two more bodies lay in the hall. The goblins had dominated the sector and even moved up. Looking around, Marcus also found that Gabs took the initiative and left a goblin to cover their rear. Fleex still hasn¡¯t come back yet and with the sounds of gunfire outside, they were busy. ¡°Fleex. Report.¡± Marcus called through the radio. He had given the squad leaders a radio each, knowing well how vital communications were in a fight. A best, heavily armed team would be useless if they wouldn¡¯t be able to get to the battle, and by that same logic a barely armed group could make all the difference in a fight if they happen to be in the right place at the right time. ¡°Holding. We fighting five. We okay.¡± Fleex replied via the radio. Sounds of fighting came through the receiver, but Marcus didn¡¯t hear the tell tale snap of a round flying close. They were fine. ¡°I found something.¡± Gabs said, passing a keyring filled with jangling keys. Marcus angled the keys to catch the light when a thought came to him. ¡°Might as well,¡± Marcus said, throwing the keys back to Gabs. ¡°Open the armory and see what they got in there.¡± He said. He knew he was getting greedy. Marcus already had the quest item with him and getting out should be the priority. Still, by getting out with only the guitar, he will be falling into the red in this operation. He would have to reward his goblins after this, and if he didn¡¯t come up with anything more than just his guitar, then he would have to pay them out of pocket. Gabs ran off to open the armory before Marcus even had a chance to change his mind. Looking at the trio holding the hallway and confirming that they had it locked down, Marcus went back to the storage and started taking packages off the shelves, remembering his promise with the post office guy. Marcus took a thick plastic bag off his pack and started taking the opened packages. Looking at some, they all looked to be useless trinkets, and Marcus prioritized the smaller ones in order to get as much as he could with the least bulk. He would be helping more players this way too, which is nice. The gunfire outside petered off as Marcus finished packing the stolen cargo. For a second, Marcus wondered why the scavengers kept the packages still intact and not just threw them away, but he simply tossed it off to some game design. Getting out, Marcus met Gabs, who had also finished packing the weapons. A large and heavy looking canvas bag lay at his feet with all members of his squad sporting a second rifle slung on their shoulders. He nodded. If the guns turn out to be not worth the effort selling, he could just let them keep it. Leading everyone outside, the pouring rain had developed into a downpour. There was poor visibility all around, which was another boon for Marcus. Radioing Fleex, he confirmed that they had secured their lines of retreat and all they needed now was to walk out of the location, and on his command, they did just that. Under the downpour, Marcus looked back with his NVG and saw the place on fire. Pops sounded from the building as loose rounds cooked off in the blaze. If the SRT manages to stumble upon this place, then they could just take whatever was left for themselves. This place is nothing to him now. Ch 48: Finally, comrades. Yesterday, after the operation, Marcus had everyone beeline for Songbird station knowing that he couldn¡¯t take his goblins inside the ship. He couldn¡¯t risk having his men be mistaken for random mobs and taken out by either players or the ship¡¯s defenses. Marcus then tossed them bonus pay for the successful operation and told them to take the rest of the day off, as they could use some downtime for the next day. He then logged off and readied himself for his meeting with Ylena, his shrink. As per Martian law, he is still considered as a ward of the state, unable to find jobs, not like he could with his current set of skills, and is given just enough money to keep himself alive. As per regulation, he was required to undergo periodic mental checkups to make sure that the thawing and his neurological treatment hadn¡¯t brought any adverse effects and would be then released after passing a psychological evaluation. Marcus wanted nothing more than to get out of being considered a ward. Even knowing that it wouldn¡¯t count for anything, it still hurt his pride. He was raised to shy away from receiving charity and making sure that anything he had would have to come from honest work, like a real, hardworking American would. After cleaning and dressing himself with a fresh pair of khakis and a pressed collared shirt, Marcus set out towards Ylena¡¯s office for their session. He had to be honest with himself; he did look forward to talking with the woman again. What can he say? She was smart, pretty, and successful. He would be hard pressed to try to find a man that wouldn¡¯t be attracted, or at least be impressed by such a woman. Riding through the transit station and arriving at the Hab where Ylena¡¯s office was located, Marcus waited at the waiting area for his session. He was a quarter hour early, which was far better than being a second late. It also gave him some time to burn and so he pulled out his phone to pass the time.. Browsing through the selection of videos on the net, one caught his attention. Interview with the Burned Asylum creative director, Mikhailov Yakovich, says: The game is not about killing people, and that big things are coming. The preview showed a Caucasian man wearing a pair of ¡®smart glasses¡¯, sitting in a chair with his interviewer turned to him. Intrigued, Marcus let it play. ¡°Some people say that our game is all about killing people. It¡¯s not. That is one part, but not all of it. Until now, we have been pacing our updates to make sure that all our players enjoy the best the game has to offer. Right now, even two months after the initial release, you can say that the game is just at the early stages. We are giving the players enough time to get the hang of things before moving things forward. Now, we would like to say that big things are coming, and depending on your actions, would bring good change, or chaos. Soon, you¡¯ll either stumble upon it, or it will come to you. Look forward to it.¡± With that, the interview went on to less interesting topics like the hardship of releasing a controversial game in such a political climate, its impact on the current generation and the future, along with the dangers it poses to society. Mikhailov deftly replied to all of them, with his responses pretty much boiling down to comparing it to learning sword fighting during the 21st century. Sure, you can be a danger to others, but the government had the period¡¯s equivalent of a gun. It was no contest. Closing the video, it was all bullshit to Marcus, all the concerns reminded him of the gamer controversies that were rife when he was a kid with ignorant people claiming that games were the reason kids were getting violent while ignoring that raising a kid and making sure he doesn¡¯t turn up to be a mass murderer is the parent¡¯s responsibility. Reading up on the current capabilities of the police and military, knowing how to prep a block of C4 would be like knowing how to craft black powder from scratch during his time. They already had ways to scan for explosives back then, and it¡¯s a certainty that the police and military now have much better capabilities in preventing attacks and tragedies from happening. Marcus then surfed through more videos and tried listening to current music. He didn¡¯t like the chaotic, high-pitched beats which only hurt his ears, added with the nonsensical lyrics, which sounded catchy but made no sense. Closing the videos, he simply searched the songs he knew and listened to spend the time away. ¡°So anyway, they wanted to start up a guild with me being pushed as the leader. Looking at it from the outside perspective, you know that it¡¯s a no brainer right? But for me, I don¡¯t feel like I should.¡± Marcus said, putting out his cigarette on his portable ashtray and securing it close. He looked at Ylena, who simply sat at her side of the coffee table and was busy scribbling at her pad. ¡°So how do you feel about that?¡± Ylena said, asking the usual questions. Marcus only sighed, raising his hands in surrender. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Empty? Confused? I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m supposed to be feeling. I don¡¯t even know why I asked for more time in the first place. Look, I don¡¯t know how you run your psychological evaluations, but I need some help here to find out what¡¯s wrong.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not in the liberty to disclose any of my own findings as it would affect your evaluation.¡± She replied flatly. ¡°So I guess I¡¯m shit out of luck then, huh? Your job is to only find out if I¡¯m fucked in the head and wouldn¡¯t even help to unfuck it up.¡± Marcus replied. Ylena looked at him with a blank face and closed his tablet. ¡°I think we should end this session here as you are currently in a state of distress.¡± She said, turning off the recording. ¡°We¡¯ll fuck you then.¡± Marcus said, standing to leave. He was pissed. He came to her looking for advice, only to be turned away. Reaching for the doorknob, Ylena called. ¡°Marcus.¡± ¡°What?¡± Marcus snapped, turning towards Ylena, who was sitting calmly and was looking at him with a sympathetic look. ¡°It is in my opinion that you are subconsciously shying away from personal relationships, as the wound of losing everyone you loved is still fresh. You might not actively think about your loss, and I¡¯m sorry, but you are. And you don¡¯t want to take the risk of having that same pain inflicted on you again.¡± ¡°So what do I do then?¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I may not share the same connotations of the adage, but the first thing you should do when you fall off your horse is?¡± ¡°Get back into it.¡± Marcus finished for her. He watched her as she gave him a calm smile of encouragement. She made sure to turn off the session¡¯s recording required by the state before giving him advice, off the record. ¡°Thank you. It means a lot. And sorry for what I said.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Ylena answered. Marcus nodded and left. Back in the game, the goblins were still enjoying their day off. Marcus found them in the station¡¯s version of a bar busily celebrating their success with rowdy drinking paired with loud, joyous singing. Marcus had to give them the opportunity to celebrate on their own and wouldn¡¯t be fair for their commander to stick around. Still, the festive atmosphere was shared with the rest of the station, albeit in a tamer capacity. Unlike the tense and fearful atmosphere following the attack on the main entrance, the goblins walked with confidence in their step, assured by the defenses put up by their combined efforts. The chief had made sure to let his people know of Marcus and everyone else¡¯s contributions, and the population made sure to extend their appreciation. It wasn¡¯t much, mainly restricted to food gifts, which Marcus used to feed his men, and personal thanks said in a language Marcus couldn¡¯t understand. He could only smile back and accept, making sure to address that he appreciates their recognition. With the promised operation with Columbus slated for the next day, Marcus went back to Bo¡¯s shop where he was back fixing broken station equipment. Bo¡¯s goblin assistants have grown one more pair of hands and totalled to three goblins. The three were crawling around his shop, making sure that everything was spotless and every tool cleaned. With nothing to talk about, both greeted each other with a curt nod and went back to their business. Marcus headed for his corner in the shop and opened the pelican case alongside the pile of opened packages. The metal locker they used to store their weapons was filled with the weapons they have looted off the scavengers. It was nothing impressive. Well worn and barely maintained weapons filled the locker, which Marcus doubted would fetch a good price outside the station. It would do well as rewards for the goblins, and likely would be sought after in the local market, so Marcus decided to let them sit in storage for a while until he could decide what to do with them. Picking up the case, Marcus ran his hand on the guitar. Feeling the string and the frets under his fingers, he tuned the strings as best he could and started playing chords, and his idle playing developed into him strumming songs he learned to impress girls back in his highschool days. He never considered himself good, only decent. And like riding a bicycle, his fingers found the notes the longer he started playing. By slapping his wrist on the spruce top, it made for a good beat. Marcus then started plucking at the strings, playing the song ¡®The farewell¡¯ from a game he knew from long ago. Back then, everything was good, simple. Marcus had a plan, a bright future he had set for himself.
Quest completed!
Your Father¡¯s guitar. Leaving your previous job as a bar musician in a small town, you took everything you had and sold the rest except for your father¡¯s beaten guitar he had passed down to you. Too bulky for luggage, you had it sent separately in a fast hauler to arrive before your arrival. Quest type: Personal Quest Requirements: Track your package and retrieve it. Rewards: +1 Dexterity Trait gained: Nimble fingers: Less likely to fumble.
Marcus paused, noticing the stares sent at him. He looked up to see Bo standing nearby, along with Rex and Anna. Ylenka stood on the side with the rest of her squad, smiling. ¡°That was great! Do it again!¡± Anna squeed. ¡°Can I get a tip at least?¡± ¡°If you play well.¡± Anna said suggestively. ¡°Maybe not then.¡± Marcus grinned, putting the guitar away. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Anna whined, ¡°Play one more song!¡± ¡°Maybe later.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°I still have to get to the ship to get the clan started.¡± ¡°Wait. Can you say that again?¡± She asked. ¡°I said I¡¯m going to start the clan.¡± ¡°Really!¡± Anna said, jumping excitedly. ¡°What are we going to be called?¡± ¡°I was thinking about The Last Man Contingent.¡± Marcus replied, vindicated by the approving nods from everyone. ¡°Any objections?¡± ¡°None.¡± Ylenka replied, ¡°Maybe we should celebrate the formation with a song.¡± ¡°Yeah. Better do it quick so I can turn the air back on.¡± Bo added. Marcus noticed the silence. To turn off the ventilation just so they could hear him play, Marcus didn¡¯t know what to feel about that. ¡°Fine,¡± He sighed, reaching for the guitar again. Thinking of a song, Marcus tapped his fingers on the guitar. He thought of party songs he used back then, but it would be extremely unlikely for them to know the lyrics and sing along. He needed a song with a catchy tune, simple lyrics, and a lively chorus for everyone to join in. Grinning, Marcus decided on one. Marcus started strumming, playing a lively tune which was easy to join up with a clap or a beat. Running the simple chords once, Marcus had the gist of the rhythm and sang. They¡¯ll look high and they¡¯ll look low They¡¯ll go everywhere we go But when the sinners find us, we won¡¯t hide They¡¯ll come loud and they¡¯ll come fast We shoot first and we can last Keep your rifle by your side Everyone was clapping along now. Marcus couldn¡¯t help but get carried away by the mood as he reached the chorus. Singin¡¯, ¡°Oh Lord, this earth was made for us¡± Singin¡¯, ¡°Oh Lord, this sinful life just ain¡¯t enough¡± So we¡¯ll take a stand ¡®Cause we must protect our land Keep your rifle by your side ¡­ Once everyone started to get the gist of the lyrics, everyone started to sing along. Marcus almost had to yell over the rest to steer the song to the right lyrics. A while later, it ended and everyone cheered. Marcus smiled, already feeling better at making his decision to establish the clan. Ylena was right. Marcus could say that all the people gathered in this small room were now his friends. They have gone through challenges together and overcome them, they had that connection. ¡°You know. It would be better if we could sing along with the lyrics.¡± Anna said. ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± Ylenka added, ¡°So how about we go again and do it right this time.¡± ¡°Alright. One more time.¡± Marcus said, pulling up his screen and typed up the lyrics. He sent everyone a copy. Funny how the song described their situation. Soon after everyone read up, Marcus started the tune again and all sang along. The only thing missing was a fire in the middle of the forest, some meat cooking over the fire, and a dark starry night above and it would be just like home. CH 49: Getting established After the guitar session, Marcus led the way towards the ship with everyone save for Bo in tow. They decided to show their unity by joining Marcus as he went to register the clan on the ship. His pack was filled with the packages taken from the scavs, intending to come true with his promise with the post office man in exchange for his help. Even though it turned out to amount to anything, Marcus still needed to keep his promise for the information he was given. Back on the ship, through the relatively safe tunnels, Marcus felt a sense of confidence as he walked ahead of the group. People ahead of them would unconsciously stay off to the side. ¡°Player Ylenka, being the leader of the Honest scribes that was instrumental in the fight between TAS and SRT, what are your future plans?¡± A player asked. Almost materializing out of thin air, he held a microphone to her face and started asking questions. The group paused. Ylenka was surprised by the questions and looked over to Marcus. He only winked and continued towards the registration, content with letting Ylenka take the fall. ¡®You owe me.¡¯ Ylenka mouthed, which Marcus acted as if he didn¡¯t see. Still, the presence of a known player started gathering a crowd, and Marcus managed to shoulder his way out of the crush of bodies and retreated away with Anna and Rex. ¡°Are you sure we should just be leaving them there?¡± Rex asked. ¡°I want to be interviewed,¡± Anna pouted. ¡°You can go back and join them.¡± Marcus offered. ¡°Besides, I still needed to turn in these packages for the post office. What was that anyway?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± Anna asked, ¡°We¡¯re kinda famous! A player named Soapbox managed to piece together the events and was able to post enough of a coherent narrative from interviews and aftermath pictures and posted it to his channel on the largest video streaming platform, earning himself a decent amount of views. Here I¡¯ll send you the link. The new update allows net access from in the game now.¡± She said excitedly. Marcus received the link from Anna and followed it. Through the game window, a video opened. A man was talking to the camera. The same one in the hallway. ¡°Hello everyone, this is Soapbox talking to you again. Today, I have something interesting to show you this week from our local cluster inside the region; Light of the Stars. Also known as the ship region, where the result of two top clans vying for supremacy has ended with a stalemate. Wah wah whah. Not exciting stuff, you say? Just wait till I tell you more.¡± The video cut to logos of the clans; a skull wearing a mining hat with a sledgehammer on his shoulder on one side of the screen and a silhouette of a gopnik with a bottle in front of him on the other side. ¡°The two clans in our week¡¯s episode: an offensive clan, Sable Rock Tunnelers, SRT for short, and a crafting clan, Track, Assault, and Squat, TAS. Now, you wonder how a thirty-man crafting clan half filled with technicians, gunsmiths, and reloaders are able to fend off against forty assaulters, breachers, machine gunners and end up the way it did?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll, they weren¡¯t, at first at least. From what I could glean from inside sources within both clans, the fight started when SRT simply wanted what TAS had. What do the TAS have exactly? Simple, a metal stamping facility converted to an ammunition factory. Now, any clan would chomp at the bit of taking such a location for their own, so it was only a matter of time when the raiding clan, SRT, set their sights on our wee little crafting clan, simply content on making ammo.¡± All the while, the voice talked over footage of the SRT¡¯s armored vehicles laying down fire into a building. Other players were in cover, cheering and waving at the camera only to keep their head down as retaliatory fire raked their position. ¡°The fight went on as expected. Being the more experienced of the two, the SRT dominated the fights outside their base. The TAS, however, being able to fight on their home ground, were able to put their efforts entirely into defense, forcing the SRT to lay out a siege for the TAS and root them out.¡± ¡°You already know what the end result was, stalemate. But the devil is in the details and that¡¯s where things get interesting!¡± The video cuts to an overhead map of the area showing the areas both clans controlled. SRT controlled all the area around the TAS base who were only able to keep the area around their base. ¡°The TAS is in the defense. The SRT had set up multiple positions to harass the guild and chip away at their resources for this battle of attrition. You would expect for the crafting clan to start calling out for help from other clans but no one was coming, that is until our wildcard came in.¡± ¡°A locally established group, calling themselves the Honest Scribes, started hitting SRT hard points. On their first fight, they were able to take out several known SRT positions along with their best player; A sniper named Demented. Now this guy is no slouch. Able to hit a man-sized target at ranges past five hundred meters, this is not the person you want to be looking out a window towards you.¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re going to ask, ¡®is this Demented guy demented like his namesake? Was he running alone and this group only managed to take him out from behind?¡¯ No. Being the clan¡¯s top player and a sniper, he had his own security detail guarding him who was also taken out alongside him.¡± The feed cuts to footage from during the attack. From the angle facing the building, Marcus suspected that the footage came from Razer. It showed a machine gunner posted behind a M240B machine gun in a sandbag pit getting taken down with two shots. The first shot took out his shields, while the other took out his head. It then zoomed out, just as the area around the machine gunner was peppered with a fusillade of bullets. The video then cut to the Scion¡¯s point of view, showing Marcus, his face blurred out, kneeling over Demented¡¯s grave and looting a gun. ¡°The clan¡¯s quick reaction force was dispatched immediately, seven minutes away. And the group took him out with enough time to loot and scoot. Only slowed down by a detached SRT squad coming to respond to the attack.¡± The video was showing exclusively Marcus¡¯ video now. It started with them leaving the building, getting shot, moving cover to cover. Getting caught in the alley, Razer drawing fire, Marcus taking out the player lying prone on the ground until they managed to get away. All the while, Soapbox¡¯s voice narrated over the video. ¡°They were surrounded. With a hammer and an anvil, you all should know how this would turn out, but I would say that most of you will be wrong. Somehow, during a fighting escape, the group managed to get out of the encirclement at the cost of a single TAS clan member. Now if that was me who managed to do that, I¡¯ll be showing my bare ass to them the next time we meet in a neutral area.¡± Marcus turned off the video. He already knew what happened since he was there. Any more would only succeed in stroking his ego. ¡°He got one thing wrong.¡± ¡°I know!¡± Anna said, ¡°we should tell him!¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s fine.¡± Marcus said, waving the issue away. ¡°It¡¯s better this way. I don¡¯t want that baggage.¡± With that, Marcus ended the subject and entered the post office. The same haggard man was there and did his best to stand to attention. ¡°Hello, sir. How may I help you today?¡± ¡°Actually, I¡¯ll be the one helping you.¡± Marcus said, laying the bag on the counter. ¡°Just like I promised, I got some out with me. Sorry for the damage. I found them already opened.¡± ¡°You mean?¡± The man muttered, opening the bag and looking at the packages. He then smiled. ¡°You actually got them? Are there more?¡± ¡°The place was already burning down when I found them. These are the only ones I managed to save. Sorry.¡± Marcus lied. ¡°Its fine sir.¡± The man smiled. ¡°I have no idea the effort you went through to get these packages back, but I¡¯m sure it took a lot. In behalf of Terminus postal service, I give you my thanks.¡±
Attention!
50,000 received from UNCS Light of the Stars Post Office
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Thanks. You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡± ¡°Please sir. I insist. I wish there would be more people like you in the world.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Marcus replied, nodding. ¡°You have a good day.¡± ¡°You too, sir.¡± Marcus turned and went to leave the office. Anna and Rex were there and managed to watch the whole exchange. ¡°Hero of the people.¡± Anna quipped. ¡°I got paid, so more like a mercenary.¡± Anna chuckled. ¡°If you say so.¡± Ylenka and the rest managed to get away from the reporter and managed to meet up. With everyone present, Marcus led the way to the command, turned administrative sector of the ship. Unlike in the science fiction stories from back then, the bridge was not built into the bow of the ship, but in the core where it is the most secure from any asteroid strikes and with the central location allowing for faster response during emergencies. Unlike the other parts of the ship, there were noticeably fewer players roaming around the halls. Following the signs, Marcus walked past a heavy metal door and entered the administration office with everyone in tow. A receptionist looked up and smiled. She wore a crisp blue jumpsuit, a crewman¡¯s uniform, pressed and folded with perfect creases and bore a gleaming pip. ¡°Hi! How may I help you?¡± ¡°We would like to set up a clan.¡± Marcus said, ¡°And we would like for the light of the stars to recognize our formation.¡± The receptionist looked at all of them, passing searching gazes at each one. ¡°That is no problem, sir. Given that your clan name would be available in the database and after a small fee, you can have your clan established in short order.¡± ¡°The name is Last Man Contingent,¡± Marcus said, and the receptionist typed it up. She then looked up, beaming. ¡°Congratulations, the name is available in the database.¡± The next steps were simple after the confirmation. All Marcus had to do was pay for the fee and have an officer come down and recognize their organization in the form of a small ceremony and a certificate. With that, the clan Last Man Contingent was established.
Attention!
Collective member fame tallied. Congratulations! Clan levelled up
Clan Information
Last man contingent Clan level: 2 Clan Fame: 1052* *Clan fame is the collective fame of every member of the clan. Acknowledgments: Light of the stars (Independent) Allies: None Members: 9 Base location: None Territory: 0/0 Vehicles: 0/1 Hired Personnel: 0/5
Given that Marcus had a dozen goblins under his employ, it seemed like it wasn¡¯t counted towards the hired personnel. One more point for running his own mercenary company. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look much.¡± Marcus muttered after looking at the guild level. ¡°Would I be right to assume that we would have gotten it levelled higher up if we had this established before the fight?¡± ¡°It should.¡± Anna replied, then grinned. ¡°Are you planning on levelling it up?¡± ¡°We won¡¯t look for fights, but if it comes to us, we¡¯ll make sure we¡¯ll be the one finishing it.¡± Marcus replied. Then, realizing how cheesy it was, looked over to the rest to find them grinning. Anna chuckled. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Besides, it¡¯s not like we could at the moment.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°Better if we stay low for now and just build our positions stronger.¡± ¡°What¡¯s our next move?¡± Ylenka asked. ¡°Right now? Imma go get a barbecue. You guys wanna come with?¡± Marcus replied, leading out the door and through the hall, only to be ambushed by Soapbox as they neared the lift to the higher levels. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m Soapbox. I¡¯m kind of the reporter around here and am looking to get to know the rising rookies. Can I ask some of your time for some questions?¡± ¡°Nope. Busy right now.¡± Marcus replied, passing him by. ¡°How about a short statement? You¡¯ve placed third and second on both pistol and rifle courses at level one, beating other players that ran the course at higher levels. Do you think that skill beats level every time in the game?¡± ¡°I just got lucky. And luck beats anything.¡± Marcus replied. Soapbox was about to ask for another, only to be distracted as a flood of players passed them by as they neared the lift. Everyone in the newly formed Last Man Contingent filled into the elevator, leaving no room for Soapbox. Marcus could only grin and wave as the elevator door closed and take them up to the level above. There, they got to the store and found that improvement had been in place. What had been a simple stall on the side of the market turned to a real restaurant with two floors and more employees. With the increase in profits, Malinka was able to call in her children to work in the newly built restaurant, thus giving it more capacity. This lies the problem with Marcus. His supply stayed mostly the same. This forced Malinka to increase the price of their products once more, even doubling it. The price increase drove away some customers, but to the richer player base it was still relatively cheap and very worth it, thereby keeping the demand high. Players lined up to a sort of drive through area for a quick grab and go, opening the queue for others looking to enjoy their meals would enter the restaurant and eat their meals at the table. Taking their seat on the second floor, it gave a good view of the street below. Marcus looked down at the players and NPC milling about, like watching a river flow. The crowd below followed its own natural current, making it very interesting to watch. ¡°I like this place. Cozy. I never noticed this place the last time I came through here.¡± Anna said as she looked around the interior. Unlike the outside wall made of metal, the interior was well lit, the walls were covered with a brick facade with beautiful paintings. The floor was made of some gray laminate, populated with cushioned chairs and wood tables. ¡°It¡¯s because it used to be just a stall on the side of the path.¡± Ylenka replied, ¡°You can say that Hartdegen had a large hand in improving this place with his business ventures.¡± ¡°I barely did any work.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°I deliver the goods, and Malinka does everything else while I get a cut. It¡¯s good seeing she¡¯s moving up.¡± ¡°Ah, here he is. My favorite customer.¡± Malinka said, as she came up the stairs holding a covered tray she laid on their table. With a flourish, she opened up the cover, revealing a large side of ribs dripping with juices. ¡°On the house,¡± she proclaimed. ¡°Thanks!¡± Marcus smiled. Malinka smiled back, then turned to leave. ¡°Wow! You think I¡¯d get the same house treatment if I come back here?¡± Anna said, watching Malinka descend to the first floor. ¡°I hope not.¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°Then I guess I should just keep you around then.¡± Anna replied. ¡°Let¡¯s just dig in. get your buffs, level up. Make your clan leader proud.¡±
Attention!
Prime Barbecue ribs Prime ribs soaked overnight over a special blend of marinate and cooked under carefully controlled fire. From the meat quality, the ingredient¡¯s potency has been strengthened and extended. -30% Stamina consumption rate (600 min) +15% health regeneration rate (420 min)
¡°Okay. Here¡¯s the thing.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°Ylenka had been privy to my setup with Malinka, the owner here. It¡¯s likely some of you might have some of your suspicions too. The reason I was looking for help fighting the SRT was all because of this.¡± Marcus said, waving at the restaurant. ¡°Right now, the supply I have access to is barely able to supply this restaurant. My cut is decent, 400,000c per week, enough for one person but paltry to a clan. As of right now, we¡¯re in the best position to scale it up, maybe sell them directly to the clans for a bigger price, or other cities.¡± ¡°So here it is. My first order as the clan leader would be for you guys to scout out a location for us to take as our territory. These are my requirements.- ¡° CH 50: Sweet new rifle After the orders were given, everyone left to carry out their orders. One more person sent to the task would barely add any chance of success, thereby leaving Marcus time for himself. Marcus leaned back in his seat, sipping tea as he thought about the big picture. Further plans about their base would have to wait until they could find an appropriate location. Their economic situation depends entirely on each player¡¯s contribution. If they manage to set up their own farms, their clan coffers will be funded by their profits by selling the mushrooms to the market. Marcus was still making credits hand over fist with almost a thousand percent markup from what he could source from Chief Tiul, but with Marcus being the sole source of the mushrooms, as far as he knew, it left him in a comfortable spot. As for their combat capabilities; their setup works for the moment with players using NATO calibers while Marcus¡¯ goblins settle into the Soviet counterparts. It allows caliber variety, which made sure that any ammunition looted would have a rifle being able to shoot it but cut down on commonality, barring players from sharing ammo with the goblins. Of course, that could be easily solved by simply not allowing the goblins to run with the players, but that would effectively cut their available combat units in half. Marcus sighed as he took another sip of his drink. It would have to be a problem he would have to keep in the back of his mind since he couldn¡¯t for the life of him find a solution except making either of the group change calibers and rifles. Still on the topic of caliber commonality, Marcus needed to get himself a rifle chambered in 7.62x39. Of course, he could just take one of the half dozen extra AKMs he had in storage, but he just didn¡¯t want to. Opening the player-run black market, Marcus looked over the listings looking for the more modern designs chambered in 7.62x39 with the added caveat that it could accept AK pattern magazines. As one of the most common calibers in the game, there was a selection of guns sold by other players but mostly AKs and their derivatives. With more money to burn now, Marcus thought that he should be able to treat himself with a nice weapon. Funny how he used to do the same IRL back then.
Anon 4006: Selling CMMG Mutant. Give me your offer. I know what this is worth. Don¡¯t even try. Anon 8861: Hey 4006. I¡¯m interested. Let¡¯s talk. Here.
Marcus sent the anonymous guy a link to a private chatroom then talked business. The CMMG Mutant, being an uncommon rifle in the ship, was more expensive than the common variety solely for its novelty. An AR shooting AK bullets. All the benefits of a gas impingement system in the heavier caliber of the AK. What¡¯s there not to love? you get the best of both sides of the cold war. The gun was a true mutant indeed. In the market, uncommon rifles went around 10,000c. A bit expensive compared to the more common rifles, which went for half of that, but Marcus was willing to drop the money needed, that he was even willing to buy the rifle a little more than the going price. Still, with some haggling through the private text chat, Marcus was able to secure a meetup after agreeing at a 15,000c price, equivalent to three AKMs sold in the market. The exchange was quick. Just like how he went about buying guns off people from Craigslist, Marcus took the rifle and checked it in his hands. It was the 16-inch barrel version, a little too long for his taste and the environment he would be using it. The player claimed that it hadn¡¯t been used and so he checked the contact points and saw little scratches from parts rubbing against each other; he checked the barrel; it was clean of carbon. It looked fine. Marcus hasn¡¯t had his weapons jam on him yet, but given the effort the developers put into the game, he expected for a jam to happen sooner or later. With a quick change of credits. Marcus was now the new owner of the weapon. Seeing at how Demented managed to get the drop rate of his weapon cut in half by spending money on it, Marcus planned to do the same. He already had a budget in mind; three times the value of the gun to be exact since attachments and upgrades usually cost more than the weapon when added up. Stepping into the armory, Marcus took his spot at the back of the line, only to be waved forward by Stoner as he told the second in line to wait. As a result, Marcus had to cut the line, passing by a dozen people who were giving him looks. ¡°Sorry.¡± Marcus said to the girl standing second in the line. Then to Stoner, ¡°You know I¡¯m fine standing in line right?¡± ¡°Oh I know.¡± Stoner grinned, ¡°So what do you need?¡± ¡°I need this customized.¡± Marcus said, pulling out the weapon. The sight of the Mutant caused Stoner to raise eyebrows, intrigued. ¡°I want the barrel cut down to 10 or so inches, threaded for a suppressor attachment. The barrel cut to sleeve over the suppressor with cutouts on the side for taking it out, polished trigger, tuned gas port, increased buffer weight, ambidextrous mag release lever, foregip, holo sights, IR laser/illuminator with a flashlight, also, paint it matte black.¡± ¡°You want a handjob for it too?¡± Stoner said, handing him the scanner. Looking at the number, Marcus paused. 35,000c, over double the rifle¡¯s price. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had a wife. Is she hot? If she is, I wouldn¡¯t mind a massage first before the happy ending.¡± Marcus replied, scanning his chit. Another six pack of beer for a virtual gun. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°In your dreams kid.¡± Stoner said, ripping the paper off the pad he was using to list the specs, and taking the rifle. ¡°You can have it tomorrow.¡± ¡°Actually, would it help for me to get it earlier if I help?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°We might be able to finish later tonight.¡± Stoner shrugged, ¡°You know what? We could just start after I finish with these.¡± Stoner said. He then stepped out of the back of the shop and turned the sign saying that they were closed. Seeing the actions of the NPC, Marcus caught the players looking at him intently. ¡°Fuck dude.¡± Marcus muttered, hoping that Stoner¡¯s actions wouldn¡¯t come around and bite him in the ass. ¡°You really went out on this one huh.¡± Stone said, as Marcus entered Stoner''s workshop. ¡°Yeah. I thought I¡¯d have a gun personalized for myself.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°The lowered drop chance was sweet too.¡± Stoner grunted, gesturing at the rifle sitting in a vise block. ¡°Are you going to help or what?¡± Marcus nodded, standing nearby as Stoner worked. He acted as a second pair of hands for Stoner as he held things and did the menial jobs. By doing so, Marcus received another notification.
Attention!
Would you like to learn the skill: Gunsmithing? Gunsmithing Increases reliability, accuracy, and familiarity gain when repairing, modifying, and building guns. Higher levels unlock more advanced gunsmithing actions. + reliability + Accuracy + familiarity gain
Now, with a dozen fighters under him and the rest of the clan members, Marcus could use a gunsmith under his command, if only to save money on modifications. But it can¡¯t be him. He can¡¯t spend the time tinkering with weapons, all the while leading an offensive force. Marcus, again, chose to decline. Still, it gave him an idea. He could try to recommend someone to work under Stoner as an apprentice. Maybe even a goblin. The modifications Marcus listed should have taken a week at the minimum. But this being a game, Stoner was able to finish it all in five hours. With a proud smile, Stoner handed Marcus the rifle.
Attention!
CMMG Mutant - Monster Built from a CMMG Mutant with a 16-inch barrel, it has been modified by an expert gunsmith as per the owner¡¯s specifications. It is modified to a cut down 10-inch barrel for better handling, suppressor for sound attenuation, heavier buffer weight for a lighter recoil impulse, tuned gas port for increased reliability, ambidextrous magazine release lever, and a crisp 4-pound trigger. This is a custom weapon built for the specifications of the owner. Effects are: -60% chance of dropping on death (Owner) -30% recoil reduction Lighter trigger for faster semi-automatic fire Better handling Weapon is named. Named effect is left blank. Increase familiarity and history with the weapon to infuse effects. Named effect: None Caliber: 7.62x39mm Familiarity: 0 Requirement: 4 Str Weight: 4.2kg Firing Mode: Semi/Automatic Mods: Holographic sight Suppressor Foregrip IR illuminator/Designator flashlight % Drop chance on death: 40%* *Drop chance is calculated with a base chance of 100% reduced by additional factors like weapon modifications and familiarity.
¡°It¡¯s a named rifle.¡± Marcus muttered in awe, ¡°With a blank trait.¡± ¡°Nothing but the best work from me.¡± Stoner replied. ¡°Aren¡¯t you lucky, huh?¡± ¡°Why? Why give me this?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°Let¡¯s say you have a better appreciation of the tools of the trade compared to the common man. A toolmaker would want for his best tools to be used by the best artists.¡± Marcus said nothing as he took another look at the rifle in his hands. He couldn¡¯t help but smile. It was perfect. Charging the rifle, Marcus felt the trigger. It was light and crisp. He bet with enough practice, he could pull the trigger fast enough for it to sound full auto. ¡°I gotta pay you back for this.¡± He muttered. Stoner scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t think you have the money if I charge you for my skills. So don¡¯t even try to ask.¡± ¡°I was thinking about giving you another pair of hands for help.¡± ¡°I get plenty of people asking me to teach them. I always say no, and I¡¯ll give the same answer to you.¡± Marcus had to relent. The look in Stoner¡¯s eyes betrayed that no amount of persuasion would change his mind. Whatever Stoner¡¯s reasons why he chose the way he ran his shop would be up to him. It looked personal, and Marcus decided not to pry. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Good luck with your fights.¡± Stoner said, nodding. ¡°Don¡¯t lose it.¡± ¡°I won''t.¡± Marcus nodded back. ¡°And thanks again.¡± ¡°Just get out of here.¡± Stoner replied, waving him off. ¡°I need to get some sleep.¡± Marcus nodded, stepping outside the shop. He needs some sleep too to make sure that he keeps sharp for the job with Columbus. Thinking further, it might be the last one he would do. In the range, Marcus packed his magazines. Pulling the charging handle and locking it back, he rocked a full magazine in place and pressed the magazine release button with his trigger finger, shaving half a second on his reload time. Looking at the distant target at the hundred-meter distance, Marcus set his rifle on one of the benches lining the range and began setting his ¡®battle zero¡¯ for his rifle.
Attention!
[Familiarity increased to 15!]
Marcus spent a few magazines worth of ammo practicing and finding his zero. He felt content with having to only center his reticle on the target to guarantee a hit within a hundred meters. Given the ranges he expected to fight with the rifle, it was more than enough. After packing his magazines once more, Marcus still had some ammo to burn. Just recently, the leaderboards on the CQB courses had been wiped. Marcus looked over at the entrance to the room and walked over in the direction. Might as well take a shot at the top while he was there. Entering the course, Marcus took a beeline for the catwalks above, giving him a full view of the course with the locations of the targets. The distances involved in the course ranged from 5 meters to 80 meters. Marcus then noted the locations of the targets and planned out his route from above and walked the course, once, twice, just enough to get a feel of the place before running it for the first time. Walking back to the start of the course, Marcus patted his vest and tested his magazines to make sure they slid smoothly out of their pouches. He then practiced the motion of reloading his rifle and shouldering it. When he felt ready, pressed the button on the side to start. CH 51: The Lab Twelve goblins stood facing each other, their weapons held at side port. AKMs, freshly cleaned and oiled gleamed under the meagre light, Type 56 vests filled with magazines, packs ready with ammunition and provisions to last them a whole three days. Guns, ammo, magazines, food, the list went on. Marcus had to make sure to include and predict as much unfortunate event as he could having proven Murphy¡¯s law all too well. Besides, they aren¡¯t going to be expecting a resupply the whole time leaving them no choice but to carry it all on their backs. Walking down the line, Columbus inspected each one and with a nod, came back to stand next to Marcus. ¡°Tell me. I¡¯m curious as to why you had to choose the goblins instead of your crew.¡± ¡°The underground is their home, we¡¯re just visitors. They can shoot as well as they need to be,¡± I made sure of that. He thought. ¡°And with the amount of guns we¡¯re taking with us and the place were going, any miss wouldn¡¯t matter that much. A long range firefight up top, I¡¯ll take them last. But here, in the dark cramped spaces of the underground, they¡¯re perfect for the job.¡± Marcus replied. With a wave, the twelve person squad donned their bags, then their ponchos. It looked as much as kids playing some army game, or a bunch of boy battalion ran by some African warlord. Shaking his head, Marcus unslung his rifle at a low ready. It was his newly acquired CMMG Mk47 ¡®Mutant¡¯, the unholy marriage of the east and the west. It being a unique weapon to be named by the owner, courtesy of Stoner, Marcus named it ¡®Just Business¡¯, feeling it fitting as it had been designed by a private company, in the old United States. As he walked the line, Marcus couldn¡¯t help but notice the looks it was garnering from the squad. The disparity between the look and function of the rifle, with its suppressor, holographic sight, lights and even polymer magazines, held against the stock AKMs the goblins had is an obvious mark of status, and serving its purpose well; distinguishing him from the rest and giving him authority. But with him using the same ammunition as them, similarity. Going back, Marcus noticed Columbus was armed AKS-74u, normally chambered for the 5.45x39mm, colloquially known as a Krink. It was manufactured as a shortened version of the AKS-74 with the triangular folding stock, it was issued to helicopter pilots and tankers, and during and after the invasion of Afghanistan, was seen as a trophy rifle to be displayed by martial tribal leaders of the Mujahideen at the time. But the curve of the magazine slotted was different, more curved than the 5.45x39mm magazines, it was chambered for the 7.62x39mm, same as theirs. Marcus knew there was no such rifles sold in the market, but suspected he sourced it through the same flea market Marcus got his Mutant. Both were armed and armored with the best money could reasonably buy, plate carriers with level 4+ plates, able to withstand 30-06 armor piercing rounds multiple times, passive shield generators, active shields like the first time holstered in close reach for quick defense, while the rest of the goblins would have to make do with their ballistic shields. It wasn¡¯t like they expected a firefight in the underground, but in the case that they do, protection of any sort are worth their weight in gold. ¡°Done with the pomp and ceremony?¡± Columbus asked. Marcus nodded. ¡°Ready to move out.¡± ¡°Then lets.¡± With another nod, Marcus led the way through the station. His size and his set up causing everyone he met along the way to squeeze to the side, ignoring the looks of the denizens of the station gave them. Columbus had already discussed the plan prior, with him showing a map of the location, which is a train carriage depot, neatly tucked underground. It was quite a long trek away but with them simply supposed to follow the train tracks, a straightforward affair. Jumping down the platform and into the rails, they walked over to the edge of the light and paused. Marcus lowered his NVG, banishing the darkens through the green filters of his goggles. He then sent Gabs forward to scout the way ahead under his watchful eye. The goblins moved with confidence, eyes ahead and both sides of the walls. They moved bounding forward, and stopping to listen, look for signs, footprints, disturbed scuffs in the thin growing lichen, scat, fresh, dried, desiccated. They moved like a machine, not well oiled and high speed, but reliable. They rarely missed a beat, and Marcus felt a bit proud. Time training had a good effect in making tactics, techniques, and procedures almost a second nature. Once in a while, shadowy figures darted from the shadows ahead. Gleaming eyes under the NVG lights peeked through holes in the tunnel walls, but they stayed in their burrows, the few that did, was turned away by a few shots sent their way designed, to scare more than to harm. As they continued down the tracks, following the map. They came upon the many common cave-ins blocking the track. Burrows dug into the walls with some draft coming in from a few holes. The goblins took position close to the burrows sniffing at the branching tunnels looking for anything inside. All the while, Columbus took his pack and placed a mining charge. With a dull thump, the small explosive sent up a puff of dust showering everyone with crushed concrete and flooding his pad with data. ¡°That one.¡± Columbus pointed at one of the burrows. With a wave, Marcus ordered the goblins to sweep the burrows ahead. Fleex ordered one of his men to crawl into the hole, followed a minute later by muffled gunfire, a shrill whistle and a couple more were sent. One came back, signaling an all clear. The rest crawled down the shaft, Marcus came up on an already dead Malif shoved to the tunnel walls, blood pouring out from its head and chest, dead. On the other side, they formed up and made a head-count. Everyone was present and they continued. The tracks gradually developed into a slight incline. Soon, they reached the rail depot. The space was massive. Panning with his IR weapon light, Marcus could one see the vaulted ceiling with his night vision. Overhead cranes and gantries, crisscrossed overhead, doubling up as catwalks on which anyone could use to move around or ambush them from above. Trains carriages were parked, occupying all the rail space, waiting for their conductors that would never come. On the far edge of the depot, Marcus could see an elevated room, glass windows facing out. Likely the control room. Suddenly, skittering echoed in the wide, empty hall. Claws scratched both metal and concrete as the beasts ran about. On the ground, the train cars blocked their sight. They couldn¡¯t see anything, only tracking whatever beasts lurking through sound. They were surrounded. Marcus¡¯s hairs raised, the lack of light and vision added to the dread and he could see the goblins sharing the sentiment and were starting to panic. Despite Marcus knowing that they could handle themselves, a niggling, primal human fear bubbled out about whatever lurked in the dark. Marcus looked at the men, and could see the fear of the unknown is starting to creep up, forcing Marcus to make a quick decision. He can¡¯t afford to have them break. Not now. Now facing against beasts, Marcus pulled up his NVG, opting for a simple light. Marcus pulled out a flare just as he saw a four-legged form dart between the train cars. He then struck the end, igniting it and bathing all of them in a dull, red glow. Marcus threw it towards the distance and watched as the figures retreated. ¡°Everyone tighten up. Anyone who breaks formation will get run down and ripped apart.¡± Marcus ordered. ¡°Columbus. You know how to open those train doors so we could climb in?¡± ¡°No idea.¡± Columbus replied. Marcus cursed. It would have been a lot of help if they could get inside the train cars. Getting in one would give them elevation, and also a measure of protection against attacks coming from the sides. ¡°Alright. Follow me.¡± Marcus ordered. Everyone stacked up behind them. Rifles were pointed in all directions as they slowly moved between the train cars, forwards against the sounds of every present skittering from all around them. If Marcus had been alone, he would have easily thought of his chance of survival and retreated. But being the leader of a squad and the objective in ahead of them, Marcus couldn¡¯t even afford to show any sign of fear in case his men were looking. Them seeing Marcus afraid would only scare them more, which is the last thing needed in the moment. As they slowly moved forward, a Malif ran between the trains and pounced at the goblin taking the rear. He was knocked off his feet and landed face first on the ground. He looked up, just as a pair of Malifs came around and bit at its throat. He rolled away, making the beasts grab at his gear instead. Taking purchase, the beasts then attempted to drag him away. He screamed. The goblins nearest to him reacted quickly. Two other goblins jumped atop him to weigh him down with their bodies and gear while another pair came with their rifles and started shooting at the two Malifs, killing them. Checking the goblin, he was fine. The hit only knocked him down and would only give him bruises for the next day. Still, it was lucky that he didn¡¯t get dragged away thanks to the others coming to his aid, but they couldn¡¯t continue this way. Igniting another flare, Marcus threw the light farther. Casting shadows in the distance. With the trains, the flare could only light so much. Still, the light gave a sort of early warning from the shadows cast by the beasts running by. But it wouldn¡¯t be enough. The Malif¡¯s advantage over them is their mobility, hearing and sight. Pulling a flashbang off his vest, he had to take a risk, not knowing if the light and sound would be able to scare them off or just prompt them all to attack. ¡°Flashbang out!¡± Marcus yelled, throwing the grenade towards a suspected group. The flashbang exploded in a bright light and a loud sound. The sharp sound of the explosion bounced between the concrete walls of the depot, and ringing the metal bodies of the trains, amplifying it. Throwing another at the other side, Marcus only hoped that it at least deafens the Malifs and scare them off. Thankfully, none of them charged at the group, and all moved in a crouched position to try to spot the beasts as they came. None did. Whether it was the flashbangs working, defensive movements, or a combination of the two, they all arrived at the base of the control room overlooking the depot. Marcus had the squad pause and form a circle. He tested the metal rungs and made sure that it could take the weight before sending people up one at a time and making sure that the metallic groans and creaks aren¡¯t going to be the ones warning of a structural collapse. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! The structure managed to hold all their weight. Now with the advantage of elevation, the goblins were keeping on taking potshots on the beasts as they darted behind every piece of cover. He then pulled out the map Columbus gave and oriented himself. With the lack of light, it was harder to compare their location against the map and so Marcus pulled down the NVG. Marcus managed to point out individual objects in the depot and compare it on the map. The door in the distance was labeled as Storage Room B on the map, but Columbus claimed that it¡¯s their objective. Knowing not to ask stupid questions, Marcus pointed at a steel door in the distance. ¡°It looks that way.¡± Compared to the rest of the metro, the walls in that part of the station looked more worn and less kept. Still, the bulkhead securing that part of the station gleamed free of rust compared to the others Marcus had seen before. They used the catwalks, it allowed them unchallenged view of the landscape and long lines of fire from beast coming in as they headed towards the door. There was a conveniently placed set of stairs nearby and they descended to an elevated platform. A steel single door stood next to the large rolling bulkhead, labeled B. The door was welded shut, with the terminal next to the door ripped out of its socket. ¡°We¡¯re clear.¡± Marcus reported, back facing the wall and keeping an eye at the distance. Columbus said nothing he simply spliced into the wires with his own terminal. The device lit up with a connection and he managed to unlock the door without any further trouble. With the system compromised, the door unlocked with a magnetic click and a beep. Machines whirred as the heavy bulkhead slid to the side. Everyone stacked up on the door, and Marcus led the way inside. The door leading to ¡°Storage Room B¡± opened up to a long and empty hall, still powered and illuminated by a long line of overhead lights. A vehicle, similar to a baggage truck used in the airports was parked to the side. The path cut a straight path ahead, which definitely went against the map given to them. ¡°Looks like this is the right way.¡± Columbus said, ¡°I just got a quest update.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a promising start. Enemies behind and the unknown in front. Whatever you''re looking for, someone went to a lot of effort trying to hide it.¡± Marcus said, pulling a couple of flashbangs off his pack and slotting them into his vest. ¡°As best as they could hide something this big that is, but didn¡¯t to a good job keeping it buried.¡± He then turned to the rest of his team and waved for them to scout ahead. ¡°Trust me, they did their best.¡± Columbus replied. The hallway led to a small security station with still working monitors showing camera feeds showing the hallway they had just passed through along with an empty rail tunnel. The arms cabinet only had a single Beretta M9 along with a couple of magazines and some ammo. Marcus would have just preferred to hand it over to either of the two squad leaders, but with only one gun to hand out, Marcus opted to keep it to himself as to not give out any sense of favoritism between the two ¡®Sergeants¡¯. Surprisingly, The lack of stale air was quickly made apparent. Ventilation was still active in this part of the underground. Further, they found side doors leading to rooms containing cleaning materials for the janitors, HVAC rooms still humming along and delivering fresh air underground. Clearing it, the team continued down and came out to the tunnels shown in one of the feeds shown in the security station. ¡°Fifty-fifty.¡± Marcus muttered. Without a map, they would have to guess. ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± Columbus muttered, pulling out another copy of his map and handing it over to Marcus. ¡°It¡¯s this way.¡± He said, gesturing towards the tunnel to the right. Marcus grunted as he looked at the map. ¡°You got anything else I should keep note about?¡± ¡°I have a key.¡± Columbus replied, ¡°It should be able to open the doors we need, but we¡¯ll know if that¡¯s true when we get to the facility. It also should be abandoned.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡± Marcus muttered. The goblins took point, jumping down the platform and moving ahead to scout just as they did on their approach. Soon, the rail tunnel started sloping down as they descended deeper underground. It wasn¡¯t that noticeable as they walked, and Marcus had to confirm by putting a few drops of water on the rails. He watched it flow down towards where they were heading. Compared to the other parts of the metro tunnels, it was smaller, with only a single rail line occupying the bored tunnel. This part of the tracks was composed of heavier gauge tracks specified for heavier freight and the lack of side rooms for maintenance. There were no visible ventilation shafts drilled into the tunnel, yet after wetting his finger and holding it up, Marcus could still feel a draft. An hour of walking, and they reached the end of the tunnel. Blocked by a bulkhead. After an hour of seeing nothing but rails, pillars and concrete panels, his weapon light casting upon the unmarred heavy chrome door was more than a welcome sight to behold. Unlike the first one they passed, this was lit with a still working overhead light with a sign saying keep out. The panel next to it was also powered, and Columbus went on to his job of cracking it while Marcus ordered everyone to cover their sectors. ¡°I thought you said you had a key?¡± Marcus asked Columbus, who had just peeled off a panel off the terminal and started jacking into open ports and exposed wire junctions. ¡°I did.¡± Columbus answered, not elaborating any further. With a beep, the terminal was bypassed and the bulkhead unlocked. It opened slowly under the loud sounds of motors whirring, and Marcus took a peek inside just as a crack opened. On the other side is another single platform station, the end of the line with commuter train lay unpowered on the track. Marcus led the way, rifle raised and his aim centered on pieces of cover. The rest of the goblin force followed behind, rifle raised and fanned out. It was empty, and dark. There were no dried crusting bodies on the floor, only trash and random objects strewn about, giving the feeling of them setting their foot into a hastily abandoned station. So far, Columbus¡¯ intel seems to be checking out. Marcus thought to himself. Hopping onto the platform. A long hallway led further into the facility. With nowhere else to go, they followed the hallway. The clicking of boots and ever rustling of cloth sounded loud against the dead silence of the facility. Even Marcus could hear his own heartbeat overlapping with air dispersed through the vents. ¡°Seems like there¡¯s no one home.¡± Marcus muttered. ¡°You think they evacuated?¡± ¡°They should.¡± Columbus replied as they continued forward. Soon, they arrived at a security area. Rows of ID scanners bisected the space with a bag scanner. They don¡¯t have any IDs but with the barriers being only waist height and turned off, it was no problem climbing over them. They were at a T junction in the hall, with unmarked doors spread all around. From the numbers of electronic locks set on every door, somehow with power. But still no lights. ¡°The laboratory has seven levels, and we are currently at level 3. Our objective is two levels below, at the data processing. There, we should have access to all data this facility has gathered up to now.¡± Columbus said, pulling out a security card and scanning it on a nondescript door. With a beep, the door slid silently to the side, revealing a long, dark and sterile hall flanked by doors. ¡°Shields front.¡± Marcus ordered, preparing for a fight to break out anytime while hoping to find no enemies in this seemingly abandoned station. Fleex sent his shield bearer forward, the unfortunate followed, moving in a crouch while the rest of his squad mates followed behind. Marcus watched and let the goblins go ahead until they reached the end of the hall before following. There, at the end of the hall, was another security door, which was electronically locked and required another security key swipe. Above the door was a security camera. Its red blinking lights indicated that it was still running. Checking the map Columbus gave him, Marcus found the central security station to be on the same level as the data processing and the armory. Marcus cursed under his breath, it would have been nice to find access to the facility¡¯s security feeds and see if they could find enemies ahead, but as Columbus opened the door into what looked to be the facility''s cafeteria, they would have to wait and see. Entering the room, Marcus saw rows and rows of benches. It looked to be big enough to accommodate hundreds of employees at the same time, which doesn¡¯t bode well for their small squad sized element. This place could have housed thousands of employees at any time, which would turn out to be a big problem if they happened to have turned into zombies. Marcus looked at the surroundings as it somehow reminded him of the start of the movie Resident Evil, just as all things went to shit. ¡°You gotta have done your research about this place, right? What can you tell me?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°It¡¯s a secret laboratory run by Modapharma. One of the corporations that grouped into a coalition that ignited the Corporate war, if you bothered to read the lore. We''re here to find out what this place is for.¡± ¡°Should have started with that, I would have taken more people.¡± Marcus said. ¡°A mission to infiltrate an abandoned underground lab made by a pharmaceutical company and get access to a computer inside. I¡¯m getting some kind of d¨¦j¨¤ vu here.¡± Movement. Marcus aimed his rifle at the object to find it was a robot. Like a Roomba but more advanced with little arms, it patrolled the interior of the cafeteria and diligently did its duty and made every surface it could reach spotless. Marcus lowered his rifle. It explains why this place was clean. He thought. ¡°Where to?¡± ¡°The elevator is this way.¡± Columbus said, pointing to a hall. ¡°I¡¯d rather take the stairs.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°that way we don¡¯t have to be trapped in a suspended metal box.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± Columbus replied after a moment, ¡°We¡¯ll go use the stairs.¡± Consulting an evacuation map scattered along the cafeteria walls, the stairs were situated next to the elevator. As the team moved, Marcus noticed the goblins started to feel lax. They were getting more interested in what they could carry out of the facility instead of looking out for threats. Marcus whistled, giving the two Sergeants a glare, who then whipped the rest up to keep their head in the mission. Arriving at the stairs, it descended further deep into the earth. Hawking a glob, Marcus spat down and counted how long it took to hit the bottom. It took it a long while and was about to send the first section in when he heard elevator just outside ding, doors opening. Marcus ran out of the stairway and into the hall, now lit up. His rifle raised just in time to see an unkempt old man with his hands held up. Abandoned my ass. Marcus thought to himself. ¡°Please don¡¯t shoot.¡± The man said. Marcus said nothing, instead pulled the old man into the hall and cleared the elevator. Turning around, the rest have caught up and held the old man in gunpoint. ¡°Please don¡¯t shoot!¡± The man repeated, pleading. Through his weapon sights, he could see the man¡¯s terrified face looking back at him. White hair and bushy beard, he wore a thick pair of glasses over electric blue eyes. Seeing as it was just an old man, Marcus lowered his rifle and looked at him closer. The old man wore a lab coat and was visibly shaking at the presence of heavily armed men and goblins. Columbus stood next to Marcus, pointing his AK at the man. ¡°Who are you?¡± Marcus asked the old man, shoving him to the wall and started patting him down the same way he saw in the movies, legs and arms spread, and pushed up against a wall. Running his hands through the man¡¯s pockets, Marcus came up with a pen, a pad, and an ID with the man¡¯s face, which had a level 4 clearance. Marcus passed everything to Columbus, who diligently checked. ¡°My name is Doctor Robert Isaac. I am a researcher here.¡± ¡°Where are the others?¡± Marcus asked, turning him around and checking his front, his sleeves, and even his junk. He¡¯s clean. Pressing a hand on his chest, Marcus backed off and warded him to stay on his side of the wall. Still looking at Marcus¡¯ rifle, the doctor swallowed. ¡°They left. I wasn¡¯t able to evacuate with the rest.¡± ¡°You spent all your time here? Didn¡¯t even try to get out on your own?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°I¡­ I had to keep it in check. The thing they made here.¡± Columbus and Marcus glanced at each other. ¡°What thing?¡± ¡°I¡­ it''s hard to explain. I¡­ It¡¯s better if I just show you.¡± CH 52: Suspicions The ¡°thing¡± was a blob of flesh with no apparent structured form. Tumor-covered tentacles splayed from its center, slowly probing against its containment. It moved extremely slowly, and Marcus wondered why the doctor was so scared of it. They were currently at Level 6, one level above the lowest and was tagged ¡®Specimen Containment¡¯ and had passed through multiple card and code locked doors to enter. In hindsight, Marcus thought that it might have been a bad idea. They didn¡¯t have the codes, and even though they could take the ID card from the doctor, they¡¯d have to brute force the code locks to get out. ¡°Why can¡¯t you kill it?¡± Marcus asked, tapping the armored glass as if it was just a goldfish in a tank. In a response, the creature raised one of its tentacles and slammed it against the enclosure. The impact jarred the structure, but it held. ¡°It¡¯s a Siphonophore. Individual creatures that form together into a colony. Each cell has been bio-engineered to survive extreme heat and chemical means. Individually, the cells can be killed easily, but as the colony has grown, only a large dose of radiation can kill it.¡± He said. ¡°Before you ask why I let it grow this big, it was already at this size when I discovered it in a dormant state.¡± ¡°And after all this time you spent here, you haven¡¯t found a way to kill it? Like fire or something?¡± Marcus asked, skeptical of the man¡¯s answers. ¡°Besides, it doesn¡¯t look dormant to me.¡± Isaac looked down. ¡°I¡­ I wasn¡¯t really good at my job. I only got to this position due to my wife, who used her position in the company to secure me in a cushy job where I don¡¯t have to do much.¡± He then looked up. ¡°As for its dangers, it is a bio-engineered creature designed to destroy a city just by contaminating its water supply. From my tests and the lab results I can access, it can survive the harsh conditions within the human body. With its extremely rapid reproduction cycle, it can overtake the human body¡¯s defenses and kill them within two days. There is only one cure, a high dose of radiation. But once symptoms are detected, it¡¯s already too late.¡± The doctor paused, gazing at the creature through the window. ¡°It¡¯s the foulest weapon. A crime not only against the laws of war, but humanity itself.¡± ¡°Riiight.¡± Marcus muttered, sharing a look with Columbus, who stood in the corner. With a nod, he left the room. Columbus didn¡¯t look to be concerned about taking control of the situation, so Marcus went ahead, acting as if he were in charge. Besides, they could just do the good cop, bad cop. ¡°We¡¯ll leave you to it then.¡± Marcus said, tapping the doctor on the shoulder and giving a thumbs up. ¡°Good luck!¡± The doctor looked at Marcus incredulously. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to help? After everything I told you?¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°The way I see it. You already said that it¡¯s hell of a lot dangerous and it seems that you had it handled. You¡¯re the smartest person here, so you¡¯re the one who knows how to kill it best. Besides, we¡¯re here for another reason. What we can do is report this place to the authorities and make it their problem.¡± ¡°Please! You have to kill it!¡± Doctor Isaac pleaded as he jumped and grabbed at Marcus¡¯s legs. Marcus tried to pry his arms off when he felt a drop of water fall on his hand. The man was crying. ¡°Please! I don¡¯t want to stay here any longer. I need to leave this place. I want to go home!¡± Marcus sighed. He wanted to kick the doctor away as he couldn¡¯t take another side quest on top of what they were already doing. Still, he¡¯s on the clock and could just let Columbus decide. Marcus looked at Columbus, who stood outside, reading his notes. ¡°What do you think?¡± ¡°It shouldn¡¯t take too long.¡± Columbus replied. ¡°What do you need us to do?¡± The doctor sniffed, standing and wiping the tears and snot dribbling down his face. ¡°I¡¯ve tried many things. Poisoning it would only give it resistance to the chemical, burning it would take a lot of fuel, more than this facility has on hand. There is only one thing that kills anything living, and I am loath to admit it¡¯s the only way. We have to flood this place with radiation. We have to cause the fission reactor at the lowest level to go into a meltdown.¡± Marcus could only roll his eyes at the doctor¡¯s dramatics, which reeked of desperation. Surely, there are other ways to kill something besides causing a reactor meltdown and creating the most exotic and dangerous substance known to mankind. Nevermind that it''s likely a crime against humanity, and would get him on the Light of the Stars administration¡¯s shitlist faster than he could say they shouldn¡¯t park the ship there. Shaking his head, he caught Columbus looking at him. ¡°Stall him.¡± Columbus mouthed. Marcus nodded. ¡°Considering that this place hadn''t been reduced into a radiated shit heap, I¡¯m guessing there isn''t a button somewhere with a sign, ¡®reactor meltdown¡¯ is there?¡± He asked the doctor. The doctor sniffed. ¡°Nuclear reactors are designed to use fissile materials to generate heat over a long duration and are surrounded by numerous safety measures and locks. But I have put in enough time to know how to make it unstable enough, but I didn¡¯t have access to the facility itself.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°So it¡¯s just running on its own right now? If that¡¯s the case, we can just let it be. Nothing lasts without maintenance anyway.¡± Marcus shrugged. ¡°The containment for the thing would long fail before the reactor does. There is no other way.¡± Doctor Isaac shook his head. ¡°If you don¡¯t have access, I guess we could blow the door up. Or cut our way in.¡± Marcus offered, knowing well that doors guarding a piece of the sun would withstand an explosion or blow torch. Still, he needed to stall, and talking is one way to do it. ¡°You have a shop here or something? Maybe an armory with some explosives?¡± ¡°The armory reserved for the guards should have it. As for the machine shop, there is one in level 4.¡± the Doctor replied. Marcus¡¯s eyes lit up at the mention of an armory. Wondering what kind of goodies might be in store. ¡°Then we should get to it.¡± Columbus said, pinching and rubbing his nose as if it were a habit. It Wasn¡¯t something Marcus had seen Columbus do before, not even once, despite all the time they¡¯d spent together. A sign. ¡®Something smells? Good. He wasn¡¯t trusting of him either.¡¯ Marcus thought to himself. Knowing Columbus, he''d beeline for their objective, securing it first before something happened. Doubling the need for Marcus to make sure the doctor was distracted. ¡°Alright doc. Since you¡¯re all about flooding this facility with deadly radiation, I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t mind us taking what we can out, right? You know, for our troubles, and making sure that we got enough money to pay for treatment and keep our balls from falling off.¡± The doctor nodded. ¡°You can take whatever you want. As long as we kill it.¡± Marcus smiled. ¡°Lead on Doc. Show us what we can play with.¡± The doctor led them through the halls, past laboratories filled with expensive looking equipment. On their way down the levels, Marcus noticed the puffy suits doctors wore in the movies, behind thick glass windows, the kind used when handling with dangerous biological substances that typically start the apocalypse. One thing he could agree with the doctor was that this place had to be destroyed. Past a decontamination chamber and another short hallway, they reached a code locked elevator leading to level 4. The doctor unlocked the elevator using his ID and a code. Despite the doctor''s attempts to cover it with his body, Marcus saw it. He might not have caught it the first time, but he caught it on the third time he entered the same code on the readers. 55938, that was it. Still, why would he try to hide the codes when he wanted this place destroyed? As the elevator opened, Marcus stepped close to the Doctor in case he got the bright idea of leaving them there. The doctor didn¡¯t make a break for it, and they all filled into the elevator heading up to the higher levels. The elevator opened at the 4th level and everyone filled out. The layout was similar to the other levels. Bright halls, white tiles, sterile walls, and doors with room numbers instead of names. The doctor led them down the hall and into a door numbered 124, which opened up to an armory. Marcus grinned as he beheld the room. He took a deep breath through his nose, smelling the scent of metal and oil as he barely restrained himself on the sights of M4s, SR-25s and Mossberg 500s lined up racks with cans of ammunition, on the other side were energy weapons. Marcus didn¡¯t know much about them, but they looked high grade. Whatever the priority was during the evacuation, it didn¡¯t seem to be the facility¡¯s armory. He grinned, jackpot. With a wave, the goblins went to secure the loot, loading everything in bags conveniently folded just under the metal lockers. ¡°Damn doc. You guys take your security seriously. There must be enough here to equip a small army.¡± Marcus said as they walked further into the armory. The room was deep, with dozens of guns for each type, enough to fit and equip a whole platoon. ¡°It was a precaution during the war.¡± The doctor replied. Then, as if just remembering, he asked. ¡°How did it go, actually? Is it still going on?¡± ¡®Oh, now you¡¯re asking what¡¯s going on outside?¡¯ Marcus shrugged. ¡°No idea, really. Some people say it¡¯s still going on, some say it¡¯s done. Right now, there isn¡¯t much shooting, but that could mean anything. For all I know, they could just be saving bullets for the next fight.¡± he answered as vaguely as possible. The Doctor nodded, then pulled another ID and scanned it at the reader. Deeper in the armory, behind a more secure secondary door, were crates. Gear, more ammunition, and, most importantly; blocks of explosive charges and detonators. There were also some claymore mines stacked on a shelf, untouched. Trying to be as unsuspecting as possible, Marcus walked to the shelves of explosives and counted the blocks of C4. ¡°This should be enough.¡± Marcus lied, picking up a 1 pound brick. If he was to guess, there were enough high explosives in the room to demolish a good part of the facility. But nothing against a containment door. On the way out, Marcus found the goblins had finished packing up the loot. A line of duffle bags lay at their feet, filled to the brim with weapons and the greatest riches the goblins have ever seen. Despite the packed loot, more remained in the racks. Marcus turned to the doctor. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, we¡¯ll be handling your half of the job once we¡¯re on the last load out.¡± He winked just as the goblins started hauling the duffle bags out of the room. ¡°Find someplace nice and safe by the platform and hide it there. We would be getting all of them on the way out.¡± ¡°Killing the organism takes precedence! You agreed!¡± The doctor protested. ¡°With a job this big, we shouldn¡¯t be rushing, doc. Either we do it right, or we don¡¯t do it at all.¡± Marcus grinned. ¡°You said it yourself. We have to kill that thing. So we should make sure to do it right. Now, where can I find some wires?¡± A flash of annoyance passed over the doctor¡¯s face. Marcus noticed it but pretended not to. ¡°That would be at the 5th level. Machine room and spare parts storage. There, you should be able to find any technical resource you might need.¡± ¡°Sweet.¡± Marcus smiled, stepping to the side. ¡°Lead the way.¡± Marcus was still smiling when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Columbus signal for him to distract the doctor. Marcus didn¡¯t react and called, ¡°Say, Doc. You never really seemed interested in why we¡¯re here in the first place.¡± The doctor paused, slowly turning to Marcus. ¡°It might have slipped my mind.¡± He said, just as Columbus raised his rifle and hit the man on the back of the head with the buttstock. It failed to knock Doctor Isaac out, he stumbled, disoriented, but not out. The scientist quickly regained his wits and reached for something in his pocket. ¡°Restrain him!¡± Marcus was already moving before the order. With a punch, he sent the good doctor to the ground and dove after him. Having seen enough spy movies, he opened the man¡¯s mouth and shoved the side of his palm in to prevent him from biting on anything.The goblins quickly helped, seizing all his limbs and spreading him apart as if preparing him to be drawn and quartered. Zipties came out, secured around his limbs. ¡°So why now?¡± Marco asked, as he shoved a thick wad of cloth down the doctor¡¯s mouth and secured it with tape. Columbus reached for the Doctor''s pocket and retrieved a device. Marcus was annoyed that he missed it, or maybe he picked it up somewhere. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure who he really was. As you said, I did my research before coming here. Doctor Robert Isaac isn¡¯t just a researcher in this facility. He is part of Modapharm¡¯s board of directors and the one who ran this place. My quest started out to just find out the purpose of this facility. But I suppose we also have to make sure the experiments here never escape to the outside.¡± Columbus said, lowering his gaze to the Doctor. ¡°And make sure the ones responsible face justice.¡± Marcus nodded. ¡°What¡¯s the plan then?¡± ¡°Search this place for anything useful; data, evidence, anything. If we can get a sample of that creature in that tank, even better.¡± Interlude: Story So Far Marcus wakes up 200 years into the future Mars as he is pulled out of his cryogenic sleep and recovers from his neurological disease. Starting his life anew, the life he lived is gone, and everyone he knew is dead. He has some relatives, but 200 years of separation had made them strangers. Still, with his new found chance in life, Marcus needed to start getting reintegrated into this new world. He talks with his assigned psychologist, Ylenka, while being supported by a stipend provided by the state. Finding a job is hard in the future, having been an engineer before, his qualifications are badly out of date, training is in the cards but with Marcus still in recovery, would be well in the future. Everything so far has been alien, the Martian gravity being weaker than what he knew back on earth, the technological progress and the appearance of aliens, who under the threat of persecution, has to be treated with the utmost respect by humanity. Marcus needed something familiar, so he tried VR. Seeing the selection, he decided on the game, Aim Down Sights, which gave him access to a world ruined by war. Plugging into VR felt right. Marcus¡¯s in game responds well to his commands, unlike his real body where he still had to train it to learn basic motor functions, moving in the game felt instinctive. Reviewing his starting locations, Marcus chose the location UNCS Light of the Stars, a ship that crashed in the middle of a city, breaking in half but still retaining enough of its functionality that it had become the hub of the area. It provided protection for the players, along with access to basic services like food, water, and guns. With his previous experience in 2 gun competitions, Marcus found the gunplay intuitive. His honed skills gave him a leg up against the other players, with the 200 years of him being on ice bringing about the suppression of the 1st amendment right of bearing arms. It caused the cultural knowledge to atrophy. With the ban being lifted a year before, and the interest surging back up on the interglobal consciousness, just like with medieval combat and samurai culture. Logging in, Marcus loved the novel sensations. The dirt, the grime and the dirtiness unlike the sanitized air of his new Martian home. He wandered about, finding Stoner, the ship trader dealing with the traditional small arms. They make small talk, Marcus is given a weapon to which he tries out in the range. He finds out that there is an in-built Aim assist which subtly overrides player controls in order to aid with aiming and shooting. He finds the feature lacking, slow, and the process of aid repulsive. It was a crutch. He quickly turned it off and relied solely on his muscle memory and years of practice. After familiarizing himself with the game, he gets the feel for it and tries out the challenges. He placed high, which caught the attention of Stoner, who complains with how the players aim are bad, he is rewarded along with an offer for a job. But since the slot is only for one person, and that there are two of them, Marcus would have to compete for the opportunity. Marcus is intrigued, and accepts. He meets with Columbus, the job creator, and Ylena, the other competitor. It was a simple time trial through rooms and obstacles which tested their reaction speed and aim. Marcus won. Ylenka was a good sport, and sends him a friend request. With Columbus funding the operation, Marcus is supplied with an MDR in 5.56x45mm. Energy shields which greatly negates damage from Energy weapons, but is vulnerable against ballistic projectiles. This divides the game between PVE with the use of energy weapons and PVP, using guns. Columbus needs top shooters because his quest requires protection from both players and monsters. Columbus leads the way, sharing little information about his objectives. Marcus was fine with the arrangement, focusing solely on making sure that Columbus is protected. They navigate through the bowels of the ship, through crawl spaces and into a breach underneath, giving access to an underground tunnel leading deeper into the city¡¯s massive metro network. They dropped down into the depths. Columbus led them through Monster nests, past cave-ins using mining equipment to map out and find ways through. They find a new type of enemy, goblins. Marcus takes them out with ease to which they later find a mural in the tunnel walls, near a bulkhead leading into a train station. Columbus studies the mural only, for him to level up past the assigned limit and activates the automated defense system of the station calibrated to react to players within a certain level. The turret was armed with a heavy energy weapon. Columbus and Marcus managed to survive the encounter and get through using a dedicated Energy shield, but not without damage. Columbus had been fatally wounded from the encounter, but a phoenix regeneration stim allowed him a full recovery. They press on, with Columbus searching for clues and accessing computers. Through one of the doors, they discover Songbird Station, a settlement of goblins and is led by their Chief, Tiul. Having just survived the encounter with the still active turret, they couldn¡¯t simply go back, and with Columbus¡¯s decision, they surrendered. In their cages, both men noticed that their quest hadn¡¯t failed yet. The next day, Marcus finds that he is alone, with Columbus having gone and started negotiations, he is led to Columbus where he meets with Chief Tiul, and Bo; a player who managed to get ahead of them from the discovery. Marcus is given a list of parts and materials, paid for by Columbus. Columbus needed information for his quest, and went with the most direct bribery. Marcus recognizes an opportunity. Before the fight leading to the station and watching their equipment, Marcus notices that they are using simple pipe weapons, and inquires about their armorer¡¯s need for parts and plans to provide for them while also finishing Columbus¡¯s needed tasks for him. With the information, Marcus connects with Bo with their shared engineering background and convinces Bo to design weapons for the goblins using as simple and little parts as possible, challenging his Mechanical Engineering skills for it along with sharing that it would be good practice. Getting his guns and equipment back, Marcus is guided out of the station where he has to find his own way back through the surface back into the ship. On the way, he encounter¡¯s Rex and Anna, who are both in a situation, being ambushed by a large pack of mutated beasts. Marcus assists the beleaguered group. The presence of a player using projectile weapons, established for its use in PVP, decides to retreat, leaving Rex and Anna to tend to their wounds and what is assumed to be their fate. He met with both Rex and Anna, discovering that they have been kicked out of the group using the loophole of them being accused of abandoning their teammates along with the penalties. Marcus decides that they group up instead and they all head towards the direction of the ship. On the way, they find a newly spawned Scav hideout overlooking a skyway, which is the quickest way back to the ship. Rex and Anna preferred to simply go around the roadblock and find another way through, but with Marcus on a time crunch and scouting the location, decides to take out the bandit hideout with what they have. Fighting NPC¡¯s, Marcus takes them out, and finds that they have more loot than they could transport. Marcus shares this problem with the two, to which they share a connection they have: Battlebus, a battle taxi service to which an armored vehicle would head to your location for exfiltration or infiltration. Having had his fill of combat and still suffering his wounds as a result of the fight, Marcus takes them up on the offer to which an M113 armored personnel carrier arrived, driven by Ripley and Adept. They loaded up their loot and were quickly back to the ship. Marcus pays for it using Columbus¡¯s credit and also sets up a time slot for delivering the needed material for his errand for Columbus. With a wave, Marcus splits with Rex and Anna. Still suffering the results of his wounds from the fight, Marcus opts to get himself healed using the ship¡¯s autodoc before logging out. He needed surgery to pull out the bullets still lodged in his body, closed by his regeneration stims. As he gets underneath the knife, he feels excruciating pain as the blade cuts into his body and starts rooting around. He is kicked out of the pod, followed by inquiries from the VR pod¡¯s manufacturer as to the reason for the issue. Later, it is found that there is nothing wrong with the equipment. It is deemed to be a personal issue for Marcus himself and is banned from accessing the pod. But the game is starting to be a good way for Marcus to make money. Needing to clear his head from his inability to do anything with the problem, he goes for a run for him to encounter a Scion and takes him up on its previous offer for assistance, to be able to get back on the game despite knowing the dangers. His restriction from accessing the game is lifted and Marcus logs back into the game, he starts handling to find the listed equipment which turns out to be much harder than he initially thought. Some of the electronics listed are restricted for sale, making him turn into the black market, using Columbus¡¯s contacts. He heads to Stoner, extending his proposition. Marcus would get access to Stoner¡¯s scrapped weapons for small parts he could recover. In exchange, he would be buying them at higher prices than Stoner would get if he would just send it to the forge to be melted. As he goes to contact the NPC black market, with their rates much more expensive than the normal, he sets up pickup for the rest of the needed equipment. Ylenka contacts him to meet, Marcus agrees and waits ahead only for him to meet with a group of players warning him of Columbus. Marcus thought little of it as he meets with Ylenka, who presses him for information about the Columbus¡¯s job but Marcus refuses to divulge any information. Ylenka later pivots to asking Marcus to teach her about marksmanship. Marcus accepts, even throwing in the rest of Ylenka¡¯s team, Honest Scribes, in. He is offered money for the service but settled for a favor instead. Marcus divulges that the reason he is very good at shooting is that he is from 200 years ago. After making so many deals for his service, he is offered by the game of a class: Mercenary. He accepts, seeing as it is a unique class and fits his current playstyle. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. While he waited for the delivery of the equipment sourced from the black market, he is approached by Demented who is curious of who beat him from the ship leaderboards, and offers him a place in their guild. Sable rock Tunnellers, SRT. Marcus, having his Mercenary class, instead offers to be put in employment instead. The price is steep, given that Marcus didn¡¯t want to be part of the guild and is only using it as a polite excuse. Demented balks at the price, tries to negotiate it down, to which Marcus quips that some players are willing to pay for that rate. He meets with Adept and Ripley, running Battlebus services and loads up the supplies. They head out of the ship and arrive at the location where Marcus had the goblins pick up and haul the supplies for him. He heads down to the station with his gift for the Chief, a PKM machine gun he looted off the scavengers before. Columbus is not present for the moment and Marcus also finished the delivery of the needed equipment and materiel for his behalf. Using the goodwill given by the gift and the completion of the delivery, Marcus offers an offer for the chief. That he could serve as the station¡¯s gunrunner, supplying much needed weapons for the defense of the station, in exchange, he would be able to have access to one of the station¡¯s main trade, the tea. Having tasted the tea during his first visit, Marcus saw the potential of the herb. Despite giving small bonuses, it lasts long and would be worth it for the players just for the added stats. Chief Tiul, holding his newly acquired weapon, is convinced and agrees to the setup. He is then given an initial batch to sell to the ship. Knowing that just the agreement would be able to shake up the station¡¯s economy, Marcus approaches the station¡¯s Armorers and extends them a peace offering. A weapon design which is a combination of the m3 grease gun and the Australian Owen gun, combining the robust and ease of manufacture that takes into account the station¡¯s low industry. The Armorer¡¯s are content with the gift, followed by the sale of weapon springs and parts. His business in the station finished, Marcus used the tunnels to have direct access to the ship and met with an NPC vendor he met during his first day in the game, Malinka. He gives her the offer to be the one to sell the product to which she agrees as Marcus is only expecting pay after disposing of them for him. The next day, IRL, Marcus meets with the manufacturer¡¯s of the pod following the event and his unique situation, there, he meets with the researchers where he would be supplied by an experimental version of the pod and a contract for him to serve as a guinea pig for the improvement of the product. One part of the contract is that the Scion would also be observing him for their own reasons. Marcus, having little choice, agreed. Marcus then finds himself in his room, looking at his millennium pod that came with him in the event of him being cryogenically preserved. He watched the messages his brother and his family left along with a disassembled family 1911 heirloom. Marcus logs in and finds the Scion already plugged to his connection. He logs in and buys guns from Stoner. He is not happy with the bulk purchases as it brings suspicion on him but lets it slide this once as Marcus was simply buying used guns that are sold to Stoner. Marcus agrees that it would be the first and last time and runs the batch of guns back to the tunnels. On the way, Marcus asks the Scion why with the billions of people living around the solar system, he simply had the luck to be associated with the aliens. It divulges that it was all to observe him. As he was from the 21st century, back when humanity is considered to be much more violent and in extension, Marcus too. It is feared that Marcus would turn to crime. Marcus is furious at the information, for being profiled despite not doing anything illegal. He orders that the Scion simply observe and not talk to him. He completes his delivery and meets with Bo when the station is attacked. The Laser turret that guarded one of the entrances has been taken out by a rocket and the checkpoint is under assault. Marcus joins in on the defense and wipes the attackers out. Looting, Marcus finds out their names and discovers that they are part of a much larger clan. SRT. Researching about them, he found that they have just recently moved in and are already throwing their weight around. Marcus is worried that they might try and take over the station for themselves and with the turret protecting the station from attacks now in ruins, the station needed better defenses. Using his mercenary class, Marcus recruits manpower from the station after making the chief realize the danger of his situation. He then equips them along with giving training. They secure the underground route between the station and the ship, to which Marcus heads up and buys weapons for his Goblins, using his personal funds. He contacts Ylenka, needing more people to be part of the effort to defend the station and she agrees, taking in the rest of her group, Honest Scribes. He also takes in Rex and Anna, already considering the amount of credits that would be poured into the defense of Songbird station. Their rewards for participating would be the sharing of the quest to everyone involved. The station is then attacked once again by the SRT. The defenses hold and Crusty and his team are wiped out once more. Marcus goes back to the station, delivering guns and ammunition. They donate all of it and are rewarded with contribution points tied to the Songbird station. Contribution points are considered worth much more than the credits they spent. Marcus is then informed of the new attack. Marcus, thinking that they would need allies, approaches the TAS, Track, Assault, Squat, the local rival of the SRT. Marcus proposes that they combine forces against the SRT as the TAS and Marcus and his friends wouldn¡¯t be able to handle them by themselves. The representative, Razer, agrees that he would get the word to their guild leader but the TAS have to first get a measure of them. They agree to conduct an operation. The target was a building overlooking the TAS base and the sniper that was posted atop it. The sniper has its own security which gives a bit of a complication. Marcus, with the help of Ylenka and the rest of the Honest Scribes, developed a plan where the Honest Scribes would stage a distraction to allow Marcus to sneak into the building and take out the sniper. Marcus would have to take out the sniper within the expected reaction time of the guild to send their Quick Reaction Force. All the while, TAS would be doing their own operation on the other side of town to delay the Quick Reaction Force as much as they could. With Razer serving as the TAS representative for the operation, it was a go. Marcus sneaks into the building after climbing through the building side and through a higher story window. The Scribes initiated their part of the plan by simultaneously hitting a machinegunner with a volley, taking it out in an instant. This allowed Marcus to sneak around and take out more SRT members, unaware of the threat already inside the building and weakening the defenders. Marcus headed up to the upper floors to take out the sniper itself to find that it was Demented himself. They fight. Marcus manages to win by bulling through and incapacitating Demented with an arm bar. Demented tries to kill Marcus with a hidden grenade but fails. Marcus takes the proof of kill; Demented¡¯s dog tags and a dropped custom pistol. Razer and Ylenka, along with two of his men, meet with him. The assault on the building being a success with the defenders wiped out. They leave while Horn serves as the overwatch, relaying the developments on the ground; that the QRF has been retasked to their location and is now bearing down on them. On foot, they are pursued by Demented¡¯s little brother, Crusty, and his team. With their objectives in hand and needing nothing else but to extract, Marcus, Razer and Ylenka and two of her team fought a fighting retreat heading towards the nearby extraction point, the entrance to the underground metro where Marcus¡¯s team of goblins waits to guide them through the maze. In a rolling firefight, they did their best to get away from their pursuers only to be caught up by the SRT¡¯s QRF. Razer volunteered to serve as a distraction that allowed Marcus and the rest to get away through the tunnels. Back on the Songbird station, Bo had been busy helping with its fortification. One of the biggest advantages Marcus recognized of the SRT was their quick reaction force, heavily armored and armed. But it shouldn¡¯t be effective in a fight underground. Still the operation should be enough to distract the SRT and keep them off balance, and hopefully take their attention away from the Station. After training more of the goblin forces in the station, Marcus heads back to the ship and towards the bar to meet with the TAS leadership following the successful operation. Demented and Crusty were already waiting for him. Demented wants to buy his pistol back but it had already been spoken for. Demented tries to offer him a good deal for it but Marcus continues to refuse. Demented, recognizing that he won¡¯t be able to convince Marcus at the moment, decides to leave. Razer arrives a while later with the TAS leader, Melnik, in tow. Marcus shows the proof of kills, Demented¡¯s dog tags and his pistol, Melnik wants the pistol for himself, but Marcus has a better offer. He has footage from the Scion¡¯s viewpoint, over Marcus¡¯s shoulder for the whole duration along with Razer¡¯s part, edited to make him look even more heroic. It turns out that Razer has already convinced Melnik. They have their own POVs of the fight and it was enough to want Marcus to join their guild. Marcus refuses, content with their current arrangement. Even informing them that the SRT had once tried to recruit him into their clan. Melnik understands and they continue their arrangement. They would keep fighting the SRT, mutually supporting each other. The TAS leave, but not before handing Marcus a security card for one of the storage locations inside the ship. He accepts it, not knowing what is inside. Marcus goes to check it out, and then runs to the TAS, who just received their own deliveries for a pair of Tigr armored personnel carriers fitted with remote weapon systems. They ask if Marcus wants to ride with them but he refuses, preferring to check out the storage gifted to him and marvelled at the racks of AKM and RPG-7s with rockets. It was melnik¡¯s way of thanking Marcus for letting his grandson have a great time. With the plan to buy as much time for the station to fortify itself as much as it could, Marcus opted to take another operation against the SRT. The arrival of the TAS¡¯s armored vehicles have somewhat evened the equipment disparity between the two clans, forcing the SRT to play more conservatively. As a result, Ylenka and his team had managed to figure out a route they preferred which allowed Marcus to stage a good location for an ambush. Using the new equipment provided they managed to initiate an ambush. They engaged the upcoming TAS convoy and hit the JLTV at the lead. They rained down grenades towards the dismounts followed by destroying a M35 2 and 1/2 ton logistics truck and the trailing up-armored humvee. They failed to destroy the JLTV, which managed to get away through the chaos. Following more attacks the TAS and SRT had established a ceasefire. With the SRT licking its wounds, it shouldn¡¯t have enough fighting force to be a threat to the Songbird Station, but Marcus still kept training the defenders and hardening their strongpoints. They have managed to make it as defensible as they could be. Ylenka and everyone else extend Marcus an offer themselves, for them to set up a guild for themselves. Marcus decides that he would think about it. With some time for himself, Marcus heads back to the ship and meets with Columbus. Columbus offered him another job which needed tunnel fighters. The same role Marcus has been training his goblins to serve. Marcus takes the job but would start later, still with time, Marcus starts looking at his personal quests and decides to finish his own. He takes the goblins he was training and attacks a bandit camp containing his quest item, his father¡¯s guitar. It went well, he retrieved the guitar along with other packages and headed back to Songbird station. He agrees to the creation of the guild, after a talk with his psychologist. They head down to the ship to register only for Ylenka to be accosted by a player serving as the reporter for current game news. Marcus leaves Ylenka and heads to the post office to surrender the other packages he retrieved from the bandit hideout, then to the ship administration to register his guild; Last Man Contingent. They spend some time at a newly expanded Malinka¡¯s restaurant, Marcus takes everyone there to celebrate and reveals one other reason why he kept fighting for the independence of the station; his exclusive access to the tea being sold in the restaurant. There, he gives them his first order, to scout for viable locations for their upcoming guild base. While the rest were on the task. Marcus prepares for his job with Columbus, seeing Demented¡¯s custom pistol, he had the idea of making his own. He sources a rifle from the player run Flea Market and bought weapon parts which he installed and tweaked for his own use. With Stoner¡¯s assistance, Marcus is able to make his own unique weapon with unique effects and most importantly, low chance of dropping on death. CH 53: Buried Secrets With the objectives now clear, Marcus waved the goblins ahead. Shields raised, rifles at the ready, they left the bags where they were and advanced from the Armory towards Data Processing. With the doctor restrained and strapped to a dolly found in the armory, they moved with increased caution as the rest of the massive facility remained uncleared, risking encounters with hostiles hiding in the numerous rooms. They reached the door labeled 251, only to discover that the doctor¡¯s codes and ID didn''t work. To Columbus, a skilled hacker, a locked door was merely a suggestion. He pried open the terminal, plugged his device and delved into the lines of code, searching for backdoors to unlock it, only for it to fail on his first attempt, and then his second. ¡°If you give me enough time and some tools. We can punch through the door.¡± Marcus suggested, as Columbus started his third attempt. ¡°No. We can¡¯t risk a destructive entry triggering something in the facility.¡± Columbus replied, stubbornly trying again. He failed again, and Marcus scratched his head at the man¡¯s uncharacteristic stubbornness. ¡°Look man, how about we check the doctor¡¯s office? Maybe he has something else hidden we could use.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Columbus conceded, stepping away from the panel. ¡°Maybe he has some other access we could exploit.¡± Having familiarity with the facility¡¯s layout, Columbus led the way. Using the Doctor¡¯s credentials, they took the elevator to the 1st level, where the officer¡¯s quarters and administrative offices were located. Doctor Robert Isaac¡¯s office was the largest and most lavishly decorated, with books lining the walls, a grand large table made of rare hardwoods, and photos showing him receiving numerous awards. Marcus studied the photos, comparing the young, brightly smiling man in the photo to the older one tied up and brought with them on a dolly. ¡®Not good at my job, my ass.¡¯ Marcus grumbled to himself. ¡°Besides us and the creature in the containment, it looks like the facility is empty.¡± Columbus said, his fingers tapping away at the doctor¡¯s terminal, eyes darting along the screen as lines of code scrolled over the display and breaking through the locks in place. With nothing else to do, Marcus wandered to the small globe bar in the corner and helped himself to the fine liquor the doctor kept stocked, despite his time underground. He set a snifter on the polished oak table, unconcerned as the drink he poured spilled some into the wood. He watched as the dark amber liquid spread along the surface when a realization struck him. ¡°Can you check if the Doctor made a call before or around the time we arrived?¡± ¡°You think he might have called someone?¡± Columbus asked. ¡°It¡¯d be nice to know if he did, figure out if anyone¡¯s coming to check on him.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Besides, it¡¯d be tough to keep this bar stocked if you¡¯re all alone and bunking near that thing in the lab.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll check.¡± Columbus said, opening a drawer and pulling out an ID with a five-digit code scribbled on a post it note. ¡°Set up a defense either way. It¡¯s unlikely that he didn¡¯t have access to the outside world. Response forces could already be on the way.¡± Marcus picked up the ID and peeked beneath the note, revealing a thoughtful looking man named Jaco Toit, head of security. ¡°What happened to this guy?¡± ¡°As far as I know, he died shortly after the ship crashed atop this facility. I¡¯d bet good money it''s tied to the gas attack that killed half the city.¡± Columbus replied, his eyes fixed on the screen. ¡°Gas attack?¡± Marcus asked. ¡°The official record states that after the ship crashed into the city, it unleashed a deadly gas attack that killed nearly everyone in the immediate vicinity. Ship Captain Mendoza was then captured and executed for the crime.¡± Columbus explained. ¡°And the story stank enough for you to start digging.¡± Marcus said. Columbus nodded. ¡°First, the ship was a converted colony vessel, it lacked the capacity to produce chemical or biological weapons. And it didn¡¯t make sense to sacrifice a ship to take out a single city. All that was brushed aside with claims of the Captain¡¯s madness.¡± Marcus nodded, glancing back at the photo. ¡°What do you think happened to the bodies?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve already seen what they turned into.¡± Columbus said, his gaze dropping, not at the floor, but at the levels below. ¡°Damn.¡± Marcus muttered, picturing that grotesque lump of flesh. ¡°That¡¯s fucked up.¡± ¡°All the more reason we need to get out with this information. Someone is bound to want it kept buried. Columbus replied. ¡°I¡¯ll print you a map.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± Marcus replied, grabbing the map. It showed two entrances to the facility; one via the rails on the 3rd level where they entered, and another at their current level, a long elevator shaft leading to the surface. The facility was designed like an underground pyramid with its top sliced off. The 1st level (office/ administration) had the smallest floor area, followed by the 2nd level (living quarters), the 3rd level (cafeteria and storage), the 4th level (maintenance and support equipment), the 5th level (data processing and armory), the 6th level (labs), and the 7th level (power plant). Following the map, Marcus reached the central lift. Using the card and the attached code, he opened the elevator doors, a faint tune played, breaking the dead silence. Testing it, he radioed Columbus. ¡°Elevator seems to be working.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Roger that. Plan still stands.¡± Columbus replied, his voice crackling. Marcus clicked his tongue, even on the same level, the signal was weak, meaning they¡¯d need another way to communicate between the levels. ¡°What¡¯s up top?¡± Marcus asked, peering down the long hallway leading to the elevator. He could plant mines to secure it, but he¡¯d still need to check the surface in case they need to use the elevator themselves. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but it shouldn¡¯t concern you.¡± Columbus said. ¡°Considering that his place is a gold mine, I¡¯d say we need all hands on deck. Also, we''re eight hours in, how long do you think this would take?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I first thought it¡¯d be straightforward, but¡­¡± Columbus paused. ¡°Do you trust them?¡± ¡°Yeah, I trust them.¡± Marcus replied, ¡°They¡¯re good, reliable, and they can kick some ass. One of them is Ylenka, the one I beat to get this job. Should I call them?¡± Columbus thought about it. ¡°Go ahead.¡± he sighed.
Quest:
Buried secrets. Type: Discovery Owner: Columbus Description: A facility lies buried in the middle of a city, unmarked from any public maps, it is only through your tireless pursuit that it is uncovered. Unfortunately, such secrets rarely lie unguarded. Rewards: ??
¡°Sorry. I¡¯m still being paranoid, even though you¡¯ve proven yourself solid. I should have shared this with you at the beginning to prevent you from going in blind. Feel free to share it with your guild. If you trust them, then so shall I.¡± Marcus grunted. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going up to call them then. Any ideas on how we can fix this interference? I¡¯ll only get worse between levels.¡± ¡°I have an idea. We can simply tap into the facility¡¯s system and use that.¡± Columbus suggested. ¡°Sounds like a plan. Alright. I¡¯m heading up, and I¡¯m taking a squad of goblins with me.¡± Marcus replied, sending Gabs¡¯ squad back to stay with Columbus while taking Fleex¡¯s team along. Buried three hundred meters underground, the elevator ride to the surface took time. It was cramped too. With everyone jostling for space, it made the journey feel longer than it was. With a ding, the doors slid open, and they spilled out. The shield bearer exited first, followed by Marcus, rifle raised and lights on. Ahead stretched an empty hallway with thick pipes snaking overhead. Water dripped, and the scent of mold filled the air. It was dark, his weapon light barely reached the far end. The rest filled out and fanned into position. Silence hung heavy, and Marcus waited for a few minutes, listening past his soft breathing and the blood pulsing in his ears. ¡°Find us a way out.¡± He ordered the goblins, relying on their keen senses to detect fresh air seeping through cracks or holes. If there was an exit from this underground maze, they¡¯d sniff it out. The goblins took point, with Marcus dropping to the rear to watch. With the practice and time he invested in their training, they were shaping into a cohesive squad. Not as polished as the Honest Scribes, but capable of overwhelming an experienced player through sheer numbers. They navigated empty halls, corridors, and stairs until light filtered in from above. Marcus emerged into a ruined building beside the massive scar left by the UNCS Light of the Stars¡¯ crash landing. Dubbed, ¡®the scar¡¯, it carved an easterly line through the city¡¯s heart, starting near the western coast. Following the gouge, he spotted the ship¡¯s colossal thrusters aimed their way, its shattered remains sprawled behind. They were close to the main part of the ship, meaning that his guild, Marcus mulled at the thought, still not accustomed to using it, could respond quickly. But that also meant that there might be players neary. They¡¯d need to keep this operation under wraps as much as possible. The radio¡¯s one kilometer range was useless here. Marcus pulled out a sat phone and dialed Ylenka directly. The phone rang once, twice, before being picked up. ¡°Yes?¡± Ylenka answered. ¡°How is the search going?¡± Marcus asked, referring to their hunt for a potential base in the city. While renting space inside the ship offered safety and access to essential services like stores and the bar where he could find work, it limited direct expansion and flexibility, as using the main entrances allowed their movements to be tracked. ¡°Promising. We got a few candidates and are gearing up to check them.¡± she replied. As it was, Marcus had to give strict guidelines to where they are able to set up: it had to be close to the ship, defensible, and provide direct or quick access to the tunnels below the city. But since they¡¯d just started, with the best places already taken by the other guilds. ¡°Where are you now and who¡¯s with you?¡± ¡°Me and the Honest scribes. Anna and Rex logged in later and will catch up with us in ten minutes. Why? Need something?¡± ¡°This job I got, I¡¯m getting the guild involved. I need help for a mutual friend of ours. It¡¯s a part of his final questline. Things might get hectic soon, and I want every trusted shooter I can get to keep our numbers and firepower up. While we wait and help out, we can loot the facility for anything valuable.¡± Marcus said, grinning. ¡°Trust me, it''s worth it.¡± There was a pause. ¡°Okay. Where are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll send you the coordinates.¡± Marcus replied. Fifteen minutes later, Ylenka contacted him. The goblins had spread out to scout the area. Apart from a few player groups, Malifs, and Grolls passing by, it was quiet. Occasionally, a stray round from the nearby shooting range landed close, ricocheting. ¡°We''re a few minutes out, approaching from the buildings to your south. I have the whole HS with me, along with Anna and Rex, oh and we brought Bo. You mentioned a facility, so he¡¯ll know what¡¯s worth taking.¡± Ylenka radioed. ¡°Copy that.¡± Marcus replied, signalling the nearby goblins to regroup. Looking south, he saw Ylenka¡¯s squad weaving between buildings, staggered and scattered, heading this way. He flicked on his designator to visible laser and marked his position. ¡°Hey, hey. Welcome to the op. It¡¯s not my show, so I had to wait for the green light to call you in.¡± Marcus greeted as they linked up. He glanced at Bo, who¡¯d bought his two goblin assistants. ¡°Feels good to see the sun, huh?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s overrated.¡± Bo quipped, and Marcus chuckled. ¡°So where to?¡± Ylenka asked. ¡°Just down here.¡± Marcus said, leading them back. They reached the elevator, still sitting at their level. With their numbers, the elevator could only take half at a time, requiring at least two trips. ¡°Alright. Two trips. It¡¯s a long ride down, and the elevator needs ID and codes. Ylenka, your team goes first; the goblins will hold the fort up here. Down there, you¡¯ll find Columbus. Get him to score you more IDs and codes to cover more ground and strip the place. It''s still not cleared though, and you can run up on some hostiles. As for me, I¡¯ll be delivering this guy to the ship along with the first load of loot to storage. I¡¯ve already called a taxi service and they should be arriving any minute now. Sound good?¡± Marcus said, inputting the codes and scanning the ID. The doors opened and Ylenka¡¯s group filed in, going down. ¡°Fleex. You got that? You¡¯ll hold the fort while I¡¯m gone.¡± Fleex nodded and looked up the defensive positions by the elevator. Marcus gave the goblins a nod and a smile. He then nudged the still bound Doctor with his foot and grinned. ¡°How about you? Comfortable?¡± Marcus asked. The doctor looked at him with eyes filled with hate, he mumbled something and struggled against his restraints. With the other goblins carrying the doctor up, they arrived near the surface when Marcus could hear sounds of engines coming. Peeking out of the ruined building, he saw the repaired MRAP of the SRT guild dismounting members who fanned out and covered both sides of the street; they entered the buildings, only to come out moments later. It was as if they were looking for something. Shit.