《Gun Meister Online 2》


 All the worlds a stage.

    Shakespeare once wrote that all the world was a stage, and all the men and women merely players. If so, Max considered himself the hero of an action movie. One even Michael Bay would be jealous of. Max might have also recalled that all men have their exits; even the heroes.


    Max was a soldier, one that fought hard, trained harder, and killed from the shadows. There were only two things he loved in this world; vintage muscle cars and high-end blonds. It was o¡¯dark-thirty and he cruising home in a bright yellow El Camino. In two months the car would have to go back into storage because he was due back on deployment. For now, for he would enjoy himself. Max shifted gears, pressed down on the accelerator, and glanced over at his passenger. The underwear model was five years younger with bolt on tits and a plastic giggle. She was easy to please, especially after two martini¡¯s and a panty dropper, which made up for her tittering. The car zipped past another green light and he rolled down the window. Hot summer air washed over his face. The woman¡ªhe couldn¡¯t remember her name¡ªwas still half-drunk and running her manicured finger nails across his thigh. He smiled to himself and decided a few more days couldn¡¯t hurt.


    It was too bad, he thought to himself. The girl was wild between the sheets, but he made it a point not to get attached. Especially to women always looking for a better deal. Max reached over turning the music up so the bass competed with the sound of the cars engine.


    It was good to be back from his last tour, and he hoped the next one was somewhere with tropical islands and sandy beaches. Africa had been a shit hole, and the locals even worse. Really, it had been last mission which left a foul taste in his mouth.


    For a second, he was back in the jungle compound with the smell of death covering everything like a miasma. He shook his head to dispel the memory. The blacktop returned, fresh yellow paint and green lights for almost a mile. A strip mall flew past on his right, and the little hairs on his arms started standing up straight as goosebumps spread across his skin.


    Ahead the light turned green, like the world was opening its stage curtains for him, and he pressed down on accelerator. He zipped through the intersection and headlights in his periphery flashed. Through the dark, a late model electric car struck his driver side without any warning. Three airbags exploded in his face as the muscle car flipped over, and came to a stop upside-down. The driver of the honda¡ªa pudgy faced fuck with a goatee and a nose ring¡ªwas laying in the street.


    That¡¯s why you wear a seatbelt, fuckface. He thought just before the darkness took him.


    ***


    The light approached, just like they always described in the movies. Better still, the pain faded and he was able to look around. Max stood in a small gray room where a man in a suit waited. The other guy was handsome with dark brown eyes and short black hair. Max was disappointed the man lacked the requisite wings or even a halo. He could have dressed up a little. Then again maybe he lacked wings because the creature wasn¡¯t an angel.


    ¡°So, is this heaven or hell?¡± Max asked.


    ¡°Neither, sir. You are still here on earth, however, you may find an answer to that question shortly.


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°You were in a car accident, Mr. Maxwell¡­ Cummings.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s lieutenant, and you got a problem with my name?¡± He asked in a hard voice, one that had frightened many lesser men.


    ¡°No, no. Its just¡­ unusual.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like a porn star¡¯s name, and yeah, I got plenty of shit for it. Suppose that¡¯s why I put on muscle and joined the Navy.¡± There was an awkward pause.


    ¡°Accident, huh?¡± Max asked into the silence.


    ¡°Yes, sorry¡­ Drunk driver.¡±


    ¡°Did they at least get him?


    ¡°I doubt he¡¯s in a position to be jailed. He was cut in half, and died at the scene. You on the other hand, came away mostly in one piece despite being struck in the driver side door.¡±


    ¡°The girl?¡± Max asked feeling a little guilty he hadn¡¯t asked sooner. He might not remember her bloody name, but he still cared enough to see she walked away from that.


    ¡°The passenger in your car has some minor injuries including a broken arm and collar bone,¡± the man offered and Max felt a measure of relief. As an added benefit, he wouldn¡¯t need to give her the ¡®it¡¯s-not-you,¡¯ talk.


    ¡°So what is this?¡± Max asked waving a hand at the empty room.


    ¡°An interview and a consent form wrapped in one. I am an ambulance chaser, of sorts. It¡¯s my job to search for viable test subjects and recruit them to the project. We are experimenting with digital ghosts.¡± The man said with a conspiratorial whisper. Max waited, still unsure what to say.


    ¡°My name is Arther T. Franklin.¡±


    ¡°It seems we both have pretty messed up names.¡± Max said with a snort.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Asked in genuine incomprehension.


    ¡°Any relation to Frankenstein? You know, cause he had a thing for graverobbin too.¡±


    ¡°Ahhh¡­ You know, I never thought of it. I guess I am looking for quality brains for our Frankenstein project.¡±


    ¡°Are you talking about that¡­ brain in a jar thing? What were they called VrTek?¡±


    ¡°Close but no. That project is public and it is still ongoing, but again no. You are currently wearing a dive helmet. It¡¯s how we are speaking right now. The digital transfer will happen with your consent.¡±


    ¡°What part of this makes me a test subject?¡±


    ¡°After your digital conversion, you¡¯ll be sent to our private cloud. Your brain will be removed and placed in a Compressetome.¡±


    ¡°What the heck is that?¡±


    ¡°It a device that makes very thin slices of your brain tissue and scans them into a computer. This creates a physical map of your blood vessels and nerve endings. Your digital memories will be compared to the physical scans. We have made strides in understanding Digitization, however, we still don¡¯t understand the exact process of the transfer. The secondary goal is to find how the brain stores complex information, which in turn, will tell us more about digital ghosts.¡±


    ¡°So I''m going to die?¡±


    The man looked suddenly uncomfortable and toyed the cuff of his business suit. ¡°You¡¯re legs and hips were crushed, and one lung has collapsed. Your other organs appear undamaged, and for us, the brain is most important. The doctors seem pleased your heart is unscathed and you have an AB Negative blood type. They are waiting with baited breath to begin harvesting.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t creepy, not at all.¡± Max drolled.


    ¡°That¡¯s your fault, actually. You are listed as an organ donor, and there isn¡¯t much hope you¡¯ll survive the night. Is there a reason you opted for that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather die than wind up a coma patient. I figured the doc¡¯s wouldn¡¯t try so hard, which I suppose worked. Tell me, Frankenstein, does anyone say no to this little procedure?¡±


    ¡°Most people refuse. At this point they are quite ready to meet their maker.¡±


    ¡°What do I do?¡±


    ¡°Simply state for the record, your name, that you agree to be digitized, and you agree donate your brain to science.¡±


    ¡°I, Maxwell P. Cummings, of reasonably sound mind agree to be digitized and have my brain pureed in your Cuisinart.¡±


    ¡°Thank you¡­ Max. The process will begin shortly. Do you want to watch?¡±


    ¡°My death?¡±


    ¡°There is a camera set up, for the record.¡±


    ¡°Why not, I¡¯ve seen a lot of shit in my life. Do I get popcorn too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we aren¡¯t hooked up to the network. The computer isn¡¯t powerful enough to deliver all five senses.¡± Franklin said with a pained smile.


    A TV screen appeared on a nearby wall, but there was surprisingly little to see. A figure was draped with white fabric on a surgery table. Machines in the corner quietly beeped a slow uneven rhythm. Five people blocked the view and all of them seemed to have scalpels in hand.


    ¡°Mr. Cummings has agreed to the procedure. You may begin.¡± A man off camera said, and the room erupted into motion.


    ¡°Administering 50cc¡¯s of trapezin now,¡± a female nurse said pushing a turkey-baster of a needle into the IV tube. The heart monitor began to slow, and within seconds there was a single flat tone. Max didn¡¯t feel anything, the pain was still being blocked by the dive helmet. He reached down and felt his digital chest, but there was nothing but the sensation of fingers on skin. A man with salt and pepper hair glanced at a clock in the corner.


    ¡°Time of death is 02:46am,¡±


    Vorpal blades went snicker snack as the doctors sliced open what was left of Maxwell P. Cummings. An odd tingle tickled the back of his brains like he was holding his breath for too long. On screen, they began to hack at his ribs with a powered saw. Max had seen his fair share of dead, a consequence of three tours of duty in the worst places on earth, but he was fascinated by the macabre sight. The camera moved a tad closer as the rib cage was pulled open, and the doctor expertly sliced the heart free. Hypoxia was hitting him hard and he struggle to draw in breath. The camera continued to feed the television images, but he was past noticing a kidney disappear into an open ice bucket. One perforated lung went into the trash, but the other they carefully set aside.


    His legs buckled and he sagged to the floor. For the second time that evening darkness enclosed him. He briefly wondered if he¡¯d finally see the pearly gates of heaven or the fiery lakes of hell.


    ***


    The sound of the helicopter was a muted thrum inside the belly of the beast. Aboard the Osprey were sixteen hardened navy seals, three sensor specialists, a pair portable communication arrays, and one tired Lieutenant Maxwell Cummings. He shifted in his seat and glanced at the men in black combat gear and facepaint. Most were checking and rechecking gear, swapping ammo, and relaxing. The specialist nearest him looked nervous, and a little airsick. The man wasn¡¯t under Max¡¯s direct command, and he felt annoyed at being forced to drag them along. This OP was going to be nasty and now he had to babysit the pair of Navy men. He moved on before irritation made it to his face.


    His eyes landed on Master Chief Jessica Wulfe also known as ¡®Hot Fuzz¡¯ for her obsession with trashy romance novels. True to her nature, she was ignoring the bumpy ride and reading something on a tablet. Max could just make out some of the upside down text which included fangs, panting breath, and multiple throbbing erections.


    As if night drops weren¡¯t exciting enough. He thought with a smirk, and forced himself to check on the package. Max leaned over and tugged on the straps holding down the boxes. The two comm-arrays were sixty pounds apiece, and little more than over-sized satellite phones. Two were overkill in his opinion. You could drop one from the helicopter and it would still transmit, but that wasn¡¯t his call. His attention was drawn to Petty Officer Sanders who was looking at him, and the Comm gear with interest.


    Max supposed this was as good a time as any to get the final briefing underway. He pulled himself from his seat and turned to face the crew. Wolfe flicked the tablet off with a dark look, which Max chose to ignore. Apparently she¡¯d just gotten to the juicy part.


    ¡°Our squad will be inserted two kilometers from the target, but the operational directive has changed.¡±


    ¡°I thought we were supposed to execute some south african warlord?¡±


    ¡°We are, but it¡¯s been bumped down to a secondary objective.¡± He replied pulling the mission brief from his pocket. ¡°We are to escort the comm specialists, secure the compound, and wait for them to finish setting up the arrays.¡±


    ¡°Sitting around is a good way to get our asses shot off.¡± Jessica said in husky basso. ¡°Sir,¡± she added after a second. Max pulled the picture attached to the orders and handed it to her.


    ¡°Five years ago, Iba Mugabe, a disillusioned and very corrupt commander of the South African Defense Corp fled arrest along with a hundred of his soldiers and carved out a little slice of the Mala Mala game reserve. The government called off the manhunt after several botched attempts. They expected them to come out on his own.¡± By now the picture had made it¡¯s way down one side of the craft as Seals glanced at the picture, quickly memorized the face, and passed it on.


    ¡°Unfortunately, he turned out to be a better warlord than commander.¡±


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t really sound like our problem.¡± Sanders said passing on the picture. ¡°And what¡¯s up with hardware?¡± He asked added gesturing to the arrays.


    ¡°Mugabe¡¯s changed tactics. He¡¯s given up trying to take over the congo. Six months ago he captured the border town of Mutele and began trucking in server equipment and modified dive pods. Intel believes his people set up a digital ghosting farm.¡±


    ¡°So he just made himself king and god of a private server. I¡¯ve heard a half dozen Asian enclaves did the same thing.¡±


    ¡°Normally the powers that be would agree with you, however, he¡¯s not politely asking the locals to digitize themselves. His remaining soldiers are kidnapping men and women by the hundreds, then forcibly digitizing them in his¡­ paradise.¡± Max said placing a sarcastic twist on the last word.


    ¡°Did he cross over himself?¡± Jessica asked in a voice sharp as knifes.


    ¡°Intelligence says not yet. The facility isn¡¯t connected to the Net, and his people have not cemented their position in the region. They think, Mugabe¡¯s too worried about the South African Army gaining control of the facility.¡±


    ¡°How many tango¡¯s are we talking about?¡±


    ¡°Forty or so guards to keep watch over the facility, but he has almost a hundred men in the surrounding area. We are coming in across the Zimbabwe border and dropping in close to the base. That means a quick in and out¡­ if the specialists can get the job done.¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Rules of Engagement?¡± One of his seals asked.


    ¡°Weapons Free. We are on a time frame, and the trash we find will be his veteran troops.¡± He paused to eye them all and make sure they understood to gravity of the situation. ¡°There are hundreds of people digitized against their will on those severs. You cannot, under any circumstances, damage or destroy the generators or server building. The specialists will come in after we secure the facility and hook up the arrays.¡±


    ¡°This is fucked up. No wonder the South African government handed this off to someone else. The United Nations is still bickering about digital avatar rights.¡± Diego commented halfway down the line.


    ¡°Which is why we are getting this hot potato, unofficially,¡± Max confirmed. It looked like half the men agreed, but it didn¡¯t matter what he thought. This was the mission handed to Max and he intended to complete it.The picture finally made it¡¯s way around to him. Jessica glanced at it, then began tearing Iba Mugabe into little pieces.


    The cockpit door cracked open, and the copilot stuck his head out. ¡°We are twenty minutes north of Mutele. Get ready, Lieutenant.¡±


    The door closed and the Seals pulled their night vision goggles down over their eyes. The lights in the rear bay dimmed to a greenish glow for insertion, and the tension in the bay spiked. Max settled his own nightvision into place, double checked his M4 rifle, and waited with the rest of his squad.


    The night lights changed from green to red and everyone stood. The rotars shifted into a low whine and Max prayed they could get in and out without tripping the alarm. The back ramp of the Ospray opened revealing a dark cloudy sky. Trees, barely discernible in the red light, few past only a few meters below them. Even this far out there was a noticeable smell of death in the air. Jessica nudged him in the side, and he glanced at her hard expression.


    ¡°This is going to be a bad one,¡± she said then added. ¡°I can feel it.¡± Max secretly agreed with her gut feeling, but this was their job. They went into dark places on the ass end of earth and cleaned up the messes monsters left.


    Suddenly the tree¡¯s gave way to a grass clearing, and the craft spun 180 degrees. Barely two clicks away a compound glowed dully in the forest. The Ospray slowed to hover barely three off the ground. Max tapped his radio twice then spoke in a low throaty growl.


    ¡°Safeties off, everyone look lively, Fire Team Alpha left, Bravo right. Charlie advance at speed. Delta stays with the comm arrays.¡±


    ¡°Aww, we gotta babysit the kiddies?¡±


    ¡°Silence on the comms,¡± Jessica snapped with a hiss. ¡°Diego, thanks for volunteering to hump equipment.¡±


    ¡°Fuck,¡± the man muttered as the craft touched down.


    ¡°Go, Go!¡±


    In a perfectly coordinated move, the Seals dropped to the grass and spread out to either side of the ramp. Max followed his troops as the specialists pushed the arrays down the ramp after him. The helicopter blades churned the grass, but otherwise made little noise. Mass graves half the size of a football field had been cut into the soft soil, and the stench filled his nostrils like sickly perfume. Bodies, mostly naked women, were piled haphazardly almost to the lip. One of the specialists stepped from the helicopter, took a look at the scene and wretched. The man¡¯s lunch glowed green in his night vision.


    Max watched his troops fan out in groups of four toward the road. They moved in a fast jog, and he was satisfied to see them so fired up tonight. He had no doubt they saw and smelled the bodies, but everyone save the specialist had kept it together.


    He jogged past a second smaller pit filled with clothed men. He noticed with professional detachment, these had all been executed via a bullet to the head. The night vision helped a little and he could pretend, for a short while, they were sleeping peacefully. Max kept his head turning, forcing himself to scan the horizon for enemies. He took up a position behind Fire Team Charlie as the Ospray lifted into the air. The blades churned the awful stench, and he prayed the smell would force the patrols from the immediate area.


    His forward fire team proceeded down a dirt road, while the specialists began to pick up the comm equipment. After just twenty minutes the warehouses and guard towers of a fenced in compound came into view. Several electric windmills, had been erected atop a small hill. Everyone slowed and began leap frogging from cover to cover.


    Max lifted his M4 and sighted through the Acog at the nearest guard tower. Spot lights lit up the road before the gate, but the dark shape under the eave wasn¡¯t moving. In fact, there wasn¡¯t much moving at all within the compound, and if there were forty people awake, he¡¯d color his nuts pink. He tapped Specialist Richards on the shoulder and pointed at the tower. The sniper nodded moving stealthily up the road, raised the rifle to his shoulder, and scanned the compound.


    After a minute, the sniper returned. ¡°It¡¯s a dummy. No one is in the towers, but they have a dozen infra-red cameras on the fence, so they probably have motion detection. I suggest we avoid the road.¡± He said in a low whisper. The forest pushed in on the right side.


    Max tapped the button at his throat and spoke, ¡°Fire Team Charlie, guard the road here and wait for Delta. Alpha and Bravo enter the forest on the east side.¡±


    Max stepped off the rutted dirty road and under the jungle canopy. He kept one eye on his men, and the other on the suspiciously silent compound. Alpha reached the fence first and started cutting links. A second squaddie held the wire hole open as they crawled inside. Bravo slid in behind them as Max reached the fence line. They¡¯d picked a good spot. Above them two cameras were pointed to the right and left, but Alpha squad had discovered a blind spot.


    Over the radio he heard Wulfe¡¯s hushed voice, ¡°Contact, Two trucks moving up the road.¡± Just what they needed. If they opened up on the truck it would alert everyone in the compound and they were only partially inside.


    ¡°Hold fire,¡± he rasped.


    Headlights danced up the muddy road and the sound of engines soon filled the air. Max grabbed the chain-link fence and held it open for the last member of Fire Team Bravo to enter. Then he forced his way through. At the front gate a military transport and a pickup truck stopped. The pickup idled as a dark skinned man in dirty, mud stained camo jumped from the passenger side. He ran forward and opened the gate for the vehicles.


    Shit, he thought. Only half of his men were in position next to the warehouse, while Bravo team was in the open laying in the low scrub. Max threw himself to the ground and seconds later the headlight beams passed over his head. The pickup full of soldiers pulled in first and six soldiers jumped down. The transport stopped and two men pointed AK¡¯s back into the canvas transport.


    This was the best time to hit them, before the enemies dispersed. Reaching up he pressed his throat mic down and rasped, ¡°Fire.¡±


    The night was shattered by the prattle of a dozen automatic weapons. Max rose a kneeling position and aimed at the pickup driver who¡¯d had the presence of mind to jump back into the seat and start the truck. The M4 bucked against his shoulder as dark holes stitched the passenger side door. The driver jerked then sagged against the steering wheel making the vehicle¡¯s horn blast.


    ¡°Alpha secure the data-center, Bravo the barracks and main building. Charlie, come up and reinforce the front gate.¡±


    ¡°Delta is with us.¡±


    Good news, but he was surprised they¡¯d managed to catch up so quickly. ¡°Fine, Delta move into the compound,¡±


    Six bodies lay on the ground like broken toys, their weapons having never fired a shot. Max got to his feet and crossed the distance to the transport. He grabbed the driver¡¯s hair in his gloved fist and pulled him back against the seat. The horn stopped, so he jogged behind the larger cargo truck. Several people screamed as he aimed his weapon inside. More than a dozen dark skinned faces, tear streaked and marked with abuse, stared back at him. None appeared armed, but he kept his weapon raised because scared people did stupid things. More gunfire sounded from the main house, and the women in the truck screamed again.


    ¡°We found a technician¡ªunarmed¡ªwhile clearing the datacenter.¡±


    Max lowered his rifle marginally and touched his throat mic. ¡°Leave two to guard the servers while the rest double check the perimeter.¡±


    The front gate opened again and Delta squad trudged through with the bulky arrays in tow. He thanked the gods this OP hadn¡¯t gone south, yet. Wolfe stepped out of barracks, a knife in her hand was covered in fresh blood. Her rifle dangled by a single strap as she wiped the blade off on a scrap of something. Normally, he¡¯d glower at the sight, but her expression suggested she was beyond caring right now.


    ¡°Wolfe, get over here and corral these people.¡±


    Despite her expression she sheathed her knife, jogged over, and glanced into back. The women babbled as Jessica pulled her night vision goggles off. That let Max join Alpha squad in the main building. He jogged through the door and past rows of bunk beds. Dead men, still half dressed lay on the floor. The weapons they¡¯d gone for lay in a pile in the center of the room. Max ignored the sight and moved toward three seals applying thermite patches to a reinforced steel door.


    ¡°Fire in the hole!¡± A man called and the group turned away from the blast. He got into Jessica¡¯s vacated position and entered with his M4 raised. A single occupied dive pod dominated the center of the room, but was otherwise empty of threats. They quickly verified the room was clear before Max stepped in front of the pod. Leon and Erick pushed the emergency escape button and the lid lifted free. A black man with the jaundiced physique of a long-term dive junky was blinking bleary eyes into function.


    His mouth opened to usher a command but Max quickly smashed a gloved fist into his jaw. His head rocked back, as Max got a good look at the man. The former command barely resembled the scrawny black man glaring at Max. His face was covered in weeks worth of unmanaged growth, and his breath smelled worse than the mass graves two clicks east. Nutrient packs hung inside the pod intravenously feeding the warlord while a waste hose snaked into Iba¡¯s pants. No, he wasn¡¯t anything like the photo except the eyes glaring at Max. He could feel the commanding power behind them. Long ago this man was feared and respected. Now they only feared him, and sent Max to a job they couldn¡¯t. The two soldiers stepped back as Max reached for his weapon.


    Max mentally tore himself from what he knew was going to happen next. ¡°Hey, Iba!¡± He shouted raising his rifle and pointing it at Iba Mugabe¡¯s head. The man¡¯s eyes twitched in recognition as fear spread over features. The asshole assumed they were going to capture him, but Iba was mistaken as the slack on the trigger tightened.


    Halt this magic memory bus ride, fuckers, he thought as loudly as he could.


    The scene slithered to an eerily silent stop, and he gained control of himself. Max looked around, expecting something to happen. For the scene to change, but the world hung motionless like someone had hit the pause button on his life. Brass shell casings hung in the air as bullets tore apart Iba¡¯s face and head.


    ¡°My mission history is classified. Technically, I have to find and kill you now,¡± he said to empty air.


    A male voice unknown to him filled the space like a god speaking on high. ¡°Cute, Lieutenant. Very cute, but we are a tad higher up the food chain than dragging a warlord from his capsule and executing him. Besides, anything we discover is put into a digital vault. Once your involvement with the project has been completed your time here will be erased.


    ¡°What-the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t get worked up.¡± The official interrupted. ¡°Your memories¡ªup to the crash¡ªwill be left fully intact, but we have to protect the project integrity. You understand, I''m sure.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you¡¯ll just let us volunteers leave. I wondered about that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct, Lieutenant.¡±


    ¡°How much longer am I going to be stuck here playing with the Ghosts of Christmas past?¡±


    ¡°A week, possibly two. It depends on how often you pause the process.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s get slide show started, I have damsels to save and warlords to execute,¡± Max growled back. He did not like this, but it would be over soon.


    ¡°It¡¯s refreshing to work with a professional. Most of the patients take a few hours to collect themselves after this conversation.¡± The voice said and Max snorted.


    ¡°Well, do me a professional courtesy and forget this one.¡± He replied because Op-sec was Op-sec, and he wasn¡¯t about to change now.


    His memories shifted, as they skipped to a random place. The playground he appeared in was a warzone of a different kind. Billy Dawson was teasing Max about his name for the hundredth time that week. He stood, fists clenched in anger, and tears threatening to spill as he fought the urge to split Billy¡¯s lip again. If he was sent to the principle¡¯s office they¡¯d call his parents. His father, upon hearing the news would whip his ass black and blue, so he took it, absorbing the kids malicious insults while the others watched the drama unfolding. Why did he have to be born with such a stupid last name?

 Interwebs

    Max sat up with a jolt, coming awake in an instant, and immediately fell off the bench. His chin and cheek bounced twice on the hard concrete with surprisingly little pain. Even without the pain he lay there, on the ground, stunned by the sight of a river rushing past only a few feet away. Instead of water, packets of information flew past in a constant stream of data. Mixed in were random DNS queries that looked like bobbing buoys. What was left was a mass of clear text emails, messages, and erotic sexts. For several long seconds, he tried to come to grips with the sight. Porcelain white concrete formed a sidewalk stretching off into the distance, and a nearby marble bridge spanned the river. Cyber-shops, online businesses and Internet Portals lined the street on both sides. The noise of pinging bouys mixed with the rushing data to form a low but constant electronic song. Max finally stood, dusting himself off, and took stock. He was not in any pain, thankfully, and what he could see of himself looked normal. He was dressed in a cheap black suit and when he checked the pockets, a blue window opened before him.


    Three of the 64 slots contained items and the first one was a note. He selected it and a white slip of paper appeared in his hand. Someone had scrawled the words ¡®A professional courtesy,¡¯ in a barely legible script. On the backside was a receipt for the Swiss International Online Bank followed by an account and pin number. The total deposit at the bottom was for nine-hundred eighty-two dollars. It was the date on the receipt that caught his attention.


    October 30th, 2051


    He stared at the number as his mind rolled back the last thing he could remember. Speeding down the street on a cool summer night, a flash of light, and a man in suit. Max couldn¡¯t remember his face, but he recalled giving permission to be digitized. Then¡­ nothing, not a single memory rose to the surface after that. If this receipt was to be believed, four months has gone by.


    Although it would be easy to verify the information, that is, if he could find the bank in this strange digital world. He put the note back in his pocket. The inventory window appeared again and he tried to the second item. A small pile of digital coins filled his palm. A single Bitcoin sat heavily next to a chunk of Ethereum, and a smattering of Dogecoins, Ripples, and Tether surrounded it like small change. The last thing in his inventory was a picture of an obituary, his obituary.


    Lieutenant, Maxwell Cummings passed away on October 25th after a 4 month long coma. He was an exemplary Navy serviceman who¡¯s life was tragically cut short by a drunk driver. Max is survived by a distraught mother and father along with two younger siblings.


    He almost laughed at the last line because Max hadn¡¯t spoken to his father in years, and his mother was high on prescription pills most of time. He highly doubted they even knew of the accident. No, several things still didn¡¯t make sense, like the lapse in his memories. There was also no mention of him being digitized in obituary. Instead, they¡¯d said he had been in a coma for four months which was a load of bullshit.


    Behind Max was the entrance to an Italian Cafe. Potted plants, green metal chairs, and large canopied awning sat out under the evening sky. Max, for some reason, had appeared or least woken on the bench outside. The wooden door pushed open at his touch, and he was greeted by the scent of fresh pastries and roasting coffee. He waited for someone to appear, but quickly got bored and slid into an empty seat. A flash of light appeared in the middle of the table with a menu of items.


    He selected an espresso from the list along with something random from the pastry section. They appeared instantly on the table along with a tray of sugar, milk, and honey. He picked up the cup and tested the drink. His taste buds were presented with caffeinated perfection. The only thing he would have liked is if it were a touch hotter. Even still, he didn¡¯t feel any more or less thirsty from the beverage. The only reason he¡¯d ordered the food was to chew on something while he thought. He picked up the pastry and was surprised by how perfect the strawberry filled danish tasted. The filling spilled out across his taste buds like a baked grenade.


    He put it down.


    Did it really matter. He thought dryly. So what he couldn¡¯t remember the last four months? There were longs periods in his childhood he couldn¡¯t remember which was probably for the best. Heck, part of his military career didn¡¯t officially exist, and maybe this was just another example. After all, he was dead.


    Maybe he should contact someone? He immediately disregarded his parents. They¡¯d barely cared when he was alive, or worse, they¡¯d ask him for money. His old friends or possibly squad-mates? Hmmm, they¡¯d actually think he was dead. After all, the obituary hadn¡¯t mentioned his ghosting. It would take time to prove who he was and after all that, what would be the point? They¡¯d still be kicking butt and taking names, while he was just a drunk driving statistic.


    Someone had given Max a clean slate and he¡¯d be a fool to claw at the threads of his former life. The hero of that story was dead, but still¡­ A little part of him wouldn¡¯t let it go, and he began checking the console again. Max discovered he could make calls from this terminal and request a transport. What that transport was, he wasn¡¯t sure, but seconds after he called one a Gondola pulled up front of the cafe. It was made of black walnut wood with a glowing blue line down the side.


    ¡°Huh,¡± he grunted and drained his cup. Leaving the cafe he walked to the edge of river. Ones and zeroes continued to fly but the thin wooden boat continued to bob against the stream.


    A window appeared as he stepped onto the craft asking for a destination and he selected the address for the Swiss bank. However, it only started to move when he slotted a couple of Dogecoins into the box at the rear of the boat. He sank forcefully into the seat as craft shot forward. Bridges and data intersections zipped past in a visual blur. Just when he was getting used to the sensation of movement, the Gondola slowed. It turned down one more intersection before bouncing to a stop next to a squat marble building. He climbed out and the ship took off without him.


    When he tried to enter the building the doors refused to open, and he turned in annoyance looking around. An Asian woman with dark hair and fine features was walking away from a cluster of machines.


    ¡°Excuse me!?¡± He called and the woman paused. She had dark hair and almond eyes with a business suit like his on. She looked him up and down impatiently.


    ¡°Is this place open?¡±


    ¡°Nani? No, wait¡­¡± She said holding up a hand. Something appeared between her fingers and she stuck it into one ear. She looked at him which he took as ascent.


    ¡°Is the bank open?¡± He asked again and the woman stared past him a few seconds.


    ¡°No, it is uhhh¡­ holiday. Use machines.¡± She replied in a clipped Japanese accent. She gestured behind them toward a couple of ATM¡¯s against one wall. It was too bad the woman didn¡¯t speak English well. He might have asked her something else. Especially since this was the first Avatar he¡¯d bumped into. With an exaggerated eye roll, the woman took another device from her inventory and aimed at the river. A Gondola¡ªthis one with an oriental dragon perched at the prow¡ªslid up to the bank and she stepped onto the thin boat.


    ¡°Not especially helpful, but she had a nice ass,¡± he mused turning toward the ATM¡¯s. He double checked for anyone else, but the woman had been the sole Avatar nearby. Max stepped up the first machine, dug the note from his inventory, and carefully entered the information. He selected [Check Balance] and a number matching the receipt popped up.


    ¡°Print Receipt?¡± It asked and he quickly pressed [Yes] partly because he wanted to know what day it was. A slip unfurled from a slim mouth under the screen and he tore it free.


    ______________


    Swiss International Bank


    Date - 10.31.2051, 11:21pm


    Account - ****0231


    Balance - 982.00 USD


    ______________


    Unless this was an elaborate hoax, four months really had elapsed. There was no option to withdraw cash so he logged out of the virtual machine, and shoved both slips of paper into his pocket as he walked away.


    The real question was, what would Max do now? He strolled down the sidewalk passing a Swiss Alps Ski Resort and a couple websites for local restaurants. The language was unfamiliar, so he kept moving as he considered what to do. His old life was over, which meant we was going to have to find something to do with himself. That naturally led the advantages of his new situation. He¡¯d gone from somewhere in Italy to a Zurich time zone, so maybe he could catch a boat back the American part of the Internet. Then he¡¯d have a better idea of his options. Washington was his home state, but apparently the world was open to him. He could bounce across the globe in a couple of seconds. He¡¯d go someplace new, someplace neutral where memories of his past wouldn¡¯t cloud his new life. Silicon Valley was a good choice, and some local news would be a good place to start. If it was 11pm here, then it was¡­


    Max tried to remember how much time difference there was between Switzerland and the West Coast. Eight hours sounded about right, so he figured it was about 2pm there. He picked up his pace, and after about a block managed to locate a portal sign with some English on it. He called another transport which arrived so quickly it almost seemed precognitient. The boat asked for a destination as he boarded.


    ¡°Los Angeles Times,¡± he said and managed to sit before the boat skidded forward into the data stream. It came a new junction where the size of the stream increased. More Avatars were visible on the river, each headed to their own destination, and Max¡¯s gondola slid into place next a dark skinned man with golden dreadlocks. Sitting next to him were two blond super models. They eyed his basic Avatar before snubbing him, and he wished he¡¯d had more time to admire them, but the data stream suddenly ducked into a dark glass tunnel. The ocean water pressed down on the glass tube above him.


    This must be one of the Trans-Atlantic Landlines, he thought. The boat cruised by beluga whales and a great white shark swimming through the dark ocean water. All too soon, the data stream rose again, breaching the waves near the Statue of Liberty. Within seconds the gondola was slipping past a Arizona desert and split towards California. Here the street was made of sun kissed concrete instead of gleaming marble. The boat slowed, altering course towards a squat building of mirrors and television screens. A dozen VR Characters and Avatars like himself were sitting in front of the building which was a good sign. He climbed out of the boat and joined several others in line. Then paid for the paper with some of the spare coins in his inventory. He walked to a stone bench and unfolded the bundle to read the first page.


    {Add something about the IRS tracking crypto currenty wallets.} THen add a note about the skyrocketting prices of bitcoin and other coins. Also remove his flippant use of cheap coins to get around.


    ______________


    Los Angeles Times - October 31st, 2051


    House Bill 512 passes review.


    In a surprising move in the republican majority a controversial house bill passed. This would allow terminally ill patients¡ªexcept those with diseases concerning the brain¡ªto digitize themselves. Religious sects, including the Sons and Daughters for Purity have stated their outrage at the news. Many question the US position on the practice of assisted suicide by digitization.


    Director found Murdered.


    Gabe Newell, former Director for Special Projects at VrTek was found shot dead last week in a South San Fransisco Motel. This happened only hours after authorities sought him for questioning in Russian Espionage. Police refused to comment on the nature of the murder, or the suspicious timing.


    Tensions Increase.


    Chinese and Russian tensions continue to mount as the Russian government continues to bar foreign Denizens from it¡¯s net space. Officials also accuse the Soviet Artificial Service of illegally imprisoning several Chinese Avatars.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Recession Ends, Financial Outlook Good.


    October is the third month the Dow Jones has seen a net increase. Unemployment is down, and the housing market is beginning to show signs of growth. Analysts believe this is the beginning of a new bull market.


    Star Nova Online takes first place in MMO market.


    With competition so great, it¡¯s a market triumph for startup company Skybot Studio¡¯s to snatch the top place in a saturated world of VrMMO¡¯s. Titles such a Nigmus Online, Blood and Pride, Hero Heights, and Samurai Lords have been house hold names for immersive games. Star Nova Online now boasts a player base of over ten million active players, and over half are rumored to be Digital Avatars. Savvy investors point to their proprietary, datashare NPC¡¯s (non-player constructs) for such success. The company has released the following statement.


    ¡°We are proud to bring our idea¡¯s to the world. It is our hope to create a place where everyone can experience a completely new universe. As thanks to our fans, we are offering special discounts for those that wish to join us.¡±


    ____________


    Lots of stuff going on in the real world, he thought dryly. He wasn¡¯t surprised to see China and Russia going at it. They¡¯d been eyeballing each other for years now. The Star Nova Online article peaked his interested as well, especially if so many other Avatars were signing up. Max spent a few minutes scanning the rest of the news but nothing interesting popped out at him. He called another transport, hopped aboard, and sat down.


    ¡°Skybot Studio¡¯s,¡± he said and the boat whisked him down several intersections before stopping at a glass building that stretched around a space elevator. A carbon nano-cable disappeared into the clouds above. He climbed free of the data river for the last time and entered a manicured garden. The scent of roses and honeysuckle filled the air. Birds and small insects flitted between the myriad of plants. Small ponds and hedge mazes dotted the space to his left and right, but a two meter wide stone path cut straight through the grass. He was guided between two glass-fronted office buildings, and toward the elevator.


    Employees¡ªnot all of them human¡ªboarded a waiting platform. Most were dressed in casual clothes but several five meter tall plant creatures shuffled on at the last minute. Two bipedal robots in dark suits talked animatedly, their binary conversation like a 14k baud modem warbling between them.


    There was short sharp siren and a blue forcefield surrounded the platform. Then the entire thing lurched upwards, slowly at first, then faster and faster up the cable. The ground disappeared far below as the platform pierced the clouds. The blue California sky gave way to a cold clear black. Above them, the cable connected to an enormous Halo that circled the earth. Ships of every size and description zipped around the enormous structure. Off to one side, another station shaped like the sword of Damocles floated on solemn sentry duty.


    The halo grew in size, and the platform entered through a secured lock. Max stepped to the side of the platform to watch the enormous doors close around the cable. Finally, they slowed to a stop and the forcefield winked off. The employees immediately bustled off the lift like they had places to be and planets to explode. However, as soon as he stepped onto the mirrored floor a flying bot came toward him.


    ¡°Good Afternoon, Sir or Madam, and welcome to Skybot Studios. Would you like the guided tour?¡± It asked in a chipper robotic voice. Max eyed the drone as it bobbed expectantly a few feet away. The top was a flat screen displaying a simple cartoonish face. Under this was a set of small speakers and two thin pincer like arms. The thing flew by two small rotors connected to the base, which gave off a soft hum.


    ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°We are in the Main Portal for Skybot Studios. Here you can manage your accounts, purchase subscriptions, buy in game items, or seek GM assistance.¡±


    ¡°Are you interested in the tour?¡± It asked in a cheerful curiosity.


    ¡°Sure,¡±


    The bot let out an excited chirp, spun once, and floated towards a set of long glass windows. ¡°Star Nova Online is set in a fictional universe with a randomly generated seed. Players may choose between four different factions, but there are many alien races fighting for dominion over the stars.¡± The robot said stopping by the window and gestured outside with a flat metal palm. Several large ships floated in the dock, and Max could see battle damage on at least two of them. Workers were currently crawling along the spaceship¡¯s hull with welders and spare parts. Judging by their scale the ship had to be about three-hundred meters long which would make it about the size of a naval cruiser.


    ¡°Players may take on any role be it miner, industrial magnate, warship captain or¡­ pirate lord.¡± The robot said conspiratorially. It winked at him twice and nudged his shoulder. About thirty meters away a door near the concorse opened and the distinctive rattle of gunfire reached Max¡¯s ears. It was a sound as familiar as his own heartbeat and he turned in it¡¯s direction.


    Small caliber submachine gun, he thought to himself. A tall dark skinned man passed through the door which closed after him, and cut off the sound of combat.


    ¡°The races available are¡ª¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s through there?¡± He asked pointing towards the side door. The robot paused turning toward him and it¡¯s eyes tracked his arm.


    ¡°Oh, that is the storefront for Gun Meister Online,¡± It said dismissively. Max didn¡¯t wait for an invitation. He marched passed a group of short furry marsupials in black leather toward the side door. The floating bot trailed Max, making noises.


    Inside was an armory crossed with a seedy dive bar. Hanging on the walls were firearm schematics and grainy polaroids of smiling people. He approached the bar which was made of tempered glass. Under the glass were a variety of pistols, grenades, and a scattering of loose bullets. Nobody was in evidence so he sank onto an empty stool. A massive television hung on the wall opposite and it was from here the sound was coming.


    A woman¡ªbarely out of her teens with dark grey hair¡ªcrouched next a bullet riddled pillar. She wore a dark blue jacket with the hood drawn over her head, and a custom painted HnK UMP was clutched in her hands. A monsoon was pissing rain onto a bombed out street which seriously hindering visibility. Max hunched forward, putting his elbows on the bar becoming absorbed. Even though the girl looked young her orange colored eyes scanned the street like a seasoned soldier. Rain pattered off every surface filling the air with a constant sound of drumming.


    Slowly she drew a magazine from a thigh pouch and reloaded her weapon. Then crept two pillars forward toward the street. The dead body of a large man lay just on the other side. Hanging from his chest bandoleer were three smoke grenades. The woman tugged the first free which popped the pin out, and tossed it into the street. After a few seconds, a cloud of grey smoke began to spew, and gunfire erupted from the second story building on the opposite side. Un-aimed fire tore through the rain chewing up concrete and asphalt. The girl continued to kneel against the pillar, and tossed two more of the grenades onto the street. Then she dragged the heavy corpse through the smoke.


    More gunfire shattered the night as the camera tried to follow the woman¡¯s progress through the haze. Almost a minute passed before the rain and wind carried enough of the smoke away to see through. The barely visible corpse of a large man lay in the street. A figure covered in gray strips stepped up to the window. He leaned out aiming down at the man in the street. That¡¯s when the woman fired from across the street. Rounds tore apart his chest tracing a line up to his right shoulder. The weapon he held dropped to the wet concrete below as he sagged in the broken window.


    ¡°Oh, we have a customer. Sorry, I just came on shift and didn¡¯t see anyone here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you work since it¡¯s a holiday,¡± Max replied.


    ¡°Thank you, but I¡¯m a Non-Player Construct. It tickles my fancy whenever someone makes that mistake.¡± She said sliding behind the bar. The woman was uncommonly beautiful with long lavender colored hair. She had deep blue eyes like sparkling sapphires and a precocious smile. It must have a battle to squeeze herself into those tight fitting jeans and a black tanktop. Her arms were bare showing off a collection of flowery tattoos.


    ¡°You¡¯re an AI?¡±


    ¡°Not in the strict definition of the word, but some people still use it,¡± She replied with a smile.


    ¡°You serve drinks too?¡± Max asked letting his eyes drift over her body again.


    ¡°That we do! It¡¯s free, so pick any poison you like,¡± she said pulling a coaster out and dropping it onto the bar.


    ¡°Whiskey Sour and some advice.¡± He said leaning forward again and putting his elbows on the glass. The woman pulled glass free for a stack and filled it with ice, two shots of whiskey, lime juice and drizzle of syrup. The even dropped a lime twist on top for effect before pushing the drink towards him.


    ¡°What life advice can this simple bargirl drop on you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to find something to do,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°Just got turned?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Turned?¡±


    ¡°Crossed over, zapped, digitized. I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but freshly made Avatars have a way looking at everything like a newborn baby.¡± She said pointing at his untouched glass. ¡°Drink,¡± she commanded as she put the bottles back. Max picked up the drink examining the greenish concoction. The lime slice had worked its way between the ice and was sitting on the bottom. He drank half feeling the alchohal burn the back of his throat. His stomach grew hot, but he set the rest on the bar.


    ¡°This won¡¯t get me drunk, will it?¡±


    ¡°Not hardly, but they¡¯re still tasty.¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡± He asked pointing up at the screen. The girl was gone and the scene had changed over to a firefight in a thick forest.


    ¡°This is Gun Meister.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here in on star base?¡±


    ¡°The company wants to push their flagship game. Star Nova is doing quite well and they want to impress visitors, so our little cantina was tucked off into one corner.¡±


    ¡°Are you interested in joining?¡± She asked after a moments pause.


    ¡°What¡¯s it about?¡±


    ¡°Individual and small squads take part in death matches. The better you do the higher your rank increases, and the more guns you can register with. You¡¯re lucky, actually. There¡¯s a special event taking space for Halloween. It¡¯s frightfully fun.¡± She said in a spooky voice. Max polished off the second half of his Whiskey Sour, then picked out the lime slice and sucked on the tart fruit.


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s free to join and you get thirty days before you pay anything. Afterward, it depends on what your willing to invest. There are several packages from monthly up to a lifetime membership. You¡¯ll have to add a credit card or bank account, but you¡¯ll be warned a few days before your time is up.¡±


    ¡°Thirty days will give me enough time to figure something out,¡± he mused aloud.


    The woman drew a thick tablet out from behind the bar and set it down. ¡°Let me help you create an account.¡± She said and pushed the it toward him. While he worked on an account she fixed him another Whiskey Sour. He added the bank information from his receipt and an old email address. Afterward she handed him a small flat device which looked similar to the one the woman at the bank had. It was about three inches by four inches.


    ¡°This will let you connect to the game when you¡¯re in the Skybot Portal. Outside, it¡¯ll call a transport that will take you the login servers. If you lose it, you can come back here to request another.¡±


    Max drained his glass. ¡°Thanks, so uh¡­ do you accepts tips?¡±


    ¡°I accept all manor of sweet nothings,¡± She replied with a wink. Max pressed the button and the world dissolved around him. The bar faded into black as the music whispered into stuttering silence.

 Character Creation

    Gun Meister Online loading¡­


    Logging into server¡­


    New Player Detected¡­


    Initiating Character Creation¡­


    Hexititilating Pixelixelgons¡­


    Max¡¯s vision was momentarily locked as his vision cleared. He stood before an infant floating within a long glass tube of bluish-green liquid. Chrome arms holding needles, scalpels, and other mysterious surgical tools hung like an impatient torturer.


    With a snap he could control his head once again, and he glanced around. Surrounding him was a gleaming white laboratory of plastic and polished tile. The same blue liquid filled the tubes along each side of the room, and below him, a thick glass floor separated Max from a drop into oblivion. Countless more unborn children waited in stasis chambers.


    A small display unfolded in the corner of his vision and Max returned his gaze to the child waiting inside the cloning tube. Four icons slid across the window bouncing against each other. A symbol for male and female sat side by side on an opaque white box. The third was a combination of both genders, and the last an empty circle. For a few seconds he waited for anything else to happen, then reached forward and touched Male.


    Max was a sixth generation American, but his family initial hailed from the toe of the Sicilian boot. Out of ancestral respect he selected a Caucasian with European features. The preset male was a narrow faced dark haired Italian, and he immediately began to hack the handsome bastard apart. The chin, cheeks and nose he widened until the male looked more like an ancient Neanderthal. While he continued to make changes, needles filled with glowing liquid slid into the infant. Max paused to watch the small body slowly morphed in response. He left the hair charcoal black but changed his eye color to a dark forest green. He was no artist, and had no mirror, but it came out close enough to his original features. Satisfied with his efforts he touched the accept button.


    Bubbles immediately filled the tube from below. Dark hair blossomed like wild grass across the infants scalp as it¡¯s arms and legs lengthened. In less than a minute, the baby transformed into a gangly young boy. Another window slid into view, which was accompanied by a female voice.


    "Please select your character¡¯s statistics, you have five points which will never increase, so you must decide carefully on how to distribute them. Later you may reset your statistics for a heavy credit cost." Three categories appeared, and it continued after a second. "Strength determines carrying capacity, and helps with recoil control. Agility affects your movement speed. Endurance determines your stamina pool and adds additional health. Each stat starts with one point, and are capped at four. Spend your extra five points carefully.¡±


    Without hesitation he maxed out the strength score, which brought it up to four points. On the right side of his screen the boy grew to over six feet tall with arms and legs like tree trunks. He could push the sliders around and make the character even taller, but six-foot-two was the shortest it would let him be. It seemed that strength also affected the characters natural body build.


    That left him with two stat points, and for a minute he waffled between agility and endurance. The extra speed would be useful, but the extra stamina and health seemed like a better option. Of course he could just split the difference, but Max was never one to compromise. Finally, he pushed the Endurance slider up to three points and hit accept.


    [Strength - ¦¯¦¯¦¯¦¯]


    [Agility - ¦¯...]


    [Endurance - ¦¯¦¯¦¯.]


    Max confirmed his decision, and the cylinder churned with bubbles a second time. Soon his vision shifted, twisting around and falling into the tall tube. Bubbles and blue amniotic fluid filled his vision, but the viscous fluid quickly drained into holes in the floor. The glass case cracked open with a hiss of escaping steam, and a chill slid across his newborn body like the touch of a fall breeze. Max stepped out of the tube onto a thick rubber mat, and he took a second to admire himself.


    The Seals did not slack, and he could run a 5k without warning, but the muscles on this new body put his old to shame. He closed his right fist and flexed a steroid enhanced bicep. Next to him sat a table of folded towels and a second with cloth bathrobes. Max spent several minutes cleaning the translucent blue fluid off. As he did, another genderless embryo slid into the tube behind him. Windows blossomed across the surface and the surgical arms worked as a new character was created. Max pulled a cotton bathrobe on over his naked frame, then stalked towards the only door in the room.


    Just inside was a man wearing a black pinstripe suit and a pumpkin on his head. Behind him was a locker room covered in glowing green mist, and the sound of witches cackling. Max carefully stepped inside.


    ¡°Happy Halloween, and welcome to Gun Meister Online! You joined at an excellent time. I am Pumpkin Jack, your guide for this part of character creation.¡± The man said enthusiastically. ¡°Would you like to take part in the unique event? Monsters and terrors await to pounce upon you from the shadows. Normally, you¡¯d be able to pick a starting weapon and begin learning the game. However, if you brave the ¡®House of Horrors¡¯ you might gain something special.¡±


    ¡°The vixen at the bar mentioned the event. Sure, I''m game.¡±


    ¡°Excellent choice! Why don¡¯t we start by getting dressed? In the lockers are uniforms for new players. You have a extra-large frame, so I suggest the ones to your left. Max opened the nearest locker. Inside was black cotton boxers, a bland gray military uniform, and a set wool socks. Under these sat a pair of black combat boots. Max pulled his robe off and quickly dressed. The guide spoke as Max finished tying his shoelaces.


    ¡°In Gun Meister, there is no inventory system, so everything must be worn. You will have to carry weapons, ammo, armor, and grenades into battle. Winning matches, killing enemies, and surviving will earn you credits. These credits can be used to purchase most items in the game except weapons." His confusion must have been evident because pumpkin head quickly added. ¡°Weapons are NPC¡¯s who can take human shape. I would gladly show you, but tonight¡¯s event makes that a tad¡­ dangerous.¡±


    ¡°So, is it trick or treat time?¡±


    ¡°Yes, further instructions will take place during the trip over.¡± Pumpkin-head replied gesturing towards a far door. Max pushed it open and stepped out onto the second floor veranda of a glass fronted lobby. The lights were out and the only illumination came from a larger-than-life blood moon. Bloody gore covered barricades had been hastily erected against the glass windows. Below him, a crowd of uniformed men and women surrounded an armored bus. Eyes warily watched street just beyond as shadowy figures darted back and forth.


    ¡°Good, the bus to the armory hasn¡¯t left yet. Take the stairs to your left and join the others. I have to meet our newest victim.¡± Jack said with delightful menace. The door to the locker room closed, so Max walked quickly towards the stairs. He¡¯d just reached the ground floor when a blood curdling scream stopped him cold. Something slammed into the barricade and shook the entire floor. Something quite big. His pulse quickened and he itched to hold a weapon in his hands.


    Max walked into the cluster of players, all of them dressed in a bland gray uniform, as they laughed nervously. After a few seconds, they went back to talking in low whispers. He walked up to an old metro bus covered in spiked steel plates. Sharpened metal scrap had been welded to the wheel hubs, and barb wire covered the front of the cab. Standing by the door was a zombie. At least Max hoped he was because half its face was missing. Everything from his left eye to his left ear was a decayed mass of bone and cartilage.


    ¡°That¡¯s it! Twenty lost souls!¡± The dead man said. He waved a megaphone over his head, then pointed it at the group of players. ¡°Welcome to the Dead Man¡¯s Ferry,¡± he added gesturing grandly to the armored bus. Max got into line behind two girls as everyone quickly climbed aboard. Both had long blond hair and fine elfin features. The first turned to him with a beatific smile.


    ¡°Hello!¡±


    ¡°Hi there,¡± he replied letting his gaze roam over both. One was several inches shorter with the legs of an athletic runner. The other had bright green hair and body more accustomed to swimming. Neither stood out as beautiful, but he smiled at them non-the-less.


    ¡°Are you excited?¡±


    ¡°I sure am, I love scary movies.¡± He replied just before something outside screamed again. Both women tittered nervously again.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Destiny,¡± the shorter one said holding out a hand.


    ¡°Max,¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided on a name,¡± the second added but shook his hand next.


    ¡°A friend of ours suggested we try this.¡±


    ¡°I dunno, It¡¯s looks so scary and the Guide said there aren¡¯t any levels. I kind of like Nigmus more.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a pansy. Halloween is only for tonight. Richard said they¡¯re running tons of events like this, so we¡¯re bound to find something good. Besides, If you don¡¯t like it, we can try Star Nova instead.¡±


    Both girls stopped at the top of the stairs and squealed in fright. The Grim Reaper sat in the drivers seat wearing a tattered black robe. Black oily smoke poured from every tear and opening. His soulless empty eyes turned toward them from under a heavy hood. It¡¯s gaze made the shadows nearby lengthen, and the women backed into him trying to escape. Max snorted, grabbed both girls from behind and shoved toward isle.


    They fought him in terror and he was forced to pick up both women. Max laughed and carried the squealing blonds down the aisle. He was liking his new body and the prodigious amount of strength it gave him. At first empty seat, he dumped both into and sat on the opposite side. They glared at him before bolting for the door, but the zombie with the megaphone entered the bus last. He grinned at them with half his face and they backed away.


    The other players jeered the girls as they scrambled back into their empty seats. Max glanced back down the aisle at the sea of faces. Most we male, and other than the two girls there was a single androgynous person staring out of the armored windows.


    At the front of the bus the megaphone crackled and everyone turned their attention on the dead zombie. ¡°We are going to head to the Armory, but before we head out I¡¯ll explain tonights event.¡±


    ¡°Unregistered weapons have been turned into monsters. Instead of brains, they are looking for Meisters with open contract slots. You little chicks smell like ambrosia to them right now, which is why we are taking you to the house of horrors in this.¡± The zombie said smashing a rotting hand on the buses closest support. The bus started with a cantankerous diesel cough. Creatures of every description screamed with delight as the barricade slid aside. They leapt upon the armored bus as it cleared the lobby¡¯s lights. Next to Max a fist sized dent smashed into the armored plate. Something crashed into the front cab clawing at the ballistic glass, and the women opposite Max screamed again.


    Their zombie guide seemed genuinely amused by the display. By the second street corner the bus was mobbed by screaming monsters¡ªall of them intent on the juicy flesh inside. Several clawed hands burst through the thinner plates, and Max was forced away from the windows. They scrabbled for anything to latch onto. One stupid bastard tried to grab a clawed hand. His wrist and arm were seized and dragged through the hole in the bus. The man let out a sharp pained screamed falling back into the isle. What was left was a bloody stump with some stringy muscle attached. As he died the Zombie guide stepped forward and raised his bullhorn. It gave off a short blast which caught everyones attention.


    ¡°The monsters you encounter will be pistols, with few exceptions. They will seek to kill or contract with you¡ªpossibly at the same time. Hidden within the maze of rooms are five golden eggs. Should you get one¡ªfat chance.¡± The zombie said coughing into his first. From his back pocket he produced a battered whiskey flask and chugged it. Brown liquid seeped out of several holes in the corpse¡¯s stomach and stained and already dirty shirt. He capping the bottle and put it away.


    ¡°Also, if you survive the night you¡¯ll gain a unique weapon, but dawn is¡ª¡± He added then paused to check a cracked wrist watch. ¡°Nine hours, and some change away.¡±


    Max glanced at the rest of the players. At the mention of a special prize they all seemed to perk up, but at that moment the assault on the metro renewed. More creatures clawed at the roof and reached in through the many rents. The bus swerved into a parking lot, and the headlights illuminated a hundred rusty and disused cars. They approached an ungrounded garage and the monsters outside let out angry cries before jumping free. The metro came to a stop within a bright pool of light set up several work-lights.


    ¡°Get into the elevator. It will take you to the fifth floor. You must survive with luck, intelligence, and courage. Light is your friend, use it to your advantage. Do not leave the building unless you register with a weapon.¡±


    ¡°Everyone clear on what to do?¡± The zombie asked and Max nodded along with everyone else.


    ¡°Have a great Halloween!¡± He exclaimed in satisfaction, then took a snub-nosed .38 from his pocket, and pushed the muzzle into his mouth. A second later, neon green brains and black blood decorated the bus¡¯s ceiling. Everyone stared at the corpse as it landed in the aisle. Soon the revolver vanished in a flash of light. In the following silence, Death opened the bus¡¯s door.


    The first few players moved, finally, and everyone began to file off the bus. They stood in the circle of light wondering what to do.


    ¡°Can I have your scythe?¡± Max asked as he came abrest of the Reaper. A skull turned to face him and empty eyes stared at him for a few seconds. Then a bony skeletal hand¡ªfinger joints creaking¡ªpointed past him to the elevators.


    Taking the hint he climbed from the bus and glanced around. The space was pitch black except a few working lights immediately around the elevator. The buses headlights just barely illuminated a half dozen wrecked cars. Something howled just outside the garage and smashed dents into the rolling door. Claws raked the metal, which let in enough light to see dozens of monsters silently waiting in the shadows. The bus was surrounded by the creatures. Behind him the two women clutched each other and shuffled down the steps. Max was no fool and made for the illuminated elevator just as the vehicle started back up. As soon as the last player stepped down, the bus cranked into gear with a groan and pitched about towards the exit. Destiny, behind him screamed in terror, and Max turned. It¡¯s headlights splashed across the monsters creeping closer and they recoiled briefly from the brilliant beams.


    No pissing around tonight, he thought and ran for the elevator.


    From the darkness, a shadowy hand grabbed Destiny¡¯s slender shoulder and dragged her to the ground. Her friend, eyes wide with fright, quickly sprinted past Max toward the lights. A male player stood next to the control panel smashing floor buttons, but thankfully, someone else stood in the doorway and prevented the doors from closing. Max churned his legs as claws snatched at his clothing missing him by millimeters. Something covered in dark fur slid from the shadows and tried to tackle his legs. Heart pumping, he roared his defiance lowered his body like a running back and shouldered past the furry female creature and into elevator. It closed after him with a jaunty, out of character ding and rose into the building¡¯s interior.


    Well, tonight was going to prove interesting, Max thought trying to catch his breath. Now he understood why agility was so important. His single point in the stat had almost gotten him killed before the event even began. Of the twenty people on the bus only sixteen had made it to the elevator.


    ¡°Thanks for holding the door,¡± Max growled giving the evil eye to the bald man still smashing elevator buttons. He returned Max¡¯s glare with an unapologetic intensity. Their stand off was broken by a dark haired boy standing by the doors.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it for you,¡± the second man said stepping between them. ¡°The more people for them to chase the better chance I have to get to the lower floors.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done this already?¡± Another player asked.


    ¡°Enough to know there isn¡¯t a golden egg on the fifth floor, and further down you get, the more dangerous the encounters.¡±


    ¡°What happened to Destiny?¡± The blond girl asked from the rear of the elevator. She cowere


    ¡°Most likely she¡¯s got a new weapon. If they killed her, she¡¯ll respawn back at the character creation lobby and have to take the bus back over.¡±


    ¡°What should we expect?¡±


    ¡°The fifth floor is a maze of jumbled apartments. Bedrooms connect directly to one another, and dead ends are common. Aside from that, you¡¯re on your own.¡± The man said with a short shrug.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just follow you then,¡± a bald player suggested. The second man¡¯s reply with a small vindictive smile. Further conversation was cut short as the elevator opened onto a dark hallway with a chirpy little ding. Now the real games would start.

 House of Horrors

    A hallway paneled in rich, dark wood and red carpet extended from the open elevator doors. A single lightbulb halfway down stuttered erratically which gave just enough light to illuminate the bricked up wall. ¡®Abandon hope, all ye who enter here,'' was painted across the surface in fresh blood. For a pregnant, uncomfortable moment no one moved. As if to prove himself, the bald man walked out first followed nervously by the others. Almost everyone picked a random door along the hallway and pressed inside. Destiny''s friend, the un-named blond was sitting at the back of the elevator with her knees against her chest.


    "You''re not going?" Max asked, and the girl shook her head refusing to look up. "If the elevator goes back to the garage, the monsters will be there." He waited for a few seconds then stepped out into the hallway, and the doors closed behind him. The elevator dinged again, and Max could hear it descend below. He seriously doubted the girl would continue to play after tonight.


    He was startled by a scream, and the door on his right side smashed open. A man¡ªthe bald bastard¡ªsprinted into the hallway and across the hall. The door refused to open for him, and he turned to face his attacker. Hot on his heels was a short woman covered in nothing but fresh blood and carrying a kitchen knife in one hand.


    "What''s my name?" She asked.


    "How the fuck should I¡ª" his words cut off as the knife drove into his chest. He grabbed the girl''s arm in an attempt to wrest the weapon away, but the fresh blood covering her skin made it impossible to find purchase. Fat fingers scrambling, the bald man gasped and grunted in pain but couldn''t stop her. He resorted to punching her, but his fists sailed through her head as if she were a phantom. Inch by inch the steel knife sank in while the girl continued to ask, "What''s my name?"


    The sight paralyzed Even Max as blood gurgled for working lips. Finally, she yanked the blade free and stood over the corpse as it slid to the floor. When the girl turned toward him, he backed into the closed elevator doors. Her smile was childlike as she glided forward across the red carpet.


    "What''s my name?" She asked holding the knife up.


    The girl repeated the question moving closer and raised the knife up to eye level. Fresh blood dripped onto the carpet in fat sticky blobs. Any second now she''d grow bored, and all his training wouldn''t do him a damn bit of good if he couldn''t touch the ghost. The third time she asked it clicked, and he knew who this was.


    "Mm¡­ Mary," he stuttered¡ªjust a little.


    "Aww, you''ve heard of me?" she asked in obvious disappointment. The knife lowered and the blood covered girl pouted in annoyance. Max slowly relaxed from the fighting stance he''d unconsciously taken.


    "I think every child over the age of six has heard about Bloody Mary. Some of us were even brave enough to try it."


    "I suppose it is a bit obvious," she said glancing down at her naked, blood-drenched torso. "You wanna register with me?"


    "Sorry, blood''s a big turn off, but the others went in that direction," he said waving in the general direction of the several doors. Mary smiled and used the tip of her knife to salute him, then stepped into the second door on the left.


    Max decided to avoid Bloody Mary, in case she changed her mind, and the right-hand door was still open slightly. Just inside was a massive bathroom. A male body lay half in the shower and covered with the torn curtain. Near the door, blood leaked from a dozen cracks in the mirror and into an overfilled sink. Crimson lipstick was used to write, ¡®Redrum'' three times across the surface. Max pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out into an empty studio apartment. It was a single large space filled with leather furniture. Static filled the air from a television hissing and popping in one corner.


    He was halfway across the room when a noise distracted him. A thin female face looked out at him from within the digital snow. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as pale hands pressed on the inside like the ghost was tearing out of melting glass.


    Nope, nope, nope, he thought dashing for the closest landing and hit the door at a dead run. Max had no intention of waiting for that to crawl free. The new corridor quickly ended in two doors and an open stairwell. Behind him, a female scream tore through the air, as the ghost passed through the intermediate wall. Her white hair danced on a non-existent wind as she advanced flew toward him with claws raised. Max bounded through the stairwell door, slamming it¡ªfor the little good it would do. Then sprinted down the stairs three at a time. Something crashed above, and another blood-curdling scream filled the stairwell. A ghostly woman with long snow-white hair crawl over the railing and along the ceiling towards him.


    Max made three or four random turns, and the ghost chased him directly through the walls. Eventually, he noticed the spirit had stopped following him, and he found himself all alone. He watched the walls and corridor behind him, but no apparition appeared.


    "You have passed the deadly maze, and avoided the banshee''s gaze," A low female voice said from behind him. Max just managed not to scream as he spun around. Twenty away was an enormous monster perched upon a flat pedestal. He''d taken the thing for one of many statues sprinkled around.


    The creature had black fur and a set of middle-eastern facial features. Her pupils were an odd, but arresting mix of light green and purple. A mass of dark freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. The creature''s torso was cast with caramel skin covered in a collection of golden necklaces providing some modesty for her bare chest. Black eagle wings stuck out her back, and a long tail swished behind her. Thick, silky fur covered her enormous paws and hind feet, and it perched on a pillar overlooking a rope bridge. Max saw that the elevator doors had been lodged open, but the monster bared his passage across.


    The monster, a sphinx if his guess was right, crouched and place her narrow, noble chin on both paws. Those piercing eyes tracked him as she spoke in rhyme with a low, lilting middle-eastern accent.


    "Answer me the riddles three,


    so pass the bridge hazard free.


    Three questions you may ask,


    but answer wrong and the pit be cast."


    There was no way he''d be able to head back through that maze of corridors. He''d been lucky to lose the ghost the first time. Besides, it had given him the creeps. His only way forward was through this monster, so he stepped closer. She moved her head tracking him with her bi-colored eyes.


    "What walks on four legs in the morning,


    Two in the afternoon,


    And three in the evening."


    Too easy, he thought. That riddle was so classic it might as well be a freebie.


    "It''s Man. He crawls on four legs as a baby, two as an adult, and uses a cane as an old man." Max said quickly. The sphinx''s tail swished behind her, but she only asked her next riddle in response.


    "Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame.


    Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess."


    "A candle," he said feeling his sense of optimism growing. This was way easier than he expected, especially since the ghost maze had almost gotten him.


    "Two riddles you have answered, three questions unasked. Let us hope that your luck remains steadfast." The dark-skinned Sphinx said in a low growl.


    "My owner hates the sight of me and keeps me locked inside. Kind men give me away, but evil men take me from others. What am I?" She asked.


    Hmmm, Ok this one was much harder. He thought as the riddle stumped him. An answer didn''t immediately present itself. The sphinx noticed his hesitation and rose onto it''s haunches, expecting violence.


    "Is it bigger than a dog?"


    "It is much smaller than you think and unsatisfying to drink." The Sphinx said, and Max put one hand over his mouth. Now he had a better inkling about what this was, but he had to make sure. One more question would guarantee his answer.


    "What color is it?"


    "It is red, unless dead."


    "It¡¯s blood, has to be," he answered confidently, and the Sphinx growled. Then lowered itself to the plinth and stared at him with those glowing eyes.


    "The test you have bested, now pass the bridge unmolested." The dark Sphinx complained and shifted her bulk to allow him access.


    "You said I had three questions, so I want to ask one more thing." He said still keeping out of easy reach. The sphinx turned those piercing eyes on him again, and her tail thrashed an intense few seconds.


    "Cheeky man you speak true, ask your question, and I''ll answer you."


    "Where is the closest golden egg?"


    "Right and down you should go, do not dally or walk too slow." The creature said, and Max trotted past the Sphinx and toward the bridge. Two ropes ran across an open elevator shaft along with a handful of rotting blanks. A couple of floors down razor-sharp spikes and broken bodies filled the small space. Before he could cross, a black-furred paw struck his chest, and he was forced to halt abruptly. Thick fuzzy knuckles slid up his chest making him look up into the sphinx''s eyes.


    "Many say that I have much pride,


    but I chose my master when satisfied.


    Brave of heart and quick of mind,


    I sense in you a man great in time,


    bow to me and I''ll mark you mine."


    Usually, he was fan of ditsy blonds and easy girls. However, the sphinx''s Arabic features¡ªespecially her luminous eyes¡ªwere genuinely arresting. Plus it was also the first creature that hadn''t tried to kill him outright. For that, he would at least indulge her. It took him more than a minute to cobbled the rhyme together in his mind, and no one would ever accuse of him being a poet, but he decided to play her word game.


    "My fate, it seems, is not my own, the path I walk is strangely sown.If you and I were to meet, and my deeds of fame are replete, then our bargain here be complete." He said somehow keeping himself from laughing at the end.


    Enormous mismatched eyes danced, and he saw them flashing with an inner light. The massive black furred sphinx lowered its muzzle toward him. Its mouth opened revealing a long row of razor sharp teeth, and he was half sure his attempt at poetic commentary would backfire. The Sphinx could probably bite his head clean off if it wanted. Instead, her nose pressed to side of his neck and she drank in the aroma of his scent. Marking him in her memories to find at a later time. Then she leaned back settling on her back paws.


    Max trotted past the Sphinx and toward the bridge. Two ropes ran across an open elevator shaft along with a handful of rotting blanks. A couple of floors down razor-sharp spikes and broken bodies filled the small space. At the intersection, he turned right and found the stairwell. This one was smaller and made of poured concrete and covered in spider webs. Cocoons suspiciously shaped like human figures hung in open space.


    Just¡­ great, spiders were his one major phobia. The legs, they just too many legs, and they squirmed down on their thread. He couldn''t see any, yet, but this didn''t bode well. Max chastised himself for losing focus and rechecked the stairwell. One human bundle was spinning slowly as it wiggled and warbled. The boyish face and dark hair of the man came into view. He recognized the player who''d held the elevator door for him. He''d managed to get ahead of Max on his quest for a golden egg.


    "Any hints?" Max asked from the doorway, but the man only glared him as he slowly spun. Shrugging, Max stepped back a few paces, then jumped the two feet across the landing to the steel railing. Something stirred in the darkness above and Max glanced up.


    A woman with black hair, and skin the color of light granite descended toward him. An intricate black lace cloth covering her eyes, mouth and throat. In her hands was a single gossamer thread which she used to guide her fall. Connected to that smooth-skinned torso was a bulbous spider''s body. Six long black legs maneuvered the bulk of her form past the dozens of players cocooned higher up. Crawling along the web behind her were hundreds of basketball sized spiders. As they neared, he could hear them quietly chittering to each other.


    The first-floor landing was about twenty feet, but a mass of interlocking webs prevented him from just jumping down. Elevator man spun towards him again, but this time with a smile on his face.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "You fucked now, homie!" The man shouted with vengeful relish.


    "Thanks for the assist," Max replied, and the man looked at him like he was stupid. Leveraging his bulk over the rail, Max jumped for the hanging man and just managed to grab the guy by the torso. Max swung across the web strewn space, then fell hard to the concrete stairs, and rolled about five steps down before gaining his feet. He carried that momentum down.


    Above him, the spider-woman passes his cocooned friend. The exit was covered in the same sticky spider webs, and it took all his strength to drag it open. Long black legs curl over his shoulder and into view as the steel threads snap. Pale fingers grab at his uniform, which tore as he pushed forward, and more-or-less, fell through the partially open doorway. Eight crimson eyes stare at him from behind black lace as pale hands claw at the remains of his jacket. Max scrambled back across the carpet, and thankfully, the creature couldn''t squeeze her bulbous abdomen through the doorway. Five or six spiders crawled after him, but they were slow without the webbing.


    Gathering himself Max climbed to his feet and quickly put some distance between himself, the spiders, and the stairwell. Max''s heart rate had finally throttled down to an excited jackrabbit''s.


    "Damn spiders," he spat throwing his torn jacket at the closest one. They jumped on it, wrapping the bundle in the sticky thread and dragged it to their mother. He hated them with a passion, with there long legs, and unblinking eyes. He shuttered, glancing back down the corridor if only to check it was indeed empty. In the stairwell or maybe on a floor above, someone screamed.


    Good, if most of the others were on the upper floors that would keep the prowling creatures occupied. He walked quickly along an outside hall. To his left were boarded up doors and passages cluttered with junk. On his right were windows overlooking a garden and pool. Heavy clouds made a patchwork of moonlight and shadow. That though is what made him notice the glowing object, like a burning ember against the darkness of night. Max paused, looking through the windows to examine outside pool more closely.


    Swathes of yellow moonlight revealed three Olympic sized pools. The statues of Greek gods and heroes surrounded the water''s edge. In the middle, was a central fountain, and it was here the golden egg floated. Max was suspicious. There had to be at least one monster because a dozen corpses bobbed in the bloody water like candied apples.


    Max paused, and a small smile played over his face. Surprisingly, or maybe not, he was enjoying himself, and for the last two hours, he''d forgotten about his problems. Instead of wallowing in self-doubt and uncertainty Max was running for his life in a genuinely frightening haunted house. Now he just had to get whatever that mysterious prize was. He forced his breathing to slow as he crept down the corridor until he reached a set of glass double doors which opened onto a tiled veranda. Small tables, stools, and plastic chairs littered the poolside like a hurricane''s aftermath. Dark blood splatters showed a pattern of places where other players had died. He instinctively walked around the pool in the opposite direction.


    Something in shadows moved on the other side of the pool, and Max turned toward the motion, but it was like looking for a black shape against the night. His trained eyes sought out the signs of another presence. There¡­ A shadow moved around a patch of moonlight like smoke on the wind. It crept toward fountain and the golden egg floating above it. Max blinked losing sight of it in the evening mist, but now he knew something was here.


    Max back-peddled toward the open veranda doors trying to put distance between himself and the creature. A stray beam of light caught the figure in the open, and he saw it entirely for the first time. He thought the creature was human but quickly remembered how easily it had blended with the shadows.


    She was six feet tall with skin as pale as the marble statues. Purple and black hair made from the night sky fell partly across her face and shoulders. Through those locks of hair, silver eyes like pools of dancing mercury glared him with feral intensity. Black eyeshadow and those long lashes only heightened the effect her gaze had on him. More alabaster skin showed from a low-cut black leather corset. Down her right arm was a collection of skull tattoos amid a swirl of purple smoke. More skulls leered at Max from her right hip and down the outside of her thigh. Her long legs were cover by ripped and torn black stockings, which in turn disappeared into a pair of black knee-high combat boots.


    Pale skin, black hair, and preference for the stalking men from the shadows, Max thought bitterly. Of all the things that went bump in the night, it was this monster that humanity feared most.


    A vampire¡­


    It took him scant seconds to conclude he was properly fucked, especially since she was standing still and allowing him to see her. As if to demonstrate her utter confidence, the monster closed it''s piercing silver eyes. Shadows stretched and pooled around her body as she transformed into a small horde of bats. They flew across the pool toward him, and Max ran for the veranda doors, but they quickly outpaced him. He skidded to a stop as the woman reappeared between him and the exit. No time to admire how hauntingly beautiful she was as Max spun in the opposite direction. However, when he turned to the pool she was once more standing directly in front of him.


    Her black lips parted displaying a set of perfect teeth and an enormous pair fangs. She grinned at him like a predator smiles at prey. Trained instinct made him kick out at her forward leg. Her pale hand slapped his foot aside, and he was thrown off balance. Slender elven fingers grabbed his leg¡ªand damned if he didn''t notice her purple painted nails. Her other hand snatched a fistful of his undershirt, and casually tossed Max fifty feet across the pool and into the statue of a water nymph.


    He grunted from momentary pain as his back collided with the statue. Both he and unfortunate statue crashed to the ground in a broken heap. Water sprayed over him as he lay stunned next to the pool. Moonlight glittered off shiny boot buckles as they appeared nearby. The vampire reached down to grab him again but yanked her pale hand away as it touched the thin spray of water. Max noticed her reaction and gathered himself under the shower. With a groaned and pushed himself into a seated position and looked up. Her bright eyes glared down at him as she stalked back and forth just out of reach.


    Running water, he thought.


    So far, all the monsters had followed some rule. The sphinx had asked three riddles, and the bathroom phantom had murdered anyone who couldn''t name her. Running water was one of the dozen weaknesses a vampire had. Sunlight was another, but dawn was still hours away. Said vampire slowly prowled around his watery prison like an impatient cat. He forced himself to look around for crosses, but the only thing is sight were ancient Greek statues. Max doubted he''d find any Christian holy symbols among the gods and heroes of Olympus. No garlic or wooden stakes were handy either. What else was there?


    Wait a second, he thought with a rueful smile. Wulfe and her unhealthy obsession with urban romance might be useful. She''d gushed enough about werewolves and other supernatural creatures any time someone would listen. Running water was ancient lore. Long before vampires created a genre of dark romance, they were the stuff of nightmares. Pagan farmers would carry a pocket full for rice to toss at the vampire because they were magically compelled to count the grains.


    Knots were a lesser known rule, and a string was something he did have. Well, Max had no way to test if the old wives tale were right, but it was the best option he had. He didn''t want to tip his hand, and the vampire was watching him far too closely for his liking. He needed to distract her long enough to pull out one of his laces.


    "If this water stays on all night, I can hang out here. Other players will come by, and you''ll have to decide which one to hunt." He said gesturing to the pool filled with the corpses of her previous victims. Her silver eyes shifted in the moonlight as she paused her stalking. They tracked over his face as if she was studying his expression. "If anything, I could wait till dawn." He added quickly.


    "I could also call another weapon out here, and they will drag you from under there."


    "You strike me as the kind of woman who hunts alone," Max suggested, and fangs flashed as the vampire grinned at him.


    "Then we''re at an impasse because I''ll just hold you here and let the next player take the egg."


    "You could grab one of those chairs and throw it at me. I''ll be forced to move or be knocked into the water," he suggested pointing at the distant pool furniture. Suspicion colored her face. They stared at one another for a long minute, and he couldn''t help but admire the intelligence behind those eyes. One could almost see the risk/reward calculations taking place within her mind. Heck, If he''d ever encountered a thorny rose like this in the real world he''d have questioned his penchant for slutty blonds. She glanced at the golden egg floating above the fountain measuring the distance. "It''s not as if I can run a hundred feet faster than you. You''ve already demonstrated that."


    Almost a minute passed before her patience snapped and she turned away from him. Better still, she sauntered in the direction of the pool furniture, confident in her ability to catch him. Max tore at the laces on his right boot and yanked the string free. He quickly tied the ends together in an old seaman''s knot and just barely finished when the vampire reached the first pool chair. Max looked up to see a metal frame sailing towards his head, and he dove from the spot.


    The vampire was atop of him in a flash. Max tossed the shoelace at her, and the vampire caught it reflexively. To both of their surprises, she began tugging on the string. Then her fingers fought with the compacted knot, and Max scrambled backward. Rolling over, he gained his feet and sprinted for the golden egg. Behind him, the vampire was snarling in frustration.


    The fountain was a perfect circle with three statues standing together in the center. Poseidon stood with his trident in one hand and a conch shell in the other. Beside him was Zeus holding a bolt of lighting between his godlike fingers. The third statue faced away from Max, and he could only assume it was Aphrodite standing in an open oyster. Between them was a cloud which the golden egg floated on.


    Max leaped into the knee-high water and splashed toward the three gods. Poseidon was closest, and he grabbed onto the trident to pull himself up. The egg up close was only about the size of a golf ball and glowed from inside like a firebug. He found it was warm to the touch and soft like a marshmallow when he grabbed it. Odder still was the fact it tasted like honey and sunshine, or maybe cotton candy and hugs. It was weird, and it made his entire mouth tingle with power.


    Something landed in the fountain just behind Max and powerful hands grabbed him from behind. He was plucked from the statue like a troublesome child. Another set of talons dug into his hair and yanked his head back and to the side. Pain exploded across his neck as two needle-sharp fangs sank into his jugular. The bumps and bruises he''d taken until now were like pale shadows of this agony. Max could feel his blood being sucked out like he was the Gas-Station Slurpy. He gritted his teeth against the pain and grabbed the wrist holding his hair. With his other hand, he returned the favor by seizing a fistful of hers. Then Max bent forward using all his strength, weight, and leverage to haul the vampire into a judo toss.


    The fangs pulled free of his neck as the woman sailed forward into the statue of Poseidon. She let out a sharp cry of pain as the trident pierced her back. Max reached up feeling the puncture marks still bleeding bright red fluid. He stumbled backward fighting the weakness in his knees. The vampire and Greek Gods grew momentarily blurry, and he turned to put as much distance between himself and the monster. Max had his prize, and despite the pain in his neck, was going to check out of this strange hotel.

 Taken Home

    Blood seeped through his fingers as he clutched the wound, but the pain quickly subsided so only a ghostly tingle came from the bite marks. Max splashed through the knee-high water towards the lip of the pool. Behind him, the vampire swore under her breath as she struggled to free herself from the trident.


    "Well, aren''t you going to help me?" The vampire asked in a weary voice. Max paused with one drenched and soggy boot on the rim of the fountain. He glanced back at the raven-haired woman, still hanging upside-down, and staring after him with a chagrined expression. The ends of the weapon stuck out of her stomach like barbed broad-heads. "You know this hurts," she added, and he could imagine being impaled through the guts did smart.


    "Considering you just tossed me into a statue and took a chunk of my neck, I''m thinking no. Buh bye," Max said with a dismissive wave. The creature sighed in pained exasperation.


    "I''m not going to harm you¡­ now. Look, we''re registered, so I''m officially your weapon." She said pointing to something around her throat. Still suspicious, he walked part of the way back. There was a collar made of black plastic around her neck and several numbers glowed a dull yellow along one side.


    "Good idea with the string, by the way. Even I didn''t know about that until it came flying toward me." The woman said after a pause. Now that he was closer, Max could see the bloody wounds and the pained expression on her face in exquisite detail. Great, now he felt like an ass, so he stepped up to the statue, placed one boot on the god, and pulled. She gasped once before falling free and atop of Max. The vampire quickly pounced on him, and he struggled against her strength.


    "Someone''s coming," she hissed pushing his face under the water. With her other hand, she covered the glowing numbers on her new collar. Just then a shadow crossed in front of the moonlight.


    "You look a mess, Violet, and you''re top is ruined."


    "The last one was an annoying handful," She said in a sour voice. Her weight shifted so that it was fully atop Max. "Are you headed home?"


    "Not yet. I''ll shower first to get the blood off then head back in. There are still players joining the event, and I almost got registered, but the girl started squirming and I cut her on accident."


    "That happens when you have scissors for hands," Violet said with a smirk.


    "A pity. She was cute."


    "Good luck, she replied as the man turned the changing rooms. For a long minute, she kept him under the water before she released him. Max broke the water''s surface with a loud gasp, then struggled to sit up. She climbed from atop him and splashed to the edge of the fountain.


    "Edward is right, my top is ruined, so I''m going to change. This is a high traffic area because of the showers, and you still have a contract slot, so stay in the water. It should conceal your scent." She pushed him back into the fountain before trudging toward a set of changing rooms. Max lifted one of his arms and sniffed himself, but couldn''t smell anything strange.


    While he waited impatiently while several gunshots and the occasional scream filled the night. Far off in the distance, there was an explosion which briefly lit up the night sky. Three times he was forced to hold his breath and duck under the water as something crossed the pool. After twenty minutes a shadowy tattooed figured stopped next to the fountain. He broached the surface and rubbed the water from his face. She''d changed into a black sleeveless dress and a pair of four-inch heels. Max shook like a dog and gratefully climbed free of the pool.


    "It''s going to be a pain to get you out of the building with your extra contract slot intact."


    "Extra slot?"


    "That''s what the golden egg was. It adds another contract so you can register with a weapon. When I bit you that took up one free slot." She said tracing the numbers on the collar as if she were quickly reading them by touch. Now that she wasn''t trying to kill him, he admired the way her right arm was tattooed from shoulder to forearm with skulls.


    "We have two options," she said sauntering around Max, unapologetically checking him out in return. She clucked at his torn jacket and missing boot. One of her purple painted nails ran up his arm to the wound on his neck, then traced the two holes with a manicured fingernail. He turned his head to follow her as she circled him again.


    "I can kill you, so you''ll respawn back at the new arrivals lobby, but I won''t be able to reach you. You''d be stuck there all night surrounded by unregistered weapons. Option two is to log out, but I don''t think you trust me enough to carry you out of here."


    "What if I just pretend to be logged?"


    "Hmm, that might work, but you have to keep your breathing under control. Some of the monsters will have enhanced hearing. If you''re lucky, we can make it to my car.


    "You''re not a vampire anymore?"


    "Only unregistered weapons are affected by the Halloween event. Now I''m your sidearm, and it''s my duty to guide you through the game." The woman proved this by opening her mouth to show him a fangless set of perfect teeth.


    "I''m in your gentle care," he replied and she gave him a sinister smile.


    "Lay on the ground," she ordered curtly and he reluctantly followed her instruction. As soon as he sat on the tiles, the woman grabbed one bootless ankle dragged him bodily across the floor.


    Not a monster my ass, he thought as she pulled him along like he was weightless. Max cracked one eye just enough to watch her from behind. They passed through several splotches of moonlight, and in those few seconds he saw a lean, but well proportioned woman. More than that, she didn''t look like someone who could drag a six-foot-two, three hundred pound man across the ground. Her high heels clicked on the marble tiles and she eventually came to the opposite end of the pool. Pausing to switch hands, she pushed through the doorway into the hallway beyond.


    Max caught sight of two creatures. One a tall muscular man with the head and mane of a lion, and the other was female panda standing in the shadows. She had black and white fur covering her body and a tuft of fuzzy tail sticking out of tail-bone. He quickly closed his eyes as they turned in their direction.


    "One of you mind helping me?" Violet asked with a sigh and dropped his foot. "My Meister is soaking wet and I don''t want to ruin my new dress." Max still had trouble thinking of her as his weapon, and a part of him was suspicious of her motives. Still, he kept his eyes shut and did his best to play dead.


    "You managed to get one?" The lion asked in a voice two octaves shy of an earthquake.


    "I did," she admitted moving to grab both his ankles.


    "I''ll help," a throaty female purred and pawed feet crossed the carpet. A pair of furry arms snaked under his arms and clasped together over his chest. A bearlike muzzle pressed against the side of his face as he was lifting off the ground.


    "God, this one smells good, and I love big, strong men. Are you sure you registered with him?" The woman asked in a husky growl.


    "He got to the egg," The former vampire replied a touch bitterly.


    The panda whistled and said in a low sigh, "That explains why you contracted with him." Fur brushed his cheek and a wet nose sniffed his neck again. As instructed, he kept his breathing slow and steady as he was bodily carried down the hallway and into another open space.


    "You know, he''s really not bad looking. So many Meisters try and make themselves boyish and adorable." The creature voice purred. Arms around his chest tightened just a tad and he struggled to keep from sucking in a breath.


    "Looks aren''t everything."


    "They definitely help," the panda coo''d.


    They were forced to stop at the front doors. His body was juggled and claws dug in further for better purchase. It took everything in him not to react to the sudden pain. His jacket was gone and the woman''s claws sank into his flesh like knives through hot butter. Somehow they made it down the steps and across the parking lot without incident. The woman holding his feet dropped them and fished a pair of keys from her purse.


    "Have you checked his stats, yet?"


    "No, but he pulled me off my feet so I''m going to guess max strength and endurance.


    "Mmmm, a tank." She said snuffling Max''s neck again. "Can I have a taste of him?"


    "No."


    "Please, he smells so good," the beastwoman purred raking his uniform shirt further. Violet grabbed his legs and hefted them through the passenger door.


    "You know we can''t contract with players while they''re offline."


    "Ahhh, it''s just¡­ I want a Meister so bad," the panda whined but shoved him the rest of the way into the seat.


    "Look, another bus is coming in. You might be able to get into the garage before the door closes if you hurry." Violet suggested as she grabbed his torn shirt. The panda woman growled erotically then pounded pavement back toward the Armory. He kept his eyes closed as Violet continued to manhandle him into position. The warm touch of skin touched him as the woman whispered into his ear.


    "Stay still until we leave the lot," she said with a warning tone in her voice. His head was shoved inside followed by the passenger door slamming.


    After a few seconds, Violet climbed in the driver''s side. Slender fingers grabbed his neck and forced him down further so his head practically lay in the woman''s lap. She did not smell human, in fact, Max detected the faint scent of Hoppe''s #9, machined metal, molded plastic, and kiwi body soap. A jingle of keys dispelled the silence, the engine started, and the car backed out of the stall. One hand played over the puncture marks on his neck, which was already forming circular scars. Max opened his eyes and looked up. The passing street lights made shadows dance over her narrow face.


    So this is a gun? Max pondered as he examined her cold almost detached gothic features. Her skin was like ivory, with thin carefully plucked eyebrows and an aristocratic nose. Black lipstick covered a pouting pair of lips which led to her narrow chin and slender neckline. The smooth porcelain skin continued down her chest proving it wasn''t just makeup. A small curious heart-shaped locket danced between the swells of her cleavage. His gaze eventually turned full circle to her cold eyes as they scanned the road.


    "You don''t appear happy," he offered, and she let out a low sour sigh.


    "I didn''t intend to find a Meister tonight, and I''m worried how my¡­ girlfriend will handle the news."


    "You''re gay?" He asked in surprise. She glanced down and her silver eyes glowed dangerously with an inner light. The fingers laying on Max''s neck departed and she grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. They drove in silence for a few minutes, and his position in her lap became decidedly uncomfortable. He tried to rise but her sharp words stopped him.


    "Stay down," she hissed. "The streets are full of roaming weapons," she added and he relented with some annoyance.


    "Seems dangerous for a person to be out and about tonight," he muttered, and a cruel smile played across her face.


    "This is the best chance players are going to have to get their hands an extra contract slot, so they are out in force. The free weapons might even let them have the egg just to register afterward, but killing a Meister tonight is worth a thousand credits. It works out for us in either case."


    "Is that what the gunfire is?"


    "Weapons can''t die, but a couple of slugs might slow us down long enough to get an egg. Quite, we''re almost to the apartment." She said turning on the blinker. With that, the car pulled off the street and into a luxury apartment complex. They drove past several tall buildings before she parked the car.


    "I''ll get out and check the lot," she said opening the driver side door. Max was jostled as she slid out, and took a long minute to look around. When she knocked on the roof, Max straightened in the seat. The parking stalls nearby were filled with expensive cars, but nobody was in sight. He opened the passenger door, stood, and loudly cracked his neck.


    "Her car isn''t here so she¡¯s probably working an extra shift."


    "Does that mean I should hide when she comes back?"


    "Possibly, but I''ll talk to her first."


    "This is all very strange," he admitted following her toward the building''s lobby doors.


    "Normally, you''d exit the cloning chamber and pick your own pistol, but you had the good luck to join during an event. Unfortunately, you got me." She said pressing a hand the console next to the thick glass doors. It was a toss-up. The extra slot was nice, but she had some attitude. For now, he''d play it by ear and follow her lead.


    Violet entered the lobby and headed for an elevator, which slid open to reveal a blood-covered interior. The body of a man was slumped in one corner. A small orange haired doll stood on the corpse''s shoulder holding a bloody knife. It turned toward him and made stabby-stabby motions with his knife. His guide ignored the gory scene and pressed her palm to the control screen. Max joined her but avoided the doll and the largest pool of blood. The elevator closed with a cheery ding and quickly ascended.


    It opened on the small entryway and Violet stepped across a thick welcome mat. She pressed her palm to the screen again and the heavy wooden door swung open. The penthouse apartment stretched the entire length of the building and was a single massive room. White couches huddled before an 84-inch television and a surround-sound home theater system. Throw pillows sat nestled in each couch corner and a large fuzzy blanket was thrown over the back. The black lacquered floors had been covered by several patterned rugs.


    Max moved toward the couches while Violet immediately headed for an open island style kitchen. Out of habit he sat facing the door but turned to watch his new weapon. She took a glass from the freezer, filled it with ice, and a set it on the black granite counter top. Then fetched a bottle of red wine and filled the glass to its crown. She carried the drink to another couch and sat opposite him.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The woman stood out against the cheerful backdrop like a demon in a church. Then again, it was Halloween, and she might just be dressed like that for show.


    "You have a nice place," he commented.


    "Thanks to the Star Nova Update we weapons have more options, like owning vehicles and renting apartments. It''s also why we have jobs." She said waving her glass around the apartment before taking a sip. "Before that, we had to rely on our Meister for everything. Those that didn''t have a contract had to return to the Armory."


    "A penthouse like this must cost quite a lot." He said and the woman replied with a nod.


    "What do you do?"


    "I was working as a beer girl at a local bar, not that I can keep it now."


    "I''m not going to stop you from working.


    "I have to be available to you 24/7, so it''s expected we quit when we contract. Think of it like maternity leave, only for weapons."


    "I hope you have some money saved up," Max said glancing around at the extravagant penthouse.


    "That''s why I was so annoyed with you. Thanks to the event, I made more in one day than I usually do in two months at the bar. You cut my evening short, but I have enough to cover my share of the rent." She said before sipping from her wine and leaving the conversation to flounder. Max glanced around once more looking for anything to talk about. Finally, his eyes landed on the skulls covering her right arm.


    "I like the tattoos."


    "You do?"


    "I do."


    "Do you wanna know a secret about them?" Violet asked uncrossing her legs. She took her time putting the wine down and stood. With one hand she tugged on the slit of her dress exposing even more of the skulls. They started at her hip and ran to just above her knee.


    "Every skull is a Meister I''ve had."


    "You mean a Meister you''ve killed because I can believe that," he said and she laughed.


    "Hardly, but they might as well be dead to me. No, all of them left for one reason or another. Some dropped me for another weapon, but most quit the game."


    "Is it because your gay?"


    "Some of them were women, but I''m not strictly gay. The gender of a Meister means nothing to me. No, most quit Gun Meister before the thirty-day trial was up."


    "I seem to recall a purple flower on your waistline, so not all your tats are skulls."


    "That was after my first Meister and a reminder that something beautiful came from that awful shitbag. He''s the one reason I''ll never transfer over to Star Nova."


    "That''s the other game the developers put out?" Max asked gesturing vaguely to the ceiling.


    "Yes, and it''s why almost half the player base is gone. It''s a far more grandiose game than Gun Meister."


    "So a bunch of guns got abandoned?"


    "Most transferred over with their Meisters, but that still left many without contracts. Maybe that''s really why they let us buy things so we''d be forced to find jobs." Violet said draining her wine glass.


    They were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and Violet leaped to her feet. She quickly rounded the couch and intercepted a literal angel before she could make it more than a few steps into the apartment. The new woman was about five-foot-six with light bronze hair, a glowing digital halo, and pair of white wings sticking out of her back. She was a woman perfectly balanced between youthful beauty and mature bearing. She had hips that could shake a man''s soul and tits that were frankly, godly. Close on her heels was a bronze colored retriever. Its tail waged, and a pink tongue lolled from a slobbering mouth. The animal wasn''t full grown yet because it still had floppy ears like a puppy dog.


    "Welcome home, Friday," Violet said leaning in to peck the angel on the cheek. The animal brushed Violet and came to stare at Max. It crouched low, ready to jump away as it sniffed his knee. He barked once which drew the attention of the Angel still blocked in the doorway.


    "Did you bring home another stray Meister?"


    "Yes¡­ I''m sorry." Violet replied hugging her quickly. Max waved from his place in the living room if only to announce himself.


    "Hello, Nice to meet you. Violet and I were just discussing your first Meister."


    "Derek?" She asked in surprise and Violet''s back stiffened like she''d been struck by lightning. "I shouldn''t have said it," the blond gasped covering her mouth with a hand.


    "I deserve it for bringing home another Meister," she said and slipped past the blond. Violet closed the door with a non-to-gentle slam. The angel''s shoulders sagged, and she pressed her forehead against the door.


    "Shucks," she cursed banging her head and halo against the door. "Fiddlesticks," she said smacking the wood again.


    "I take it Derek left a lasting impression," Max said and the busty angel spun to face him.


    "You have no idea."


    "I agree with you there. Care to enlighten me?" He asked and the angle blew out her breath.


    "It''s not my story, so I don''t have the right to say."


    "That woman stormed out when you mentioned Derek''s name. I can''t imagine how powerful the explosion will be if I step on that landmine." He suggested watching the new woman closely. Supposedly this was an unregistered weapon, but she didn''t appear very fearsome. The woman was a hot slice of sex appeal, especially with the halo and angel wings. Of course, she had that light bronze hair and a white colored summer dress on. Everything about her was disarming. Friday sighed again and walked into the kitchen, halo bobbing as she moved. Slits had been cut in the summer dress to allow for the wings. They flexed briefly as she fetched a glass for the opened wine bottle.


    "Do you want a drink?" She asked and Max hid a frown. Violet hadn''t offered him one, and maybe that was more telling than anything else tonight.


    "No, but thank you for asking," he said watching as she poured herself a small half-measure. The angel moved gracefully around the island, taking Violet''s vacated seat. She glanced down at his the single remaining boot, the missing jacket, and the shredded shirt desperately clinging to his muscle-bound chest. Max looked like he''d tumbled into a knife fight with an angry wombat and come out the loser. He briefly followed her gaze, then crossed his arms over the tattered shirt.


    ¡°Nice dog,¡± he said glancing at the retriever.


    ¡°That¡¯s Rusty, we adopted him just after new years.¡± The angel said taking another sip. She settled back like she was preparing for something long winded.


    "Derek was a Meister who stopped growing in rank at Gold Four. He took out his annoyance on his weapons, both verbally and physically. One such incident happened in public, and he was banned for thirty days for Behavior Unbecoming a Meister."


    Friday took another long sip from her wine glass as if bolstering herself. "I only met him after he returned, and I''d just been manufactured. That was back during the height of Gun Meister''s popularity. I remember being so excited to have my first contract, and I didn''t even care he had no other weapons with him. Derek never struck me, but I think that was due to Violet showing up a day later. She made it clear that if he stepped out of line they''d ban him permanently. He was pleasant enough, but lacked any ambition and spent the first week losing every game¡ªI suspect on purpose. Derek quickly deranked to silver so Violet and I were his only guns. He was passively spiteful like refusing to clean us after the matches, but I suppose we should thank him for that. Violet and I quickly discovered we could please each other better than he could."


    Rusty bounded onto the couch and put his head onto Friday''s lap. She paused to smile down at the golden retriever and scratch behind his ears. Friday eventually turned her attention back to Max and continued her story. "I suppose it didn''t matter because after two months, Star Nova launched, and he transferred his subscription. Derek asked me to join him, but I refused. By then Violet and I were in a committed, albeit secret relationship."


    "Violet did say something beautiful came from the shithead, but I''m surprised by how many other Meisters she''s gone through."


    Friday laughed lightly and asked, "She told you about the skulls? That conversation doesn''t usually happen until day three or four."


    "I get the feeling she doesn''t like me much," Max said watching the woman continued to pet and scratch the dog. It''s bushy tail flailed about on the couch in abject bliss.


    "Does it bother you?" She asked.


    "In my previous profession assholes abounded, so I''ve grown a thick skin. Doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll let her walk over me," Max replied with an exaggerated shrug. The front door opened and Violet stepped into the penthouse looking more collected. Friday pointed toward the back of the apartment.


    "There are several guest rooms you can choose from. Would you give us some time to talk?" She asked and Max stood. He wandered across the spacious penthouse toward the back. Three doors lead to identical bedrooms and he picked the middle one, just because. Even here the room was about four meters across and a king-sized bed in the corner. The sheets were grey silk with a white comforter.


    Max sat on the bed and pulled off his socks and shoes. His tattered shirt disintegrated as he took it off, so he dropped the handful of strips into the wastebasket. Scars formed several lines across his chest, and he checked his neck wound. The circular scabs seemed to be shrinking, so he assumed this body would eventually help completely. Finally, he shucked his pants and laid down on the bed without bothering with the sheets.


    Tonight had been¡­ interesting. The event had scared the pants off him, along with most of his other clothes. It was a heck of a lot more fun than any other horror house he''d been in. It had also helped highlight just how useful each statistic was, and he was glad he''d poured those two extra points into his Endurance. There were two separate points he must have been close to death. His agility sucked, but he could live with his current stats.


    The weapon wasn''t so bad either, and it was hard to believe she wasn''t human. He pretended to be annoyed with the vampire, but her attitude actually tickled him. Well, to be fair, he just liked poking her buttons.


    Max tried to rest, but all he managed was a light doze. He lay their, eyes closed, and struggled to tune out the muffled moaning drifting through the apartment. Max wondered if true sleep was a thing of the past. Two or three hours must have passed like that until the door to his room opened. He was instantly awake cracking one eye to glanced at the exit. A shadow stood framed by the light from the living room.


    Bronze hair was highlighted by a dimly glowing halo and a pair of shining eyes. He was partly interested but mostly worried for his safety as the woman crossed the room. Max pretended to sleep as the mattress squeaked, and they crawled across the bed toward him. A presence that smelled like gun solvent and red wine hovered over him. Gentle feminine fingers caressed the thin scars on his chest before sliding up to the nearly healed bite wound. Thighs like soft pillows slid over his hips and a face pressed itself to his chest.


    "Pretending to be logged out isn''t going to work on me," a voice above him said huskily. "Violet told me how you escaped the Armory. Plus I can hear your heart rate increase, but you can''t hide that erection."


    Max gave up his attempt at deception and opened both eyes. The angel was considerably more voluptuous than her roommate, especially her chest. Her womanly shape was visible through a gossamer white nightie with matching panties. Her weight settled atop him and she began to grind an already damp crotch against his boxers.


    "What about Violet?" He asked not caring about her answer.


    "She''s dozing, and I know she''ll be mad, but¡ª"


    "Then maybe you shouldn''t be doing this," Max interjected.


    "I can''t help myself," she admitted rocking faster. His boxers quickly grew slick, and the erection within hardened into diamond. "We weapons need a Meister¡­ We need to be used." Friday breathed shifting her weight again. Her fingers plucked at the hem of his boxers, and the fabric was just cresting his manhood when she froze in place. She turned toward a dark shape in the doorway.


    "I''m sorry," she whispered in a voice barely audible.


    "Don''t be," Violet replied in a neutral voice.


    "I''m so sorry," Friday repeated sliding off Max and crossing the room in single bound. She slid to her knees and wrapped both arms about the taller woman.


    "You have nothing to apologize for," Violet replied stroking a hand through Friday''s coppery hair.


    "How could I be angry when I succumbed to the same urge earlier tonight. I bit him knowing what would happen. Really, I''m the one who did this."


    "Holy shit, guys. I''m starting to feel like the toilet paper stuck to someone''s shoe. If this is such a big deal I''ll head to the armory tomorrow and contract with another pistol."


    "The event has everyone''s blood pumping. Emotions are high, so let''s wait until the morning to make a decision."


    "You''re not entirely wrong, though. I''m on the thirty-day trial while I figure things out."


    "Hmmm¡­." Violet mused and her eyes slid over Max and the tent he was still pitching.


    "Well, it''s almost midnight and Friday should change back soon. Please don''t think badly of her. Like everyone else, her body is responding to the scent of your open contract. Just so you know, even if you had registered, you couldn''t use Friday until you reach Silver rank. She''s a Scar-H assault rifle, and you can only bring sidearms into Bronze matches." Violet said gathering her partner up. The two women departed which left him in a fine state of arousal. He considered taking a cold shower but settled for putting his pants back on.

 First Match

    The smell of breakfast alerted Max someone was awake. He''d gone back to dozing on and off for most of the night. Despite all the action, the bruises, and the constant running, he felt good. The ache in his neck was gone along with the bite marks. Even the scars on his chest had vanished overnight. He rolled off the mattress, glanced with annoyance at the single boot in the corner, and left the bedroom barefoot. A woman sans her halo stood in the kitchen in pink cotton pajamas. Morning sunlight streamed through the bay windows and turned her hair a golden bronze.


    "Good Morning," he said taking a seat at the open counter. Friday started with a squeak. Then turned to face him, saw his naked chest, and quickly returned her focus to the sausages.


    "I''m sorry for my behavior."


    "We didn''t exactly do anything. Besides, I had a bunch of tricks last night. You''re the only one that gave me a treat for Halloween, so thank you for that." He said and Friday turned a way in embarrassment. The coffee machined beeped and Max poured himself a cup. Friday hurried to set milk and sugar down next to him.


    "Breakfast?" She asked returning to a pan of eggs and sausages.


    "Love some," he replied stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. He tasted it and settled more fully onto his stool. Friday poked at the eggs before turning one over. The holy aura was gone, and her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail.


    "Violet mentioned I couldn''t use a primary weapon until Silver. You¡¯re a Scar-H right?" He asked and she nodded without looking back.


    "Yes, divisions are separated into metal groups, and each division has five ranks. Players begin at bronze one and rank up to bronze five."


    "So I''m a scrub?" He asked taking another sip of his coffee.


    "Hardly. Gun Meister starts all Meisters with a pistol so players get accustomed to the game. At Silver you gain another contract slot, so you can register with primary weapons and wear armor. After obtaining Gold you can use explosives and register with special weapons."


    "Like what?"


    "Flame throwers, grenade and rocket launchers, basically anything that doesn''t throw a slug."


    "I see. So, how many Divisions are there?"


    "It goes from bronze to silver, then gold, platinum, diamond, and finally, tungsten." Friday replied, and Max gave a short whistle of appreciation.


    "So at Silver, we could contract?" He asked and Friday paused mid egg-flip to blush all over again. The sausages crackled in following silence. The waffle iron beeped which shook her from the moment.


    "I can''t promise anything. Violet and I are in a relationship, and I''m in no rush to find a new Meister." Friday said pushing the waffles towards him. Max pulled the butter and jar of maple syrup toward him.


    "Speaking of Violet, I still don''t know what she is. That little detail got lost in the chaos." He said, and by some magic summoned the woman. Violet slid onto the stool next to his. Today she was dressed in black leather pants, the right leg of which had been cut off to display her collection of skulls. Her top was a short torn black t-shirt with faded white letters, and a collar circled her throat.


    "I''m a very common, plain Jane, Glock 19," she said reaching for the coffee, milk, and sugar.


    "9mm, right?" He asked examining her expression. She was back to being cool and collected like when they''d first met.


    "So, you know a little bit about guns?"


    "Enough to be dangerous," he replied with a conspiratorial smile. Violet poured herself a cup of coffee and dropped four spoonfuls of sugar into the drink followed by a tiny splash of milk.


    "So, what''s on the agenda?" He asked taking a sip of his own mug.


    "I have to stop by work and let Quinn know I found a Meister. Thankfully, I have today off, so he has time to get a replacement."


    "Sucks for him."


    "This isn''t the first time I''ve taken time off work, so he''ll understand. Afterward, we can go shopping. You''ll need¡ª" She paused to look over his shirtless torso, and lack of footwear.


    "I suppose you''ll need clothes first, then a holster, ammo, and some spare magazines." She said like it was something she repeated far too often. "That''s¡­ if you still want me," she added shortly after.


    "I''ll keep ya, though I tend to prefer the full-sized Glock 17."


    "At Silver, you can modify my slide and grip to any length. You can also change my caliber, sights and a number of other things. If, and it''s a big if, you reach gold, you can buy advanced mods like silencers and full-auto conversion kits.


    "Sounds useful," he admitted.


    "Some Meisters spend thousands of credits customizing their favorite weapons," Friday said holding out a butter knife and fork to use. Max turned his attention to the plate full of waffles and sausages. Before he could pick up his fork, Violet snaked a hand out and grabbed it. Her silver eyes met his as she plucked the fork from Friday''s hand.


    Breakfast thief, he thought and waited until she''d put it in her mouth. Then he grabbed the second sausage and pushed it into his mouth.


    "Hey!"


    "You''ve not eaten around Seals have you?" He asked around a mouthful of food. Max reached for her syrup covered waffles next, but she quickly pulled the plate in close. The silver fork hovered in the air like a snake ready to strike. The dog came trotting out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Friday turned and stroked the dog''s ears.


    "You want food too?" She asked and the animal barked in agreement. The woman fished a sausage from the pan and held it out. Rusty happily tore into the treat, wolfing it down in seconds and looking expectantly for another. His entire body hummed with unbridled pleading.


    "Come on. They''ll end up doing that all morning. Friday is a sucker for puppy dog eyes and Rusty knows it." Violet said popping off the stood. Friday was already holding another cooked sausage out for the golden retriever.


    Violet grabbed a small black purse and the car keys hanging on the hook by the door. Max followed her out to the elevator, and she pressed her palm to the control screen. It activated, and she touched the ground floor icon. She lead to her battered Dodge Charger, and Max was forced to yank the passenger door open. The engine cough twice before roaring to life. They backed out and onto the nearly empty street.


    "It won''t take long to get there. The bar is a couple of blocks down from the mall."


    The morning mist still clung tenaciously to the blacktop, and the stores zipped past as Violet drove straight through red lights with a death-wish. Max couldn''t help but remember the last few seconds of his life. The accident had been too fast to leave a lasting impression, but he could distinctly remember the flash of headlights as they barreled into him. Violet finally turned into a small parking lot were a single story building stood out among the others with garishly rainbow paint. "Crossed Stars," was written across the front windows in a rainbow of colors. The Charger braked to a stop, and they climbed out.


    Violet led him around the side and through an open employee door. Then past kegs of beer, cases of hard alcohol, and six-foot-tall stuffed penguin. The large room was dim except pink and purple lights splitting the space into two sections along with a dance floor in the middle. A royal party must have taken place because the floor looked like a warzone. Beer bottles and empty glasses littered the tables like spent shell casings and glitter covered everything like techno-flavored confetti.


    A man stood in the middle of it all with a broom and a pleased expression on his face. He was vaguely Hispanic with dark hair and a lean effeminate body. A pink Italian barrette perched precariously on his head against all known laws of physics. He had a pink sequin vest on over a fishnet top, and a white feather boa hung around his neck which dangled almost to the ground. He''d somehow squeezed into a pair of pink short-shorts, and set of platform boots. The music had been turned down, so Violet stopped a few feet away to shout.


    "Quinn!"


    The man turned to her with a surprised smiled. "Violet, you should have stopped by last night. There was a real monster bash!" He squealed with a chirpy lisp. "I''m still sweeping up the fur and feathers¡ª"


    They met on the dance floor and Quinn kissed Violet on each cheek. He paused to stare past Violet at Max, standing near the back hall. "Oh¡­my¡­ lord. Who is that hot slice of beefcake behind you, and when does that buffet open? Please tell me he swings for our team."


    "Sorry to disappoint, but Max kept staring at Friday last night, so I don''t think you have a chance." Violet said glancing back at him. Max tried not to be too uncomfortable standing there half naked.


    "You should know we men love a challenge, and for that¡­. Umphhf, yummy!" He replied with a small squeal.


    "That''s the other reason I stopped by. He''s my new Meister."


    "Ahh, I figured as much, but I had high hopes you brought me breakfast," Quinn said with a sigh. "Both Yohan and Reily found Meister''s last night, so I''m desperately short staffed."


    "I''m sorry. I know I do this way too often."


    "Not your fault, darling. If I could find a Meister like Carlos again, I''d probably close up the bar and never look back."


    "You''re not mad?"


    "Not looking forward to tomorrow, but I wish you the best. Besides, he could be the one."


    "Please, Quinn¡­ not that again," Violet drolled.


    "Trust me, when you find ''the'' Meister. You''ll know it because it''s like being in love." He said clutching the broom to his chest. Violet glanced back at Max.


    "In that case, I feel relieved, because I know he ain''t it." She said with a ruddy growl. Quinn patted Violet''s tattooed arm with a sad smile.


    "Be off with you now before I hand you my broom." Quinn said, and the two did that kissed cheeks again before Violet turned away. She brushed past him in a blur, and Max trotted after her to the used car.


    The mall was a massive t-shaped building just a couple blocks down from the bar. It looked empty at first, but Max quickly caught sight of several couples like himself. Usually, it was a giddy looking guy dressed in a grey uniform walking next to a beauty. One or two of which wore nothing but black bikini''s.


    "Sam''s Surplus has used clothes, but you may not find shoes that fit. It''s a crap-shoot with their inventory. You start the game with one-thousand credits, so it''s up to you want to buy."


    "Is there a tactical store?"


    "Sure is, but expect to pay a premium," she said walking through the food court. They quickly arrived at Teddy''s Tactical Threads were several manikins flanked the doors dressed in 5.11 tactical. Just inside were shelves stuffed with every combination of camouflage clothing. A Meister stood halfway down one aisle trying to decide between urban digital pants and desert khakis while female hovered nearby. Violet peeled off and went to sit on the bench nearest the door. She pulled a mobile phone from her purse and immediately ignored him. That left Max to wander around and find his outfit.


    Max wandered back toward the shoe section and quickly discovered his thousand credits wasn''t going to last long. A single pair of leather combat boots would cost 120 credits. Then picked out a pair of plain blue jeans, a pair boxers on discount, then splurged on a Blue Alpha Tactical Belt because Max was going to need a holster. In the shirt section, he found an Under Armor tanktop, then everything up to the counter. A girl with green hair and an eyebrow piercing snapped her chewing gum at him. Still, she began to push his items through the scanner.


    "Place your palm on the screen, if that''s everything." The girl said gesturing to the nearby console. His purchases came up in a list.


    ____________


    Size 12 Belleville Field Boots - 120c


    Large Wool Socks - 4c


    Large Cotton Boxers - 6c


    Levi Jeans - 100c


    Extra-Large Under Armor Shirt - 35c


    Blue Alpha Tactical Belt - 65c


    Total = 330c


    _____________


    Max touched the accept button and his credits dropped to 670, and the bored attendant pointed him toward a nearby changing room. Max felt much better fully clothed, and he checked himself in the mirror. The white tank clung to his muscled frame, and the Jeans were tight. Still, he pushed from the room and over to Violet who was still poking away at her phone. She looked up as he neared and scanned him.


    "You mentioned a holster store?" He asked.


    "Mike''s Magazines and Holsters are nearby." Violet replied slipping her phone in the purse. She stood shouldering it and lead him back toward the food court. Rifle and pistol magazines were stacked together into a miniature medieval fort, with a moat of spent shell casings.


    "Do you need help finding a holster or magazines?" Violet asked and her expression hoped he would not.


    "I pretty much know what I want."


    "Holsters are that way," she said pointing past him. Max wandered past the magazine fort and toward the aisle she''d indicated. Halfway down he located a T.Rex Ragnarok OWB holster. On the same aisle, he found four Pistol Pouches for 25 credits a piece.


    The real shock came when he found the extra magazines. A factory default 15 round Glock mag was just ten credits. The seventeen round ones were 100 credits, nineteen round mags were a thousand credits, and a thirty-three round mag was ten grand. He let out a dejected sigh holding the holy grail of Glock mags. Maybe someday he could afford one. He put that one back and considered his options. The holster and mag pouches would come to 230 credits, which left him with about 450. He could buy almost thirty factory mags or get three 17 round mags. That would leave him enough for ammo, which he still needed. He took his items up front and the found old man casually kicked back on a stool.


    "How much for 9mm?"


    "Ten credits for a hundred rounds," in a rough gravely voice.


    "Then I''ll take ten boxes along with all this," Max said putting everything down.


    "If you want range time see Alex in back. He can rent you a lane and shooting gear."


    ______________


    T.Rex Ragnarok OWB Holster - 130c


    4 x Snake Eater Burro Pistol Pouches = 100c


    3 x 17 Round Glock Mags = 300


    1000 rounds 9mm = 100c


    Total - 630c


    _____________


    Max slid the Kydex holster on, and the grizzled vet nodded as he watched Max fit the pistol pouches on next. He took his ammo and mags back toward the range. Another man, this one with short blond hair and blue eyes manned a glass counter. Behind him were bulletproof windows showing off rows of shooting lanes and a couple of new players like him.


    "How much do you have left?" Violet asked glancing at his shopping.


    "Fifty creds or so. I''m about busted," he admitted.


    "Good, you have enough for pistol training."


    "I know how to use a gun," he said rolling his eyes.


    "If you say so," she replied dubiously turning to the attendant. "He needs a lane, eyes, and ears," Violet said.


    "Lane two is open," The younger man said pointing behind him. The lane was 15 credits and the shooting gear 5, but he accepted the charge again. Violet was already opening the range door when he grabbed his shopping bags and followed. Men and¡­ a few women were shooting in their own lanes¡ªall of them carefully aiming down range. They stopped in bay two. Max smiled indulgently at Violet as she went through the four gun rules, and he was certain Violet was patronizing him, but safety was important.


    She finished by saying. "I''ll warn once if you finger my trigger. Do it too often and I''ll mock you unmercifully. If you understand the rules, eject my magazine and load it with ammo." Violet stared at him for a long second, then closed her eyes. Her skin began to glow yellow, and Max was forced to look away. He blinked, looked back, and saw a Glock 19 laying on the shooting bench.


    "Interesting," he said picking up the weapon to examine. Many called the Glock an ugly plastic brick, but he thought there was a simple beauty in the utilitarian design. Both upper and lower receivers were a flat black. The Glock logo marked the front of the pistol followed by the model number. The rear slide was etched with vertical grip grooves, and the sights were the factory default white dot and goalpost. Max tore open the first box of ammo, and pushed the first couple in without difficulty, but as he reached the thirteenth round, he was forcing them in.


    "Aren''t you going to shoot?" Violet asked. It was as if she were standing directly beside him and whispering into his ear. Max turned his head but only saw the other shooters in their own lanes.


    "Well¡­"


    "Easy there girl, a man needs a little foreplay," he said slipping a 17 round mag into the well. It clicked softly, and he grabbed the slide, racking it hard. Hanging before the lane was a fresh piece of target paper, and he sent it down about halfway.


    Glocks didn''t have manual safeties, so all he had to do was raise the weapon up to eye level. His grip was high and tight, and the front sights naturally settled onto the target. He squeezed the trigger, and a hole appeared in the paper less than an inch off center. Max was surprised by the lack of felt recoil, but maybe that was another benefit to his strength score. He took three more shots to confirm his feeling. One ragged hole appeared dead center and Max smiled. He experimented by holstering the weapon and raising his hands. Then brought them down, drew the gun, and fired. The bullet punched through the paper way off center.


    "I am definitely out of practice," Max muttered holstering the pistol again. Max intentionally slowed down his movement, took a firm grip, and drew the pistol. This time the bullet hit the target in the upper chest and he pushed the Glock out to arm''s length. The next two rounds were a double tap to the face and head. His next draw was faster with four controlled rounds. Each bullet struck the X in the target before the slide locked back and he used his thumb to hit the release. The empty mag dropped free and his fingers closed around the thin box. Using his index finger, Max guided it into the open well and shoved it home. Then thumbed the slide release and pushed the weapon forward. The next three shots were a bit high and to the left but still caught the target''s shoulder. It was a good thing he bought a thousand rounds to practice with because he fucking needed it. For the next two hours, he dumped ammo downrange. Eventually, he holstered the pistol and left the range smelling of spent fowling.


    "What happens now?" He asked catching her scent of gun powder. The Glock in his holster began to glow before a tall, pale-skinned woman flashed into existence. Violet seemed apathetic, but there were several sooty spots on her neck, cheek, and forehead.


    "You''re out of money, so a competition match is your best option." She responded rubbing at the smudges.


    "A match it is," he said excitedly and they headed for the exit. They left the megamall and climbed into Violet''s battered muscle car. It started, died, and sputtered to life again with a roar. Before it could die again, she threw it into gear and spun out onto the busy street. The competition center was about a mile down the same avenue. It came into view. It was oval shaped, about three blocks in diameter and glass fronted. Advertisements for pistol mods, sports drinks, and tactical gear covered every available surface. Violet pulled into the lot which was quickly starting to fill. It was midday, and the players were beginning to log in. Max closed the rusty door with a needed slam and joined Violet as they headed toward the entrance.


    "Join Horrible Old Men! We placed second in last year''s tournament!"


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Not Safe For Work is accepting new applicants. We have virgin guns!"


    Max passed a dozen recruiters decked out in tactical gear, skin, and cleavage. Girl, Inc wasn''t even trying to be subtle about it either. He stopped to examine the woman and the camouflage paint covering her body. The only clothing she had on was a holster strapped to her green thigh, and a golden AK74/U slung across her back.


    "New to Gun Meister? Join Girls, Inc! We''ll provide ammo, gear, and training!" The tall ginger haired woman shouted. She lowered the little megaphone and glanced at Max as he eyeballed her.


    "You just joined last night?" She asked Max, and he gave her a half shrug. He must have looked like a scrub with just a pistol and a handful of mags, but he wasn''t alone. Yesterday''s Halloween event had drawn in a clutch of new players, and some of them were walking past him now.


    "You should sign up with us. Our only requirement is a female avatar, so you''d have to remake your character. Since you''re bronze, that doesn''t seem like a big deal. You can even re-contract with your current pistol, which is what I did," The woman said patting the holstered weapon on her thigh. The idea had some appeal, and the offer wasn''t bad, but he had no interest in spending his eternal days as the opposite sex.


    "Interesting offer, but I''ll pass. I like the swinging meat between my legs."


    "Not going to get a better deal than us. Everyone knows we have the biggest compound on this side of the server. We''re the best clan in the game." She replied moving toward him. Maybe she sensed his interested like a shark sensing blood in the water. Max pointed past her toward the gray-haired man thirty feet down.


    "Didn''t those guys say they got second place?" He asked.


    "Pfft, they lost most of their members when Star Nova went live. Why do you think they''re out here recruiting newbies?" She asked glancing over at the geriatric soldier.


    "Isn''t that what you''re doing?"


    "Heck no! We are a full-service clan. Get em young, train them up, and they''ll stick around longer. That''s what the boss says anyway. Those old farts started as ¡®the best of the best'' types. They only took diamond players and above." She scoffed in a voice loud enough for them to hear. The old man gave them an off-hand bird. The girl turned back and added in a more normal tone, "They walked out of the tourney with fifty thousand dollars and the second place trophy. Now look at ¡®em."


    Max whistled as the old man shouted his recruiting slogan again. A dozen new players walked past not even glancing at the veteran. Everything about his kit screamed skilled, from the pistol tight against his waist to the perfectly aligned rifle mags. He''d either had combat training or practiced to find that perfect ratio.


    "What was the first place prize?"


    "Five million dollars which was taken by us, of course." She said in a tone filled with undeserved pride. Her gear¡ªwhat little there was¡ªlooked sloppy and unorganized, but maybe that was to show off her tits. "Well¡ª" she admitted sheepishly. "Not me personally, but Pink Squad took the championship. They got half the money for themselves, and the clan took the rest. They''re reinvesting the winnings, which is why I''m standing out here butt naked covered in green paint."


    "So?" She asked putting her hands on her hips.


    "Thanks for the tip, but I''ll pass."


    "You know where to find me if you have second thoughts," she said with a little wave.


    Max passed through the front doors and had trouble believing half the player population had left. Men and women filled the front lobby. Black tiled floor stretched toward a convenience desk were two people were answering questions from newbies. Several enormous monitors hung down from the ceiling which was showing a clan match in progress. Off to the right, a dozen circular elevators and a stairwell down. People were coming and going from them in a river of tactical gear. On the left was an open lounge with a hundred or so booths. Black leather couches dotted the area full of chatting players. It amazed Max, and he tried to imagine what it was like during the height of Gun Meister''s popularity. Violet prodded him in the shoulder.


    "Go up to any console and place your palm on the surface. Select either a deathmatch or a team match. It''s up to you."


    "What''s the difference?"


    "The prize money. Deathmatches payout ten-thousand credits to the winner, but the same amount is split between five people in a team match. Killing other players is the other way to make money."


    "I think I''m better off by myself right now," he said, and Violet nudged him toward a side console. Max got into line behind several others. Once it was his turn, he placed his palm on the screen. It lit up with several options.


    _______________


    [Character Stats]


    [Quick Death-Match]


    [Quick Team-Match]


    [Quick Casual Match]


    [Custom Casual]


    _______________


    The majority of the screen was taken up by the five selections. Along the edge was a sidebar offering even more options. The line of Meisters behind Max was growing though, so he just hit Quick Death Match.


    "Please Enter Lobby 49," the screen said in a female voice.


    "Now you enter an elevator, then swipe your palm on its screen, and it''ll drop you into the right lobby," Violet said pointing towards the flowing river. He started toward the cluster but Violet stopped him. "It''ll be crowded," she suggested and began to glow. A weapon appeared in his holster and he smiled to himself. That little transformation magic would probably never grow old to him.


    It took a minute for him to get inside an elevator. The players walked in a clockwise circle upon entering and swiped their hand over a screen as they passed. He followed their example, and the monitor beeped once at him. Two more people climbed in after him before the doors closed and it started down.


    "Lobby 22," the elevator said in a chirpy robotic voice. The doors opened onto a small lounge and four people pushed from the congested elevator.


    "Lobby 38," it said next and three more people got off.


    "Lobby 49," the voice chirped, and he exited along with one other person. Several plush couches were set up around a group of screens which all displayed the words, "Please wait."


    Max slouched into a chair near the corner of the room, while the other man took a seat facing the elevator. He was average sized with long blond hair, a gray uniform, and a Desert Eagle tucked under one arm. He turned green eyes on Max, scanning him in return. The elevator opened and four more people joined them. Most still wore the outfits given at character creation, but a few had jackets on. Max drew his pistol from the holster, and the other players immediately turned to him, but he only press-checked the weapon. The extractor, technically, served as a loaded chamber indicator, but physically checking was an old habit. He pushed the slid back until there was a sliver of brass cartridge visible. Satisfied, he returned the pistol within the holster.


    The man with the Desert Eagle took out his weapon from a bulky shoulder holster. He went so far as to rack the slide on his gun, and a chubby .50 caliber American Express cartridge landed on the lounge carpet. Flustered, he bent to pick it up, and the handgun went off like a naval cannon in the small room. The bullet narrowly missed another meister''s head and shattered a television screen.


    "Sorry, sorry," he gushed as several players drew their weapons. Max''s hand was on his pistol''s grip ready to draw. "I know. You keep telling me about the trigger thing." The guy whispered under his breath. After a few awkward moments, he put the magnum back in the holster and snapped the leather closed.


    "Don''t kill anyone until the game starts," Violet warned, and he turned his head, but no one was there. It was the second time he''d experienced her talking into his eardrum. "From your reaction, I figured someone did something stupid. It''s dismally normal for new Meisters to have a couple of accidents." She said and he continued to look around.


    "I can speak to you in this form, and only you can hear me." Violet added as the elevator door opened.


    "Wooah, looks like the shootings already started," a woman said walking into the lounge. She popped a piece of gum and sauntered in like she owned the place. "Nice to meet ya''ll. I feel a little bad cause this ain''t my first character." She added settling against the wall. The blond had shoved herself into a tight pair of blue jeans with an army green tank top. The sides of her head were shaved while the top was shoulder length. Max didn''t see her weapon, which meant she was concealing it be leaning against the wall.


    The psychological trick was wasted effort on him, but judging by the other expressions, it must be working. The awkward silence that followed was eventually broken by the elevator opening again. Several more people walked in, and the world grew dark. There were a few moments of disorientation, but bright white text floated in the void.


    [Match Starting]


    Green foliage covered everything. Max stood next to a broken light post, and poison ivy crawled up the iron pole. The cracked concrete under his feet was so bad that weeds concealed much of the gray stone. A dozen feet away was a faded street sign, and judging by the unreadable script, he was somewhere in Europe. Turning entirely around he saw a red transparent wall crossing the street and bisecting a petrol station. Max wasn''t going to touch that energy barrier, because the crackling red field screamed, ¡®die, fucker, die.''


    Rusted out cars and trucks littered the ruined parking lot. A squirrel was sitting on a white BMW, chewing on a nut, and eyeballing Max without a care in the world. Two gunshots rang out in the distance, and the squirrel scampered through the broken car window. Max turned toward the sound as well. It hadn''t been too far away.


    His fingers closed around the grip of the pistol and drew it from the holster. The weapon and the 17 rounds was a hefty reassuring weight in his hand. He crouched slightly and slowly weaved between the cars, moving toward the sound of gunfire. Those two rounds had been fast and final. Nothing had happened afterward so he could only assume they''d killed their target.


    He passed the petrol station and wandered into an overgrown alley. Plants struggled up the south-facing wall, but the weeds were shorter in the building''s shadow. Keeping the weapon at the low ready, he jogged through the knee high plants. He paused, leaning against the brick building. Two bullets slammed into the wall next to him, and he flinched back around the corner. The two flashes had come from a cafe across the street.


    Usually, he''d retreat, but the darkened interior had given him a good bead on the shooter. Raising his weapon, Max slowly inched out of cover and peered out. A woman in blue jeans was running up the street. She was already halfway down the block when he returned fire. His first bullet shattered a shop window, the second struck a parked car, but his third caught the girl in the back. She staggered briefly before turning the street corner and ran out of sight.


    "Could have sworn I hit a lung," he harrumphed.


    "9mm bullets do light damage, so it often takes multiple shots to ensure a kill. That''s especially true against high endurance Meisters. You''ll need three bullets to the torso."


    "I see," he said lowering the pistol.


    Max walked up the street until he saw blood on the ground which continued down the sidewalk before crossing the street. He waited a few seconds, crouched behind a delivery truck. Finally, he rose and followed the blood trail down the second alley between a pizza place and Chinese restaurant. A green dumpster was shared between the two. Max was only twenty feet away when the lid of the dumpster cracked open, and a pistol pointed in his direction. Both traded shots. Her unaimed rounds struck the wall about ten feet to his left. Max''s made six holes in dumpster''s side, and the woman''s pistol dropped to the ground.


    Max checked his surroundings ensuring the alley was clear before moving forward. He stopped a foot from the dumpster and lifted the lid with his free hand. Inside was a composted mess and one bullet-riddled corpse. She lay against the front corner, eyes closed, arm sticking out of the side.


    "How long is this supposed to take?" He asked putting his back to the wall and reloaded the pistol again.


    "Twenty minutes, you should hear the half-time buzzer shortly," Violet replied.


    About a minute later a clipped air siren went off. Max glanced as an invisible god blasted an airhorn overhead. The red wall also started moving faster, something he hadn''t noticed before. The thing inched inexorably across the street from the direction he''d come. It seemed to him there were two basic strategies. One was the follow the wall in as it shrank, and the other was to head directly for the center. The first would ensure nobody got behind him, while the other would let him prepare his defense.


    He and the woman had been the only active combatants¡ªso far. The others seemed content to wait, so they''d probably be forced to move when the wall did. He wandered away from the energy barrier and down the alley. There he remained, listening for movement which wasn''t hard in the eerily quiet. Max caught the sound of labored breathing. Not from exhaustion but a heart pumping madly from fear. He stopped again, cocking his head toward a news van maybe ten feet away. There a moldy weather-beaten satellite dish sat atop like a withered stalk of corn. The front passenger window was busted out, and he could see no one was in the cab. The back of the van had no windows, just a logo for a local television station. The muffled sound of breathing came from inside.


    Well, they had to know a gunfight just happened less than a block away, which would explain why they were breathing so hard.


    Max crept around the back of the van making sure to give it a wide birth. He aimed low at the gas cap and fired. The bullet struck the truck in the side and through the thin aluminum. Fuel, the color of bean burrito diarrhea, began to leak out onto the ground. Inside the van, there was a loud male scream as bullet punched through the back doors. Five, ten, fourteen bullet holes appeared in the back door in rapid succession. By now a small puddle of old gasoline had formed under the van. He aimed at the ground and fired. The bullet skipped off the concrete which sparked, and the gas caught fire. The flame raced over the puddle, then up into the tank, and the whole van was in flames. The back doors flew open, and a man on fire rolled out onto the ground. He was lean bodied with spiky blond hair and a good pair of lungs on him. Max put three bullets into his chest as he rolled across to the ground screaming.


    "Good to know," he mused stepping back from the burning vehicle. Max had only hoped to scare the guy into jumping from the van, but that had worked out even better. His second option was to empty the mag into the backdoor. All and all, it was an excellent experiment. Behind him, the vehicle collapsed as each tire exploded. He stopped at the nearby intersection and crouched next to another car.


    The energy barrier seemed to be moving a bit faster now. It had crossed over the dumpster with the girl and followed him partly down the alley. About four blocks away, the other side of the circle slowly advanced, but it was hard to see past all the abandoned vehicles littering the street. There were maybe six minutes left as the circle herded everyone together. Max admired the simple system, which kept people from just sitting there all game.


    Max hit the mag release popping the partial into his waiting hand. He felt along his belt until his fingers closed on a fresh mag, brought it out and performed a combat reload, then shoved the partially empty mag into his pocket. For a few seconds, he chewed his lower lip as he considered what to do next. Should he preemptively head into the middle, then wait for the circle to bring everyone to him? After waffling for a minute, Max stood and began weaving between the cars. Nobody took a shot at him, not even as he reached the second intersection. Max was more-or-less where the match would end.


    Bullets rang out about a block away, and Max turned to see two men firing at one another down the street. One had a giant chrome Desert Eagle which is what shattered the quiet reverie. A second man cowered behind a taxi cab and fired blindly over the trunk.


    Max moved to put a two-door sedan between himself and the men. The guy by the taxi was still firing over the trunk, while Mr. Deagle attempted to reload his magnum with shaking hands. He succeeded, finally, and stood from the planter he was hiding behind. The man by the taxi was cursing and digging in his pockets for more bullets, which fell out like gold coins and started rolling away. The USP lay on the ground while he desperately shoved bullets into his only magazine. Mr. Deagle jumped the planter and sprinted into the street, then skidded across the hood of the taxi firing his weapon. Heavy handgun bullets chewed up the already broken blacktop. Both men stared at one another before the first grabbed his fallen USP.


    So there they were, within touching distance from each other scrambling to reload first. Max waited to see how things turned out but did spend the time setting up a shot. He could see both in the middle of the street, so he rested his forearms on the car''s hood.


    The man with the USP was, at first, trying to shove the mag in backward, but still managed to beat Mr.Deagle to the reload. Realizing this he dropped his gun and jumped forward. Both men fought for the black pistol before it went off with a muted bang. Max waited while the two men stared at each other like long lost lovers. Then Mr.Deagle slowly slid to the cracked blacktop, blood pooling around his body.


    The second sat, shock written on his face before he grinned like a madman. He looked like a kid who''d gotten the GI Joe he always wanted for Christmas, so Max gave him two seconds to enjoy that feeling. Then he slowly squeezed the trigger, and the Glock barked. The happy, victorious smile was still on the guy''s face as the side of his head exploded. He collapsed atop the other player in a lovers spoon.


    Max scanned the different avenues of approach, currently empty which was good because he''d been distracted by the firefight. The circle was only a block away and more players would soon appear. Seconds ticked by on the final minutes of the game. He kept his head on a swivel looking for enemy players. The energy wall was barely half a block away when someone fired several shots followed by a foreboding silence.


    Nearby, the glass door to a shop shattered and a man climbed into the street just ahead of the death wall. Max moved to place the car between himself and the new target. He aimed while the guy sprinted forward, and his first bullet missed, but the two follow up shots dropped him before he reached cover.


    A bullet shattered the car window next to Max, and he dove sideways as more rounds punched into the driver side door. Someone had come out of the alley about fifty feet away while his back was turned and was running towards the car filled intersection. Max rolled onto his side and took at aim at a pair of legs as they skidded to a stop behind a nearby vehicle. The gun barked again, and blood sprayed from a shot to the thigh. His target jerked sideways falling backward. Max could sometimes notice little things, especially at the oddest times, and a pair of bright red eyes looked back him. That didn''t stop Max from pumping four more rounds into guy''s lower torso. As his target collapsed to the ground, darkness closed in.


    [Match Complete]

 Dumped

    Max floated in the void for only a few seconds before a door slid open. Laughter filled the small private lounge while two men, both red-faced with chagrined embarrassment were standing to one side. On the main screen was a short video playing on loop.


    "You guys were so bad," a bulky blond haired man laughed. "literally, bam-bam-bam and nothing, not one hit." He mimed the action by firing an imaginary gun sideways at another player.


    "It was like watching an action movie until they started shooting," another added returning fire.


    "Oi! At least they joined the party. Half you fish never showed at the end. Did you just let the circle roll over you?" The woman in jeans barked in a south Bronx accent. Then gave everyone a long glare and at least three players turned away.


    "Fuckin'' losers!" She spat then turned toward Max was a surprisingly bright smile. The woman pointing back at him and added, "Now this mutha'' steamrolled everyone. I should''a guessed there was another smurf, but I thought you were acting tough. Knew you were something special when you hugged that brick wall, so I took a pop shot and bailed."


    "If I were you, I''d have hidden behind the dumpster, not in it," Max said stepping further into the room.


    "Ya¡­ I let the adrenaline take my head," she admitted standing from the couch. Her eyes slid over his jeans and tank top, noted his pistol mags with keen interest.


    "What division were you?"


    "No comment," he replied dryly.


    "Gold, probably. You wouldn''t have started over if you were any higher," she muttered walking towards the elevator. It opened at her approached, and she stepped aboard. "I''m going to wait a grip before joining another match. I want to win one today, maybe, so tootles kids," she finished with a wave, then swiped a hand across the screen.


    Max and the other players followed her example, and they quickly ascended. It dumped the group out into the crowded competition lobby. Most of the other players wandered off toward the lounge, but Max saw no reason to wait for another match. He made a b-line toward the nearest console but was stopped halfway there.


    "Hey, you were in the Halloween event, right?" A stranger asked grabbing his elbow. Max turned to see a vaguely familiar face with a Cuban cigar stuck between his lips. The man had a sombrero slanted over his brow, and a dark poncho thrown over one shoulder. Leather chaps half covered his dark blue jeans, and cowboy action holster hung empty on his hip. A woman with snow-white hair was hugging the man''s bicep from behind.


    "Umm, hello again."


    "You got the golden egg. Damn you!" He cursed before calming himself. "I finally made it past the spider, only to discover it was missing from the pool. By then all the other eggs had been found."


    "What of it?"


    "I wanted to pack twin pistols like a gunslinger," the man said wrapping an arm around the white-haired woman. "Blanca here has an identical sister, and¡­ you know how it is¡ª"


    "Get on with it," Max interrupted. The man shrugged, pulled the cigar from his mouth and pointed it at Max.


    "I want to buy your account."


    Max looked at the man again who¡¯d obviously spent his starting credits dressing himself up. The pancho, the low hanging leather gunbelt. He looked like an actor out of some old western movie. Maybe he was a touch stupid or eccentric. In either case, he might have money.


    "For how much?" Max asked in an indifferent tone.


    "A thousand US dollars," the man replied as if the money were nothing to him.


    "I might be interested," Max admitted running a hand over his chin. He kept his face passive, but that was a sizable chunk of money.


    "You''re not serious?" Violet asked in a dark, brooding voice. The weapon flashed and the purple haired woman appeared at his side. Her eyes were already sparkling with storm clouds, and he could sense violence on the wind.


    "It''s a possibility."


    "You can always re-contract with her on your new account." The man suggested helpfully. "That''s what I was going to do with Blanca and Nieve."


    "I can''t believe you, Max. You were doing well, and even won your first match," she growled ignoring the cowboy''s words. Violet stepped dangerously close to Max, which should have been a warning sign. He smiled at her.


    "Think about it. This is win-win for both of us. You obviously don''t like me, and you can add another skull to the collection. I''ll get a new account that''ll pay for itself."


    "You bastard," she hissed pushing him backward, and he stumbled. Then Violet grabbed the collar around her throat and tore the plastic device off. She glowed with yellow light, and a magazine appeared in the air. It hung suspended for a second then shattered into pixels against the black tile floor. Max stared at her in dumbfounded bewilderment.


    "What the fu¡ª" he started, but Violet turned and stalked toward the exit.


    "Wow, Gringo, how about we talk about this later?" The man suggested. He quickly dodged toward the gaming lounge leaving Max to wrap his head around what just happened. Had he just been dumped? And after all that talk in the apartment, too. There had been zero build up to the explosion.


    "Well, shit¡­" he groaned jogging after Violet. Even with purple hair, it was impossible to find the woman in the growing crowd of players and weapons. For about twenty minutes he walked around the parking lot looking for her beat up car, but to no avail.


    Pride wounded, Max went back into the competition center, and over to the lounge. He located an empty booth and slid inside. Meisters filled the tables, chatting about the game and laughing with one another, but he starred off into space. Without Violet he doubted he''d be able to find the penthouse on his own, so he had no place to sleep tonight. All he had were his clothes, an empty holster and a couple of partially full magazines.


    He supposed there was no reason ¡®not'' to sell his account. Violet hadn¡¯t even given him to chance to tell the guy no. Bloody girl was like a stick of dynamite with zero fuse. There was a console connected to the table and Max discovered he could order a pint of beer via the interface. It charged him a couple of credits, but someone soon showed up with his drink. He disdained the glasses, grabbing the pitcher¡¯s handle and drained the mug.


    Four hours later he was ten pints deep and stone-cold sober. He supposed it was a good thing since alcoholism ran in the family, but it was an unfortunately side effect of living in a virtual world. Thankfully, the time had passed quickly thanks to the competition matches going on. At any given time he could flip through a hundred live games. He still had trouble imaging this game had lost almost 50% of its player base.


    He stopped to watch a whole squad of teenage girls. The invisible camera followed them as they stacked on the doorway, and Max was able to see the battle from a third person perspective. A pink haired woman pulled a flash grenade from her belt and yanked the pin out. Another blew the lock off with a breaching round, and the door swung open. The first rolled the flash inside. The entry was seconds too soon as bullets pinged off the lead girl''s ballistic shield just as a flashbang exploded. The woman blindly returned fire on a man hiding in the corner using a small automatic pistol. Bullet holes stitched the old couch sending plooms of stuffing into the air. The first fight was a ploy, and a good one. Six grenades bounced down the stairs behind the entry fragger. The explosions rocked the room and shredded the air in a tornado of shrapnel. As he drank, the man in chaps and a poncho slid into the opposite seat.


    "I saw that purpled haired girl and another woman walking around looking for you," he said as a woman in silk slit dress slid in next. Max put the mug down and eyed the man in annoyance. He put up his hands in surrender and added, "Sorry about earlier, but I''d still like your account if you''re interested."


    "Why not just wait to rank up?"


    "That''s the rub. I''d put Blanca up against any handgun, but at Silver Rank, you need a primary weapon to compete. I''d have to wait until gold or later. That''s not acceptable, so I''d like an account with an extra contract slot." He said slipping an arm around the white-haired weapon next to him. She shifted in the seat and hugged his waist.


    "I was informed that extra contract slots are unique. Thanks, but I''m not interested in the money."


    "How about fifteen hundred?"


    "Still no," he said activating the console and ordered another pint of beer.


    "You could use that money to play the game for years."


    "Find another Meister to bother," Max said flicking his hand toward the lounge exit. "There should be like four other players with an additional contract. Try them," he suggested as the next beer arrived. The other Meister sighed and slid from the booth leaving him alone to his thoughts.


    Barely five minutes passed before two women approached his booth. Max picked up his pint, and purposely ignore the new occupants. They stood there awkwardly as he drained the pint.


    "Bugger off," he belched punching the console for another drink.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just go, Friday.¡± Violet said in a cool clipped voice.


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t let you do this again. Remember, Haley and Greg, both of them weren¡¯t bad Meisters and you chased them off.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see you¡¯re point.¡±


    ¡°I love you, Violet, but you purposely sabotage yourself.¡±


    ¡°I do not.¡±


    ¡°Would you have put up with that same behavior from a Meister?¡± Friday asked but didn¡¯t give the other woman and a chance to answer. ¡°Of course not, which is why I dragged you back here to talk.¡± She looked like she was winding up for a long tirade, but Max was quickly growing tired of their banter.


    "Shouldn''t you be at the tattoo parlor?" He asked irritably, and Friday leaned closer.


    "Violet called and told me what happened. Is it true?"


    "Some guy offered cash for my account," Max said finally looked at them. Friday was angelic even without her halo and wings. She was dressed in a light summer dress again and had her hair pinned up like a mother about to bake cookies. The other woman looked bitter at having been dragged back here. "Violet stormed off before I turned him down. I figured the woman had some baggage, so I teased her on purpose. I didn''t expect that response. No sane person would, and now I understand why she''s gone through so many Meisters."


    "Doesn¡¯t change the fact you¡¯re going to leave." Violet replied harshly, and Max turned his attention on the purple haired woman. Her eyes were red and black mascara was smeared across her cheek.


    "You¡¯re right. I poked your buttons because I didn''t know if I would stay, but thankfully, that question has been answered," Max said, letting the sentence float in the air for a second.


    "No," he added flatly. ¡°I¡¯m only hanging out long enough to cool off. Then I¡¯ll log out and find something else to occupy my time.¡±


    "Having a Meister is a difficult topic for us. We need¡ª"


    "You keep saying you need to be used." Max interrupted. "Well, I''m a soldier without a war. I was someone important, someone who kicked in doors and put down monsters. I did things that nobody will ever know about, and now, now I have nothing to live for. I''m just a collection of ones and zeroes floating between blade-servers. The kicker, the fuckin¡¯ thing that gets me is the fact I can''t remember what I''ve been up to for the last four months." Max growled shoving the empty pint away from himself. It skidded into the others like a bowling ball and several crashed to the floor.


    "You''re a Ghost?"


    "The real world might as well be a distant memory. I woke up in a weird world with boats floating on rivers of data, and hundreds of strange looking people. I came here to figure out what to do with myself. Only I got handed a bunch of drama I don''t need." He said glancing at Violet angrily.


    "It''s only your first day in Gun Meister, stay."


    "What would be the point? You''d still have that question in the back of your heads. Is this the month he gets bored of us? No¡­ go back to your penthouse, your dog, and your search for a decent Meister. Violet is right, it isn''t me."


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    "Many people only see the competition matches and the tactical combat, but Gun Meister is more than a game. Try it. Try to live in this world." Friday suggested, and Violet finally returned his gaze.


    "Besides, how is the real world any better than this one?" Violet added reluctantly. Max didn''t have an answer to that so he kept silent. He turned his gaze back to the many monitors and the players in combat. For almost a minute he watched them toss grenades back and forth like party favors.


    ¡°We¡¯ve never been with a Digital Citizen. It¡¯s new for us. Your reluctance to settle down is understandable, but please come back. Give Violet another chance," Friday begged reaching over and grabbing his hand. Her fingers were soft and warm in his. Max glanced down into her eyes which were on the brink of spilling tears. He was never good with women, especially ones with drama attached.


    ¡°Fuck it,¡± he sighed. "I''m willing to this another shot, but it''ll be on my terms," Max added pulling his hand free.


    "If you really don''t want me, I can introduce you to several pistols. One is a fellow Glock and the second is a Sig Sauer," Violet offered, but Max shook his head.


    "Thanks, but I''ll manage."


    "You can stay in the guest room," Friday said glancing at Violet. Both of them did that communicate by eye thing again.


    "Hmmm, only if I can rent the room. After all, I''m not Violet''s Meister anymore, so I don''t want to be tossed out the next time she throws a fit." Max said and the woman crossed her arms over her chest defensively. Friday put a calming hand on her lovers arm.


    "We''d be happy to host you for thirty-thousand a month, but you have to buy your own food. In exchange, you are guaranteed at least 72 hours warning."


    "Wow, you quickly turned mercenary," he said looking over the copper-haired angel. She smiled at him with those Innocent green eyes.


    "Credits are always short around the penthouse. Violet and I both like nice things, but it''s hard to scrape together ninety-thousand every month." She said, and Max glanced between the pair. They were going out of their way to find him. He supposed that helped bandage over the scene from earlier.


    "Hmmm, Thirty-K? Kind of steep considering it''s only a guest room, but do I have to come up with all at once?" Max asked leaning forward. He did win a match, so he had some cash, but certainly not an entire months worth.


    "Ten-thousand a week will be fine."


    "I have that on me right now. How do I give it to you."


    "You can either buy a cash card at the mall or transfer the credits with the console," Friday said leaning forward touching the screen. She quickly navigated the menu''s until she found a trade window, then placed her palm on the display. Max pressed his on the other side and typed in the amount he wanted to send over.


    "Why don''t you ride home with Violet. I''m sure you both have a few extra things to talk about." Friday said slipping from the booth. Max was tempted to decline, but Friday had a point. The pistol and he had some shit to sort out.


    He slid from the booth and followed the weapon to her car. There was a new dent in the rear passenger side panel that was suspiciously hand shaped. Violet slid into the driver seat and started the engine, but didn''t immediately back out.


    "I don''t know how I can properly apologize," she said and he let his eyes roam down her body.


    You could put that emotional baggage away, he thought but kept that opinion to himself.


    "I wasn''t going to make any false promises just to ease your mind," he said keeping his gaze fixed on her face. Violet closed the distance, inching into his personal space.


    "I have a habit, I''m told, of pushing Meisters way. You impressed me more than I cared to admit, and I overreacted."


    "Just a touch," he drolled. Violet shifted closer again and a hand slid over his thigh. "I was frightened you''d leave, or worse, someone would be in your place. The thought of it made me so¡­ mad."


    "So you broke our contract? Honestly, that doesn''t make any sense." Max said keeping his hands to himself. She gripping and kneading his thigh with her powerful fingers, and his treasonous body began to respond. Still, he tried to keep his poker face on.


    "Do you want someone else?" Violet asked biting her lip.


    "I''m not happy with you, but I''ll stick things out," Max said taking her hand off his leg and placing it emphatically on the steering wheel. Violet bit her lip, but nodded, and backed out of the stall. After a moment he added, "I''m going to take Friday''s advice and enjoy myself in Gun Meister. Give me a few days and we''ll see."


    Violet rolled her eyes dramatically and hit the accelerator. Max supposed he owed her something. Let her knew he understood her situation. Max waited until they were on the road before he began his story. His childhood wasn''t something he talked about often; in fact, he preferred to leave the memories buried in the past.


    "My father was pretty normal. He taught us how to play football, went to our games, and did his best in a rough world. Only¡­ he liked to drink, and when he did, dad got mean. The more wasted he got, the more violent he became." Max said scanning the street as they passed the mall. Hundreds of players and weaponry were walking toward the competition center. Max eyed them jealously. All had women and weapons hanging from them like battlefield kings. Violet glanced at him, expression full of weary understanding, and he was glad Friday hadn''t been here with her kindness¡­ and her pity. That was the last thing he wanted.


    "There was a bad winter, and I remember it being miserable that year. He''d been sick from work, but they told him they''d fire him if he didn''t come in. As an adult, I can admit it was unfair. A lot of people caught the bug that winter. As usual, he drank to relieve the stress. One beer turned into two and before long the neighbors could hear the screaming. Wasn''t the first time they called the cops on us." Max said keeping his eyes forward as they waited for the stoplight. Max took a second to fortify himself. The memories were old enough that the scars were long since healed over, but it was something he didn''t talk about.


    "This time though the officers saw the bloody noses and bruised faces on us kids. They hauled his ass off to jail, all the while, mom begging them not too. I wouldn''t say she was a victim because she could be just as nasty in her own way. That day she''d earned her fair share of lumps."


    "You have siblings?"


    "A younger brother and sister," Max said glancing at the woman again. "Anyway, I knew deep down this was going to be the prelude of a bad blowup. Mom refused to press charges so the cops would keep him for 72 hours. Long enough that he''d lose several more days of work¡ª"


    "So they fired him," Violet interrupted turning into the parking lot. Max glanced at her, then away, and nodded.


    "The cycle would repeat, and I said ¡®fuck no'' that. The next morning I went down to the recruiter offices in town. The Army and Marines offered me numbers for abuse counseling which was worthless to me, but I''m sure they didn''t want to touch that problem. The Navy recruiter looked at my swollen face and said there was a transport leaving in two days. I had just turned eighteen so before the weekend was over, I was on a bus to basic training. My life in the military began, and I never looked back."


    "What about your siblings?" Violet asked in a slightly accusatory tone. Max glanced at her, but she was busy pulling up to the building.


    "Will was a year younger, so he couldn''t just flee to the military. I found out later Pa broke his leg when he got out which cut off that option anyway. The little shit turned into a mirror image of the old man. Drugs, lots of alcohol, and a complete inability to hold a job, but he found a woman willing to marry him. My sister got married at fifteen. She bumped into a rich tycoon who liked pretty young girls. Took her on his cruise ship to a country that allowed that kind thing. It''s been years, but last I heard she was sipping Mai-Tai''s in the Caribbean and arranging another girl for her husband." Max said glancing at Violet. Her eyes shifted between the road and his face.


    "I feel sorry for her," Violet said, and Max snorted briefly.


    "My brother''s an addict, I murdered people for the government, and my sister spread her legs for a hideously rich magnate. I think she ended up the best out of us three." He replied in a matter of fact tone. His sister knew her place in the world and had no complaints. At least, none she cared to tell Max about. Violet turned the car off, but neither made a move to get out just yet.


    "Now I see why you told me to fuck off," Violet said turning to face him completely. They looked at one another across the small space.


    "I don''t know what kind of abuse you suffered at the hands of Derek, but I have a good idea," he admitted pushing the passenger door open. Max climbed out and slammed the rusty door closed. "You''re not a total loss. I think you were looking for an excuse to leave, but it didn''t seem malicious. "


    "I was angry and afraid," Violet replied, and the two looked at each other over the cars rusty top.


    "I''m glad you can admit that. Friday trusts you, and that speaks volumes, so I''ll stick around." Max said following the woman into the apartment lobby.


    "Don''t expect me to start acting like her," Violet said as they entered the elevator. Max knew that it would be like turning a wolf into a deer. She pressed her palm on the display screen, and it rose quickly.


    The apartment smelled like oatmeal cookies as they entered. Friday and Rusty were watching an episode of ¡®House on the Prairie'' while a timer softly ticked down nearby. Violet crossed the room and the two women kissed briefly. The golden retriever barked jealously and she patted him on the head.


    "This is a great episode. Do you wanna join?" Friday asked. Max glanced at the old black and white show playing on the screen. He''d never seen it but remembered them as a ¡®high morality'' drama. Charles with his big mane of brown hair was fixing the battery of an old codger. Despite the fact, he''d drive past the man


    "Not tonight," Max replied leaving the girls to themselves and wandered into his guest room. The room was dark, and he flicked the light switch. The bed was still rumpled from his laying on it last night. Pulling his gunbelt off, he tossed it into the corner along with his shoes. The shirt and pants he dropped on the floor next to the bed as he climbed onto it. He could hear them talking out in the living room.


    Twenty minutes later there was a tentative knock on the door.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Max called and it opened. Friday dressed in pink pajama¡¯s and a silk top entered the room.


    ¡°Thank you for coming back,¡± she said coming around the bed. Violet appeared in the doorway next dressed in nothing but black panties.


    ¡°No problem,¡± he replied.


    ¡°We talked it through. Violet is still on the fence, but has agreed let you stay.¡± Friday added sitting on the mattress. Max tried not to stare the cleavage her silk top exposed.


    "I still think you''re going to leave, they all do," Violet said crossing her arms over her chest. A pair of soft hands cupped his face and he was forced to look into Friday¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Are you really a ghost?¡± Friday asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m so freshly turned that I probably smell like new car.¡±


    ¡°Then I hope you find this world full of opportunity.¡± Friday said reaching into her top and fished a silver key from between her breast. "This is for you," she added putting the warm metal object into his palm. Then closed his fingers around it meaningfully. Before he could reply, she rolled from the bed. Her hips swayed as she crossed the carpet like an erotic dancer, before pausing at the doorway to look back at him. The woman gave him a tight smile before disappearing.

 Avast!

    Max woke to a bronze covered dog sitting on his chest. It''s red tongue lulling from a drool filled mouth. The animal barked at him once more, then licked his cheek again, before jumping from the bed. He sat up, watching as the animal padded from the room.


    "Thanks for the welcome," he said wiping the slobber from his face. He climbed from bed and quickly pulled his jeans and tank top on.


    Friday wore a short orange summer dress that matched her hair. Violet was already seated on the same stool as yesterday, though today she wore no pants. A short black leather jacket covered a fishnet blouse, while the high cut skirt barely reached her pale thighs. Max saddled up to her and sat on the stool next to hers.


    "You look ready for a night out on the town," Max said letting his eyes slide down her barely concealed chest to her long legs. He especially liked the amount of skin on display. She uncrossed then recrossed her long legs, and Max was momentarily distracted by the sight of her black lace panties. He dragged his eyes up to here which glittered with a knowing look.


    "Work outfit," she said playfully putting a hand on his cheek and turning his face away.


    "What are your plans?" Friday asked in reply.


    "Figured I''d wander around today, maybe visit the competition center," Max said giving the other woman a broad smile.


    "Do you want a ride?" Friday asked, but Max shook his head.


    "We''re not that far from the city center, and I was paying attention last night."


    "You sure?" she asked, and he smiled again.


    "Thanks, but I''ll walk," Max said hopping off the stool. He wasn''t hungry today, so he went into the guest bathroom to shower. After dunking under the scalding water, Max toweled off and went to get dressed. The empty holster and mag pouches he left sitting on the nightstand but did slip the belt on. Then he laced up his combat boots before walking back into the penthouse. Friday bent over as Rusty whined pawing at the fridge.


    "But we''re out of sausages," Friday said in a plaintive voice. "You ate them all yesterday; remember." The dog sank to the floor in a dejected heap and Friday rubbed his head. Violet watched the action as she ate her bagel.


    "We''ll go shopping after work," she said noticing Max. The woman stood and gave him a wave goodbye, which Max returned. Rusty resorted to padding around the counter and begging Violet for food. The two stared at one another before Violet swallowed the last of her bagel.


    He strode through the entryway. The elevator opened and he took it down to the first floor. The late fall morning was chilly, and fog rolled across the ground in thick patchy banks. The sun was just over the horizon and it wouldn''t be long before the streets cleared. Max stretched feeling the morning light caress his face. Then he patted his empty pocket, remembering the key Violet had given him.


    "Shoot," he muttered going back into the building. The elevator dinged as it opened and he quickly touched the control screen. It asked him which floor he wanted, and he selected Penthouse. It ascended and he jogged across the welcome mat. The apartment door, thankfully, was unlocked.


    "Oohhhh," Friday cried in a high pitched shriek, which was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a slapped butt cheek. The angel''s ass was in the air, ankles tied to the support posts. A blindfold was roughly tied around her head, and her wrists were bound behind her back. The bright summer dress was heaped on the floor nearby, so her only clothing was a surprisingly risque pair of white panties.


    "You like that?" Violet asked in a syrupy voice.


    "More," the woman moaned. Black painted fingernails raked Friday''s reddening bottom, and a line of thin scratches appeared across her smooth skin. The door closed behind Max alerting the two to his entry. Violet spun to face him, but Friday shrieked again, this time in surprise. Max ignored the erotic scene and walked past them. Poor Rusty was laying on the couch looking on with some bewilderment, and Max felt for the dog. He wasn''t sure if he should protect his master, or run into the bedroom and hide. He pretended not to see anything and quickly walked into his room, fetched his keys from the nightstand, then spun about.


    Friday''s face turned away, and Violet placed herself in front of her girlfriend. Max jingled the ring with a single key for effect. "Forgot these," he added making for the door. "Didn''t want to get locked out while you two were off at work." Max slid the keyring into his pocket and gave the two girls another friendly wave.


    "Have¡­ a spanking good day," he quipped closing the apartment door. Max smirked to himself as he entered the elevator again. Well, well¡­ they were in a relationship. He supposed there might be hope for them.


    The morning fog was slowly burning off as he stepped outside. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the California sea side. He patted his pocket, like most men do after leaving the house, then set off for the mall. Sports cars and racers slid past toward the competition center. Now that he knew what to look for, the dome was visible about four blocks away. He found the main avenue, then turned away from the arena. At the slow ambling pace he set, it took him about twenty minutes to reach his destination.


    The Competition Center was mostly empty this morning, probably because it was barely nine. The clan recruiters had not arrived, so he went in unmolested. A bored looking kid was manning a convenience counter with golden eyes. He sat with elbows on the desk nodding his head sleepily. Idle Meisters sparsely populated the rest of the lobby.


    Should he wait an hour for more players to log in? He supposed he could sign up and wait for the math to fill up. He intended to run just one match, then spend the rest of the day dicking around. Friday had been right. There was no need to rush into things. So he wandered over to a console and slapped the screen. It activated, and he selected [Quick Deathmatch] from the list.


    "Please enter Lobby 89," it said, and his lips parted in a feral grin. Later he could figure out what to do about his living situation, but for now, he was going to have some fun. He slowly walked to the bank of elevators, then stepped in.


    The private lounge was empty, so he sat down in a free couch. The first player to join came in about five minutes later, and soon more joined them. Almost all were wearing the same gray uniform, and only one other person had bothered to change clothes ¡ª a good sign, in his opinion. Max closed his eyes relaxing into the couch. Twenty minutes later, the lounge filled, and the world faded to black.


    [Match Started]


    Light struggled past the overgrown front windows to reveal a dust covered map under his feet. To his left, a concierge counter and a sign pointing him towards the gold membership express line. Max was surprised. He had been here once on a three week trip to Las Vegas, so he immediately recognized the lobby entrance for Treasure Island. He walked to the windows. Outside the palm trees formed a small jungle, and two galleon sailing ships were anchored in the manmade lake.


    Across the street was the Palazzo hotel, and a red wall cut across its parking lot. From what Max could tell the circle pretty much encompassed Treasure Island resort. So it was more than likely everyone would be spawning in or around the building.


    He walked unhurriedly through the lobby, unconsciously following the red dotted line toward the casino. Everything was in surprisingly good shape despite the state of apparent decay. Dusty slot machines stood like toy soldiers in seven orderly ranks. In the center of the amassed army was a circular bar and he hopped the counter. Most of the bottles had fallen from the shelf and shattered, but a couple of survivors lingered.


    One such bottle was a skull-shaped bottle of vodka. Max plucked it down, pulled the cork out, and sniffed the contents. His nose hairs curled from the alcohol, and he nodded in satisfaction. Max set about ripping cloth strips from the bottom of his shirt. He soaked the cloth with spirits before stuffing a majority into the bottle''s mouth. With one extra he tied the bundle together so they wouldn''t fall out.


    His next problem was acquiring flame, but thankfully, among the bar''s ruined shelves was a whole basket of black hotel matches. He picked one up and opened the flap. The inside label warned him of the dangers of tobacco, which could ¡ªgasp¡ª cause him lung cancer and other long term health hazards. He plucked one from the row and struck it across the strip. It flared but failed to catch and he tried several more. None were willing to surge into fiery self-destruction, and Max solved this problem by using two matchbooks and striking all the heads at once. He touched the surging fire against the molotov''s cloth. It caught quickly burning a bright incandescent blue color, and he smiled again.


    It was a good thing he''d set that van on fire earlier; else he''d never think to try this. It might have been possible to make more, but gunfire broke the silence. Someone had crept through the lobby following his footprints to the casino. The first bullet struck the bar counter, wood splintered and a container of grenadine exploded. The second and third were wildly off, but they did score a surviving liqueur bottle. He would have wept to see the hundred-year-old scotch splattered across the shelf.


    Snatching the flaming skull, Max ducked around the other side of the bar. Several more bullets tore through the wood shelving as he hopped the counter and sprinted toward a collection of poker tables. He caught sight of red hair between the machines as his attacker chased him.


    He needed to get his target somewhere they wouldn''t be able to dodge his single grenade. They weren''t bad this time. Who was behind him had at least a couple of games under their belt. Bullets tore into the felt table next to him, and he changed direction. Ahead of him, a stack of poker chips blew into the air. He shouldered through a set of double doors and into the resort''s restaurant. Marble tables were littered with old plates and decayed food. Max decided this was the right place, and tipped several tables over before his pursuer arrived.


    The Springfield XD appeared first. It poked one side of the door open as the player scanned for threats. Max waited until they were standing in the doorway before stepping out from cover. She fired at him, but the marble tabletop protected him long enough to hurl the skull at the player''s feet. The glass shattered and clear liquid splashed over her shoes and leather pants. The flames caught and blue fire raced up her legs.


    At first, she ignored the flames and Max was forced to duck behind the table again. Marble shattered and the giant slab collapsed. Crouching down he shifted behind cover.


    "Holy shit, Ow-ow-ow!" A girl shouted from the doorway, and Max dared peak from cover. The player was smacking her legs with one hand trying to put the flames out. The other held the XD pistol in his direction, but she was too preoccupied to notice him.


    That is Russian vodka, sweet cheeks, good luck putting that out, he thought. The blue flames quickly spread up to her thighs. She finally dropped her pistol and tried to pull her burning pants off. Rolling to the ground she began to fight with the tiny zipper. All the while she cursed like a sailor. The pants were half off when her green eyes suddenly rolled into their sockets. She went limp among the growing pool of fire and Max ran forward. He grabbed the pistol from the ground.


    As his fingers closed on the grip an angry voice filled his right ear. "Take your mits off me, pervert. You''re not my Meister." He ignored the voice because he''d already pissed off one gun. It made little difference to him whether this one disliked being used. Max attempted to press-check the pistol, but the slide refused to move.


    "Use your own pistol," the female hissed in annoyance. He aimed the weapon at the corpse and tried pulling the trigger, but that too refused to budge. He was about to drop the pistol when it vanished in a small flash of light.


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    "Jerk," she spat as a goodbye.


    So¡­ he couldn''t use other people''s guns, which was going to make this much harder. He walked away from the burning corpse and spreading flames. Max was going to need a new weapon and he figured the kitchen would be a good place to look. He wandered through the main seating area and toward the back.


    "Funny there aren''t any corpses," he mused aloud. There were signs that people had been in the middle of eating. Ancient plates of long decayed food and drinks sat molding on the tables. Decades had passed since anyone had walked through this place, but there should have been a couple of skeletons, maybe even some bones laying around. He paused next to a plate and tipped what used to be a T-bone steak onto the ground.


    The same had been true for the last match. Plenty of ruined buildings, rusting cars and overgrown vegetation, but he couldn''t recall seeing any bodies. Maybe that would have been too mature for the masses. After all, people played this to have fun.


    Max entered an industrial kitchen that was at odds with the pirate-themed resort. White tiles and polished chrome reflected the outside light from two skylights. A walk-in freezer separated two kitchen spaces.


    Max spied a cooking island and the mass of utensils hanging above it. He was halfway to it when a man wearing a skull mask rose from behind it. The pistol in his hands looked like an FN Five-Seven, and he aimed at Max. There was no place to dodge, so Max snatched open the freezer door. A dozen bullets slammed into the metal, then through the thick insulation, and made round dents on the backside. He would have ducked through the open door, but the shooting quickly ended.


    "For a guy in a death mask you sure emptied that weapon in a hurry," Max said closing the fridge door. The eyes behind that mask widened, and he fumbled at his belt for another magazine. Hanging above the oven was a vast array of knives, skewers, and other utensils. Max''s thick fingers danced across them looking for something unique. What came down was a large silver soup ladle, and Max grinned. His adversary back peddled around the island and Max jumped over the oven with his chosen weapon. He brought it down on a wrist, and the magazine dropped to the ground.


    "This might take a few blows," Max admitted as he struck the man''s face. The mask fell off. Max saw baby blue eyes and attractive adolescent features.


    "God damn, what are you, nineteen?" He asked smashing the side of his head again. The answer was unintelligible as the man-boy sagged to the floor. Behind him, the door to the restaurant pushed open and another Meister stormed in with a drawn pistol.


    Man, gunfire sure brings in the players, Max thought in annoyance. Today''s game was far different than his first match where the other Meister''s had huddled in fear. He dropped the spoon and spun sideways as bullets tore into the wall. Max grabbed the first thing that came to hand, which turned out to be a large cast-iron pan. Running sideways he raced around the second cooler. The man swung around the corner as Max raised the pan, and the first bullet struck at an angle. It dug a long groove in the metal before flying off into a wall.


    They collided and went down in a tangle. His opponent attempted to gain distant by kicking off the wall, but that gave Max room to swing the pan still in his grasp. He brought it across the man''s face with a loud clang. He instantly collapsed, and the pistol fell to the tiles, but Max let him have one more blow just to be certain. The kitchen resounded with another loud clang as the pan conformed itself to the man''s handsome features.


    Max stood triumphantly, raising the deformed weapon in admiration. The player''s shocked expression was still visible in the warped metal. It was totally unrealistic, but Max appreciated the artistic touch.


    Despite the gray uniforms, these guys weren''t the pushovers he''d expected, and they''d quickly gotten over their fear. Going back over to the kitchen tools he selected the largest meat cleaver on the rack. The surface had a patina of rust, but the edge drew blood when he ran a thumb across it. He opened the back entrance and was confronted with a red wall of crackling energy not five feet away. From somewhere above, there was a loud buzzer. That meant the circle would close somewhere in the resort.


    Max jogged back into the restaurant only to find the air filled with smoke. A blaze was hungrily consuming everything in sight. Worse still, it cut off the route back into the casino. Max used his new blade to cut a scrap from a nearby table cloth and wrapped it around his face. It took almost three minutes of wasted time to find stairwell for employees. The first, second and third floor were all locked, and he sprinted up the levels until he reached an open doorway. By then the circle was slowly chasing him out into a hallway. He raced down it and came out onto a lounge overlooking the pirate cove.


    A steel cable connected the building to the bird''s nest of the nearest ship and was covered with a hundred or so decorative flags. Max pressed himself to glass and saw six heavy bolts anchoring the cable to the wall. He quickly grabbed a chair, lifting it over his head, and threw it against the window. Glass shattered and fresh air blew across his face. Behind him, the eager flames raced toward him and the new source of oxygen.


    Max fought with his gun belt until he worked the loop free of his pants. He leaned out of the glass and threw one end over the cable. Grabbing both sides, Max jumped into space and instantly picked up speed. He did his best to ignore the flags and pendants slapping his face as he quickly slid down the zip line. He slammed into the Mainsail mast with enough force to temporarily stun him. He managed by dumb luck to fall into the crow''s nest where he lay stunned for the better part of a minute. Dull, insistent pain throbbed across his chest from two broken ribs.


    Groaning in pain, Max pulled himself up using the railing and looked over. Far below four people were shooting at one another. A tall gangly man with a dark goatee was hiding behind the captain''s wheel and taking pot shots across the deck. Two more were hiding behind barrels on the foredeck, while a third hung onto a rope in the water. The red circle was closing in on the ship, so it appeared he''d made the right choice.


    One adventurous soul darted down into the hold, and gunshots rang out below. Seconds later, an old keg of pyrotechnics went off blowing out a section of the hull. Fire raced up the deck entrance, and a burning man ran up and tumbled over the side. Below, the captain and another player fired at each other from across the ship. The player in the water slowly crawled onto the deck and took the pistol from between their teeth. She turned out to be female, and Max watched her steal forward. She fired several times in quick succession, and the man behind the barrels jerked sideways as bullets slammed into his back.


    There was a loud ship breaking crack from below, and something snapped. Part of the pirate ship¡ªonce the king of the cove¡ªbegan to sink. The crows nest began to tilt and it was already leaning dangerously close to the red wall. The woman race forward to the mainsail spare. She and the captain continued to exchange fire as Max looked for a way down. He fumbled around looking for a rope, but the angle of the mast was increasing by the second. He leaned out over the nest struggling to grab a sail line. The closest one dangled almost a foot away and he swore under his breath.


    Max bit the meat cleaver between his teeth, crawled over the railing and jumped into mid hair. His fingers closed over the rope and he hung on for dear life as it started to drop. Above him, a pulley spasmed and smoked as he sailed closer and closer to red wall. Max jerked to a stop as the rope ended. The bottom of his boots just barely grazed the barrier and energy tingled up his legs like a taser. Then he was swinging back towards the pirate ship, and the woman standing by the main mast. He forced his tingling feet out ahead of him as he cleared ship''s railing.


    The female player spun towards him, eyes wide in surprise as Max''s feet slammed into her. The smaller player went flying off the deck and into the red barrier. He let go of the rope and tumbled across the wooden planks.


    "I see ya lost yer pistol, ya scurvy dog. That''s fine by me," a laughing man said from the captain''s wheel. The player jumped over the railing and landed on the main deck. Max rolled over as the pirate walked slowly toward him. The man was a tall, muscular white guy wearing jeans and a pirate hat. He waved his pistol at Max, glanced at it, then tossed the firearm over the side. It splashed into the water and disappeared from sight.


    "It''s better to do it like men, don''t you think?" The man asked with an exaggerated pirate accent. Max''s legs were sluggish to respond, but he managed to pull himself up to his feet. He reached up taking the meat cleaver from between his teeth and the pirate captain smiled.


    "A sailor after me own heart," he laughed drawing a chipped cutlass from his belt. The captain lunged forward driving his blade at Max''s face, and he just barely dodged the incredibly swift thrust.


    "Ye, ain''t bad." The man said an impressed voice.


    "You''ve got sword training?" Max asked in return. Both players slowly circled one another as the ship continued to sink.


    "Six months playing Heavenly Sword," The pirate admitted lunging forward again. Max went to dodge, but the thrust was a feint. A booted foot kicked his knee instead. Max collapsed, and he just barely rolled sideways as the tip of the cutlass dug into the wood. He slashed up with his knife, but the man expertly danced backward gaining the high ground. Max used the deck railing to stand, and glanced behind him slowly. The red wall crackled and spat with suppressed energy only a foot away.


    The man seemed content to keep his advantageous position and flicked the sword through several quick moves. Max changed tactics and hid the cleaver behind his back. Then he tried to circle sideways, but the other man cut him off. They met somewhere near the middle and Max flicked his dominant hand out.


    "Good move, but I''ve seen that one before," the other man said without his cheesy accent. The cutlas flashed like silver lightning through the air and several fingers went flying. That''s when Max''s other hand pulled the cleaver from the belt at his back. He swung as hard as he could and the other man stepped forward. The cleaver sliced into the meat and his arm fell to the deck.


    "The blind weapon swap should have guessed," the other man grunted holding up what was left of his arm. Max swept up the cutlass and drove it down between the pirate¡¯s collar bone and shoulder blade. The captain stumbled back looking at the sword, then fell backward into the red circle. Darkness closed in as he fell backward into the red circle.


    [Match Complete]


    The door opened onto a private lounge. Eight men and women were standing around the main display screen. Max walked forward along and they turned towards him. A woman with tight leather pants gave him a mixed smile.


    "That was a really awesome match, so I''m only a little annoyed I got taken out early. Good idea with the Molotov. I''m definitely going to use that sometime. I thought you''d brought a grenade into the match, then I watched the replay, and was like holy shit, you can do that!?" She said looking past Max. The pirate captain was minus his hat and cutlass which must have been items on the ship.


    "I was too confident in my sword skills," the man admitted with a sigh.


    "You would have won if you hadn''t thrown your pistol away," Max said, and the pirate lord shrugged his shoulders.


    "Did they really have to do that with the frying pan? It was so cartoony." A third man said and everyone laughed. The elevator doors opened and everyone piled inside.


    The upstairs lobby was filled with players. He and the others in the elevator had to fight there way clear. Thousands of people were waiting to start their own matches. Almost all were dressed in some flavor of tactical clothing and carrying two primary weapons. Max felt a pang of jealousy, but he quickly pushed it aside.

 Gay Bar

    Thank god the bar was painted like a Rainbow Popsicle or Max would have never found the place. He spent the better part of an hour wandering back and forth down the wrong street, then stumbled across it as he backtracked toward the mall. It was close to five in the afternoon, and the small parking lot was packed with vehicles.


    Max opened the blacked-out door and was slapped upside the head by deafening dance music. He weathered the initial storm and soldiered inside. The song ended as he stood bathed in the evening light, and a score of weapons turned to glance at him. Men in short-shorts and torn tank tops eye fucked Max while the women turned back to their dance partners. The atmosphere was different than every bar he''d ever been in. It was off in some intangible way, and he couldn''t put his finger on the sensation. The door closed behind him, and the sound system rolled over to a slow Depeche Mode track.


    The moment ended and he was back to being just a random guy in the crowd. He caught sight of the single pool table in the corner which was occupied, but he ambled in that direction. People were still looking at him, and their eyes made his neck hairs bristle. Max approached a small table nearby and sat down with his back to the wall. Two of the four pool players turned towards him and he smiled. A small dark-skinned African man circled the table with a pool cue in hand. He had two gold earrings and a layer of thick purple eyeliner. Small dark hands absently ground a block of chalk on the end of the Pool Que as he analyzed the table. Three other men dressed in pastel colors sat on stools nearby.


    "Hello," he said pulling a small menu towards himself. He glanced down the list checking how much the beer cost.


    "You want in?"


    "I would like that," he admitted putting the menu back.


    "We''re playing for credits."


    "How much?"


    "Buy-in is a thousand,"


    "Sorry lads, I''m strapped for cash. Guess I''ll order a beer and watch," he said settling against the wall. The small African-American struck the white ball, sending into a cluster of solids. The break blew the ball apart in several directions. His eyes lifted, slid over Max, he smirked playfully.


    "You''re new here, so we could float you the credits, but how about a little fun?" He asked in a lisping drawl.


    "Fun?"


    "Some strip pool. Each game you remove something."


    "Sure! I''ll take you up on that. When am I up?"


    "Right now," he said leaning over the table. He aimed the pool stick between two strips and struck the cue ball. The ball spun around them like a ballet dancer and nudged the eightball into the pocket. One of the men stood and palmed the nearby console. It flashed and the credit transfer competed.


    Max stood, taking the offered pool stick. He removed his tan gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. They had to come off anyway if he wanted to play.


    "That''s lame," they chorused. "Show some skin at least."


    "You didn''t say what I had to remove," he replied with a grin. Max settled the cue ball on the starting, aimed at the triangle of racked balls, and struck. They blew apart in an explosion clinking and bouncing around the felt table.


    "What are you doing here?" A familiar female hissed from behind him. Max turned to see Violet in a black mini-dress and high heels, with an expression of angry suspicion.


    "The same thing you are, darling. Sacrificing a piece of my dignity for this months rent," he quipped walking around the table. "Since you''re here, how about a glass of whatever''s on tap. I''m not picky."


    Her eyes narrowed and she glanced at the other men nearby. None ordered anything so she grunted and sauntered off. She slid through a pack of female weapons and her expression lifted¡ªmarginally. Max watched her go before turning back to the game. He dropped two solids into the pocket before missing his third shot.


    "I''m Lafayette," the dark-skinned man said sliding past Max. He took up a spot near the corner and sank an easy ball. He didn''t bother moving as he dropped another into the opposite pocket, then circled the table rubbing his pool stick with the chalk.


    "Max."


    Lafayette dropped two more before Violet returned with his beer. The full glass careened across the table towards him, and Max made no move to grab it as it slid off the end. The music was loud enough that no one noticed the sound of glass shattering.


    "Tisk, tisk¡­ awful service," he commented, and Violet glared at him.


    "You''re still paying for that."


    "Then I''d like another, please," Max said with a self-satisfied grin. Violet sighed dramatically and knelt to pick up the broken pieces. The other men stopped to watch, and Max admired the way her tiny dress rode up. The skulls on her thigh grinned at Max, daring him to comment.


    "1 star for service, but damn¡­ five stars for that ass," He crooned and Violet stood. Her eyes burned like molten silver as she turned to glare at him.


    "What if I dump the next one on your head just to cool you off?"


    "I''m sure these gentlemen wouldn''t mind. They''re already trying to get my clothes off, so you''d just be doing them a favor." Max said gesturing to his new friends. "Alas, who would I get to towel me off?" He asked winking at the woman. Violet glanced at them, snorted once and stalked off towards the bar.


    "You should be careful of Violet. I''ve seen her thump a few customers who got handsy."


    "I''m familiar with her temper, but I can''t help myself. It''s so much fun poking her buttons." Max said turning back to the pool table.


    "You know her?" They asked.


    "I rent a room from her and Friday."


    "But, you''re not her Meister?"


    "I was, but she didn''t like how handsy I got," he replied and the men snorted. Lafayette dropped the last striped ball into a side pocket and set up for the eight ball. The stick lazily hit the ball which rolled slowly across the felt and into the hole.


    "Another?" he asked. Max stood and pulled his belt free. The four men watched him hungrily as he set it down on the table. He also dug his gloves out and added them to the small pile. Now Max started to understand how women could toy with straight men so easily.


    "I''ll play him this time," one of his friends said. He was a foot shorter with dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. Lafayette held out the pool stick then racked the balls before the challenger broke the triangle in a nearly perfect spread. Friday came over carrying a tray and two glasses in one hand. The other carried a small mop to clean up the beer.


    "Now I know why Violet asked me to cover her table," Friday mused and Max laughed.


    "Hello, Friday. I hope you had a¡­ pleasurable morning," Max said and a pink tinge crossed her cheeks as she set the beer down, and covered her chest with the empty tray. He stood and took the mop from her, unwilling to let the woman clean up his mess.


    "Where''s Rusty at?" He asked pushing the mob around the pool of liquid.


    "Watching a dog competition in the back room. Do you need any else?" She asked glancing at the group.


    "Since you''re here. Would you mind putting my things with yours? I''m about to lose my second game, and I have nowhere to put my gear."


    "Please don''t go wild. The boys may enjoy the sight, but there is a level of decorum here." Friday said picking up his belt and gloves.


    "These pool sharks are good, but I''ll cut my losses before my boxers drop." He said holding the used mop out. Friday took it, and Max turned his attention back to the game. This new challenger was even better than Lafayette. He''d nearly cleaned the table in the short time Max had conversed with Friday. The man dropped every solid on the board, but thankfully, missed the eight ball. It rolled to a stop barely an inch from the pocket. There was no chance Max would win by skill alone.


    Then again he didn''t need to win. Max just needed to make the other guy lose. He leaned over the table and carefully nudged one of his balls with the pool stick. It rolled further than anticipated bumping the eight ball even closer to the hole. The other man sniffed as he straightened, and Max smiled. Max wasted a turn, but the eightball was fairly well covered. He picked the cube of chalk and rubbed it over the tip of his pool stick.


    "You blocked me."


    "Worried I''ll catch up?" Max asked holding out the chalk. His opponent took it and walked around the table. For almost a minute, he examined the board looking for an angle. If Max were in the same position, he''d just waste a turn. He was human, well, previously human and still capable of flaws. The NPC was far more skilled and it showed in his confidence. He stopped resting the pool stick on his outstretched hand, finger curled over the shaft. He hit the cue ball low and off to one corner. It rolled sideways skirting the edge of the table and nudged the eightball, which rolled toward the pocket. It dropped into the pocket, and Max sucked in his breath. The cue ball tottered on the precipice, like a man waiting for the end. Then it slowly fell in.


    "Ohhhh, scratched out!" Charlie cheered.


    The man sighed and went over to the console. He put his palm on the screen, then tapped at it a few times. "Just put your palm on next, and a thousand credits will transfer over," he said. Max followed his directions and saw his balance rise to 17408 credits.


    "Another round?"


    "I''ll pass for now. I want to celebrate by annoying Violet some more. I''ve got credits, so I think I''ll order something fancy at the bar," Max said tossing the stick toward Lafayette. The small man caught it deftly, smiled, and stroked a dark hand over the tip.


    Max waved and pushed through a growing crowd of dancers. He took his time so he could admire the number of girls grinding together. Men sprinkled the dance floor like salt in a sweet dish, but it was nice to see the sheer amount of female flesh on display. The weapons¡ªnot all of them men¡ªcasually pawed at Max as he shimmied and swayed past.


    Quinn was in a red satin doublet today with a high v-neck collar. A bight Italian trilby perched atop his head like it dared gravity to try something. The man was bobbing his hips to the rhythm but paused with a smile as he noticed Max approach.


    "The cutie is back," he said with a lisping chirp. Violet ignored him as he slid into place next to her, but he returned Quinn''s smile and placed a hand on her pale shoulder "Violet here convinced me to try something new." Quinn glanced between the two, even more surprised. The woman sniffed in annoyance and continued placing drink concoctions on her serving tray, then brushed his hand off and went about her duties.


    "I want to try an interesting drink, surprise me," Max said leaning into the opened spot. He slid a hand over the nearby console to open a tab.


    "In all honesty Quinn, I''m a straight guy in a gay bar, but you know what? I am really enjoying myself. A man usually spends half the night looking for a slice of pussy. Chatting them up, getting her interested, fending off other men¡­ it''s such a headache. I can finally relax." Max said above the dance music.


    "Why do it then?"


    "In the real world, women go to bars to be picked up. Men go hunting. It''s just how we apes go about finding love. Still, I''m enjoying myself so much maybe I''ll go over and lose another game of pool."


    "If you need money, I''d hire you part-time¡­ if you''re willing." Quinn offered as he pulled several bottles of alcohol off the shelf. He filled a metal shaker with ice, then dropped in several ounces of each poison.


    "No thanks. Me and nine-to-five jobs don''t get along. I always made my money as a soldier, and that isn''t going to change now."


    "I''d make it worth your while, beautiful. The boys are stacking the room tonight," Quinn replied dropping the lid on the shaker and rocking it back and forth. Max glanced back at the crowd of men around the pool table. It had grown to seven and they were looking in his direction.


    "I don''t like promises, but I might come back tomorrow."


    Quinn pulled a small martini glass out and dropped a cube of dry ice into the bottom. Next, he added a slice of watermelon and kiwi to one side and poured the pink concoction over the top. The liquid bubbled and popped from the dry ice. Fog rolled off the top as he set on the counter and pushed it towards Max.


    "What is it?"


    "A Pink Power Ranger," said with a flourish.


    He was about to pick the glass up when a slice of sex appeal sat down next to him. The woman flicked her icy blue eyes toward him, in a quick once over. One of which was covered by her black bangs. The rest of her hair was a short controlled bob that framed her face like a picture. She turned to the barkeep and raised a lazy hand toward Quinn.


    "Beer please," she said and the owner quickly slid a glass of honeyed nectar towards her. She looked at him again, and Max felt her eyes slid across his body.


    "You come here often?" She asked in a husky voice and he laughed a quick bark.


    "My first night," he admitted, "You?"


    "Bars aren''t my scene, but my pistol told me lots of guys hang out here."


    "I''m surprised. Picking up men at a gay bar doesn''t sound very productive," Max mused and it was the woman''s turn to laugh. He glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye. She had a straight hawkish nose, a mouth that was slightly larger than average, and a chin like a blunted point. Black knee-high combat boots, with a dagger sheath sticking out one. Shiny skin-tight leather pants, with a holster strapped so low on her thigh the extended pistol almost touching her knee. Her other leg had a sheath with three silver throwing knives. She had, what Max assumed was, light body armor under another black leather vest. Pistol magazines poked out from a half dozen pockets. Everything about the woman from her clothing to the hard beauty of her face screamed warrior princess.


    "It wasn''t my first choice either, but my options are limited. I''ve been silver for almost a week. Men are already hard to find, and none seem to be staying at the Armory." The woman said grabbing her beer. Max picked up his Pink Power Ranger, which bubbled and frothed from the dry ice. He sipped it and decided he didn''t like the drink. It tasted like carbonated tropical punch smothered in vodka. The extra bubbles and dry ice fog were lovely to look at but didn''t add anything to the drink.


    "I was just telling Quinn, that''s why I love this place. It''s perfect for coming to relax."


    "You could always take a boytoy home and try him out," Quinn replied with a wink. Max polished off the small drink and pushed it across the bar. He gave the bar owner a tired put-upon look.


    "Another?" the man asked, but Max quickly waved a hand.


    "I think I need a beer," Max admitted and turned to the woman again. She was looking at him with appraising eyes as she toyed with a lock of hair. A glass of slid across the counter and he caught it without looking. The woman made some kind of decision because she shifted in her seat.


    "I''m Calamity, Cal for short."


    "Max," he said offering a hand. They shook and her grip was quick and strong.


    "May I ask what are you?"


    "I''m a man," Max replied taking a sip from his beer which tasted much better in his opinion.


    "You know what I mean," she said returning to her own beer. He set down his glass.


    "There must be some misunderstand here, I''m not a weapon," he said, and the woman scanned him looking for holsters or visible weapons.


    Max, in turn, glanced over her outfit. The pistol in her holster looked like a HnK USP, but it was hard to tell just seeing the rear slide and hammer. She didn''t have a primary weapon, but there was the light body armor. More than likely that meant she had just hit the silver ranks.


    "Where are your guns?" She asked and he lifted his arms.


    "Meet Lucille and Maybelle," Max said flexing his thick biceps and grinned at her. "Be careful, Lucille''s a firecracker," he added and the girl laughed.


    "You''re funny. I like that, and it seems your not totally off women. I need a primary weapon and I''ll take anything at this point." Cal said leaning further forward. She pressed a hand to his jeans and damned if he didn''t respond to her touch. It had been¡­ months since he''d had a woman. Still, she was obviously under the impression Max was a weapon and playing hard to get. Most Meisters wore tactical gear, and it was the only thing that separated them from the NPC''s. Max was wearing plain clothes, and his gun belt and gloves were missing.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "If you''re looking for a gun, there are a handful over by the pool tables. Just wander over and introduce yourself. They are ready to find a Meister."


    "I want you," she replied.


    "That''s a first. Usually, I''m the one chasing after women."


    "I know what I want," she continued doggedly.


    "I''m flattered, but I''m not a weapon you can contract with," he said draining his glass. Max got up to leave, but the woman stopped him. One hand wrapped around his elbow, while her other grabbed a fist full of his ass. She squeezed hard and smiled up at him.


    "Let''s go to my place," she said in a husky voice. Max quirked an eyebrow at the woman. Quinn was smiling behind the counter at what had to be the strangest encounter ever. He''d spelled out that he wasn''t a weapon, so Max mentally shrugged.


    "I''ll follow you."


    The woman finished her beer to bolster herself, then turned and possessively took his arm. She was a few inches shorter than him, and he looked down into her icy eyes. His better judgment gave way to the intense desire to fuck this girl.


    "Lead the way," he said and Quinn laughed as he washed the dirty glasses.


    "And here you said you weren''t looking to get laid," Quinn said with a sly twinkling smirk.


    "I wasn''t, but maybe fate is telling me something," Max called back as the woman pulled him towards the door.


    Max followed Calamity out into the parking lot. She approached a Kawasaki Ninja 1,000cc motorcycle and quickly straddled the seat. It started with a threatening roar before settling into a deep tiger''s purr. He shrugged and climbed onto the tiny rear seat. She didn''t put a helmet or offer him one, so he leaned forward wrapping his arms around her stomach. The woman smelled of leather and ode ''de femme fatale which made him a touch horny. It was a good thing he''d gotten a solid grip on her because she revved the throttle and they shot forward. The bike zipped forward, dropped off the sidewalk just ahead of a Red Bugatti. The engine roared again and the Ninja went up into a low wheelie as it raced down the street.


    Max was not a man easily impressed, but this girl had a death wish with her motorcycle. They went around six or seven cars stopped at the red light then threaded the needle of moving traffic. The wind was annoying loud without a helmet, and Calamity''s black hair whipped at his face.


    "How far away do you live?"


    The reply ripped past with the wind and the sound of the engine. She slowed, marginally to slide around an intersection before reeving the throttle again. He managed to keep his bearings enough to know they were heading past the competition center and toward the water. They pulled into a low set of apartment buildings and Cal let up on the gas. The ninja slowed with a discontented growl. She drove past three buildings at a relative crawl, then parked the bike directly on the sidewalk.


    Max slid off the back almost gratefully. Cal turned off the bike, kicked it up on the stand, and motioned for him to follow. He caught up with her as she mounted the first set of steps. Cal looked back at Max as his hand slid up her leg and squeezed her ass. The leather was tight but flexible enough to give his fingers purchase.


    "Returning the favor," he said and she smiled. The woman took her sweet time mounting the stairs, and by the third floor, he''d memorized the shape of her ass. She paused on the landing and turned towards him. He was a step below and she took the opportunity to kiss him. At first, it was a peck, then a tap of lips, then she was wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing her tongue into his mouth.


    She tasted of beer and salted peanuts, and smelled like leather and musky sex. The erotic body odor made his cock harden with his jeans and Cal noticed. Her fingers coaxed and pawed at his thigh, ass, and groin. Somehow the apartment door got unlocked and kicked open. Max barely noticed a small living room before his shirt was being torn off. He grabbed her leather jacket pushing it over her shoulders. It thudded to the floor as he reached for the snaps on her armor. Teeth bit into his neck as she climbed up to his lips. Legs around his waist, they bumped into an old couch and the light armor fell off.


    The bedroom was open and Max paused in the doorway. Cal''s mouth was on his, hunting for his tongue and doing a good job of it. Together they couldn''t make it through the small portal. He pressed her against the jam and she let out a dark growl as she finally slid from him. She shoved Max, shirtless into the room. Much of the space was taken up by a large bed and he landed on the mattress. Calamity stayed just in the doorway staring at Max''s muscled chest.


    "I have a confession," she said pulling a gray tank top over her head.


    "Please tell me you''re not a trap," he said and she laughed playfully.


    I suppose I was at a gay bar, he thought.


    "Fortunately for you, I''m all woman."


    "Good, what''s your dark secret then?" He asked and Cal kicked the door closed. She reached behind her back, unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts popped free and he marveled that they''d managed to fit under the light armor. She crossed the short distance and their lips pressed together again. Max ran his fingers over her hardening nipples, then snaked a hand between her legs. He''d been in Thailand once and it was safer to check. Her crotch was steamy under the leather, but thankfully, lacked any suspicious bulges. Cal chuckled in response, then kissed and licked her way to his right ear.


    "I love sucking cock," she growled before biting down on his earlobe.


    "I''m not going to stop you," he replied and Cal''s leather pants creaked in protest as she knelt before him. Her fingers worked the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down. Next, she pulled on the gray boxers and withdrew his cock like a magnum from its holster. It slid free and she barely avoided getting clubbed in the face.


    "Shit, you are even bigger than Yohan," she gasped in surprise. Cal stroked him several times just to test his girth, then tried vainly to circle his thick shaft with her fingers. Her blue eyes grew smoky and she knew she''d made the right decision. A tongue licked out and slid along his tip, down his shaft, and dragged along the base of his cock. Then she kissed her way up his length just to start over. By the third torturous minute his erection was twitching and Calamity purred to herself. Finally, her lips slid over his head and he moaned. She descended partly down his length then pulled back. At the top she licked her tongue languorously around the crown before she descended again.


    "Wow," he groaned as Cal pushed herself further. Inch after inch entered her mouth until her lips touched the base of his cock. She withdrew, and his slippery cocked popped free. She smiled up at him enjoying the dazed expression on his face. Calamity tucked her black hair behind one ear.


    "You like?" Cal asked and Max nodded quickly. She clawed at his six-pack abs as her attention returned to his manhood. Her left hand half curled around his shaft as her lips slid down the shaft again. Nails raked his stomach again, and black hair bobbed as her head rose and fell. He''d heard tales of throbbing cocks, and now he believed it. His erection was jumping to every flick and lick of her tongue. It felt so good, in fact, he was tempted to say it was the best blowjob he''d ever gotten.


    "Crap, Cal, I''m going to cum," he admitted and she looked up into his eyes. She didn''t stop. Instead, Cal picked up speed as her nails cut more scratches into his stomach. Moaning like the dead, stomach spasming, body tingling, Max exploded in her mouth with an orgasm best described as world-shattering. He fell back onto the bed gasping for breath. Cal spent more than a minute sucking every ounce of essence he had to give. His cock exited her mouth with a loud pop and she grinned up at him.


    "You know how to pleasure a man," he rasped still out of breath and she smiled again. Her slippery fingers continued to stroke his cock as she admired his size again. Max quickly discovered one benefit of being a digital ghost. He no longer had to wait an hour or more before sessions. Thanks to Cal, his cock never did more than droop before coming back to full attention. He grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her onto the bed. She laughed as he fought with her gun belt. He didn''t bother pulling it free. It was enough to loosen the buckle and unzip her leather pants. Then he grabbed the hem of her waist and dragged them down her legs, she quickly kicked out the sticky fabric.


    Cal rolled over, crawling away on all fours towards the headboard. She put one hand on the wall and looked back at him with hungry eyes, then reached back and spread herself for him. Translucent lube dripped from her sex and spread across her smooth thighs. Max quickly pulled his jeans and boxers off then went after her. She smiled at him and lifted her ass higher. Max reached her and knelt behind the woman, then guided himself into her slick pussy. Her insides felt like a heavenly , and he quickly buried himself up to the base. This time she moaned in pleasure.


    He pulled out enjoying the sight of her spread sex, then thrust forward, and Cal cried out as their hips met. Max bounced back, clung to her waist and pushed. She shoved against the wall and they collided with a loud fleshy slap. Max held her by the hips, digging his fingers into the flesh as the pace increased. With each thrust, another moan escaped Cal''s parted lips. Ten minutes passed before Cal rolled onto her back.


    "Damn that feels good. Fuck me, fuck me hard," she crooned and he did just that. Max pulled the woman towards the corner of the bed and climbed off. He pinned her to down as he fucked her pussy. With each plunge of his cock, she wailed and clawed at his arms, his chest, and when she could, his back.


    "God, yes¡­" she groaned pulling a pillow onto her face. Seconds later, the woman screamed into it as an orgasm ripped through her. Max felt her sex quivering against his erection and he slowly pulled free. Cal grinned like a feral cat as she lowered the pillow and looked up at him.


    "You know how fuck a woman," she sighed throwing the pillow across the bed. Smiling to himself, Max climbed onto the mattress with her, and she straddled him. Cal guided him inside and slowly ground herself against him. Max grunted as she worked herself into a steady back and forth rhythm. The woman sure loved her nails because his torso was turning into a patchwork of crisscrossing scars.


    It didn''t last though. Max saw the change come across her face. Calamity''s expression shifted from contented pleasure to confusion, then subtle dawning realization.


    "Where''s your collar?"


    "Why would I have a collar?" He asked in reply. Her eyes widened further and she stopped mid-motion to stare at him. Then Cal threw herself from the bed and clawed at her leather pants. She fumbled with the holster as Max sat up on his elbows. Finally, she yanked the pistol free and spun towards him.


    "Who are you?" Calamity hissed.


    "We sort of introduced ourselves back at the bar."


    "I mean it, who the hell are you?"


    "You should be careful, darling," Max said pointing at her pistol. He was happy to note he''d correctly identified the USP in her holster. "Shooting me will earn you a temporary ban."


    "You''re a Meister?!" She cried and the gun went off. The bullet struck the wall and she staggered backward in surprise. Max rolled his eyes but raised his hands in a non-threatening manner.


    "Yohan, is that true?" Cal asked in a nearly hysterical voice. The weapon flashed yellow for a second and a handsome man with blond hair appeared next to her. He had the bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and powerful nose of a highborn German. He glanced at Max laying on the bed, then the hole in the wall, and finally to Cal.


    "Ya, he is a player," the man said in a thick Germanic accent.


    "Why didn''t you tell me sooner!?" The woman nearly shouted.


    "I cannot see in pistol form, but he was close enough to hear. I recall him telling you twice he was not a gun."


    Calamity scowled at him, then at Max, before grabbing her pants and fleeing the room. Max shifted to the edge of the bed and pulled his jeans back on.


    "I have had better Meisters, but I''m glad she missed," Yohan said walking toward the bedroom door. Max glanced up from his dressing and eyed the weapon. He was dressed impeccably in expensive grey slacks and a polo. "That would have been the second time she hit another player."


    "So¡­ it''s another 24-hour ban."


    "Nein, it''s thirty days the second time," he corrected glancing out through the doorway then added, "The third time it''s permanent. Disputes are best taken into a match or a duel."


    "That''s harsh," Max said shoving his feet into the combat boots. He looked around for his shirt but couldn''t locate it in the bedroom. Yohan backed through the doorway and toward his Meister. Calamity managed to yank her pants up as Max entered the living room. She snatched the leather jacket from Yohan, and with angry fumbling fingers worked the zipper up to her neck. Her icy eyes stared daggers at Max as he located his shirt.


    "Please tell me you aren''t some 40-year-old virgin in his mom''s basement," She said acidly.


    "You tell me, did I fuck you like a virgin?" He asked in reply and her face turned pink. "What you see is what you get," he replied pulling his top on. "Besides, who are you to question me?"


    "I can prove who I am?"


    "Oh," he said with interest.


    "Mercedes Brigand," she said putting both hands on her hips. Max seemed to recall the name from somewhere. Something to do with fangs¡­


    "Oh! The furry author? I''ve read one of your books and I was pleasantly surprised."


    "It''s urban romance," she said drawing herself up.


    "Now I''m wondering why are you playing Gun Meister if you write novels about vampires and werewolves?"


    "Research for a new book series," she said calming down.


    "What''s it about?" He asked trying to draw her out. Max wasn''t truly interested, but keeping her talking seemed like the best way to diffuse the situation.


    "It''s about a werewolf mercenary company," she said and Max laughed.


    "Playing this game isn''t going to tell you shit about tactics. It''ll be trial and error, with almost all error."


    "Well¡­ What do you know about combat?"


    "I know to keep my finger off the trigger," Max said glancing at Yohan. The tall German nodded his head out of sight of his Meister.


    "Then help me. You owe me that much."


    "I don''t owe you shit. You picked up a random guy at the bar and had a one night stand. End of story," Max said crossing his arms over his chest. Cal''s face grew purple with rage and he rolled his eyes. Damn it. She was going to play the victim in all this. "I''ll help you, only because I have a friend who''s obsessed with your books. Wulfe''s the perfect person to talk too if you want to know about female soldiers. She''s a hardcore stone-cold bitch, and there were few people I trusted to watch my back. She deflated almost immediately.


    "A soldier? You''ll give me her contact info?"


    "I can''t tell you her full name. She wouldn''t respond to an email if you included that. Just call her Wulfe, and tell her she still owes me for letting her read all those trashy furry novels on a mission." Max said, and she grimaced at him. Max hunted around for a piece of paper, found a random news clipping about the upcoming tourney, then jotted down an email address for Second Lieutenant Wulfe. She might not reply. Opsec was everything in the black community, but he figured Wulfe would love getting an email from her favorite author. Max held out the piece of paper and Cal took it.


    "You still didn''t tell me who you are?"


    "Max."


    "Just Max?" She asked and he backed toward the entrance. He wasn''t about to give the crazy woman his full name either, so he ignored the question.


    "I''ll find my own way home," he added opening the apartment door and giving the two a jaunty wave. Then he turned and jogged down the stairs. Max spent the next hour jogging back to the penthouse.

 Rankup

    It took two and a half bloody hours to find his way back to the apartment. First, he had to walk from the outer burrow to the city center, locate the competition center, then trudge to the penthouse building. He unlocked the door close to midnight and entered. The living room television was on and both women were curled up on the couch with the dog. They turned to look at him, and he gave all three a sloppy grin.


    "I''m surprised you''re back. Didn''t you leave the bar with that female Meister?" Violet asked dryly.


    "We fucked, she shot at me, and I decided it best to sleep at home tonight." Max replied with a ¡®what-can-you-do'' shrug.


    "You do have a way with women," Friday said with a small smile.


    "I know, right?! Girls are so strange. They can go from hot to cold in seconds."


    "Do you want to join us?" Friday asked gesturing toward the television.


    "I could use a sit," he admitted slumping into the closest leather seat. The black and white show was halfway through the episode. A boy with baby cheeks and light hair trudged through the front door of an old fashioned house. Following him was a collie with a white stripe on his face and black floppy ears.


    A woman with dark hair, a white striped shirt, and a floured covered apron was making dinner inside.


    "Mom!"


    "Yes, Timmy?" She asked turning around and spotting the beautiful shiner on the kid''s face.


    "What happened to you?"


    "I was playing football, trying out for the team. I need you to sign for permission. Where''s the pen?"


    "Uh uhh, no football.


    "But mom, all the other kids are playing!"


    "I don''t care who else is playing, you''re not. It''s too rough a game for a small boy." The mother said walking away and into the rest of the house. Timmy dejected sat, pulling the permission slip towards himself.


    On the couch, Rusty barked as the collie snuck forward and stuck his head under Timmy''s arm. He whined to the boy, who turned to pet him. A depressing bit of music played as the camera zoomed in on the pair. Lassie whined again and licked at Timmy''s face before the shot transitioned. Finally, Max remembered where he''d seen this before.


    "This is Lassie, isn''t it? I have never seen an episode." Max said and the women turned to him. "My dad used to say bruises were proof you were playing football the right way."


    "It''s a good show, and full of life lessons," Friday said, and Rusty barked his agreement.


    "I''m sure it is, but I''m all tuckered out. Going to hit the sack," He replied pulling himself out of the leather couch. He wandered into the guest room and found his gunbelt and gloves sitting on the night. Out in the living room, Timmy continued to try and play football with the other kids. Max undressed and slipped in the blankets, then immediately sank into sleep.


    ***


    The smell of bacon and fresh coffee reached his nose, and he rolled out of bed half asleep and followed the scent into the main room. Friday was just giving Rusty a strip of greasy bacon as a reward. He chewed it with the ecstatic fever of a rabid dog. Max wandered to the kitchen counter where Friday is making breakfast again.


    "Good Morning," He said sliding onto the stool. Friday turned a radiant smile on him and he couldn''t help but return it.


    "Where do I get blades and such, or are they NPC''s too?" He asked and she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head in thought.


    "You can buy any melee weapon you want at a store in the back of the mall. Not many people go in there because few Meisters willingly enter melee range." She replied pausing her preparations to turn towards him.


    "What are you doing today?" Friday asked with interest.


    "Probably another match. Yesterday, I had a really sweet sword fight aboard a pirate ship. Good fun."


    "That''s¡­ interesting." Friday admitted after a small pause.


    "I''m still sure what I''ll do with myself long-term, but I really took your message to heart, so I''m going to enjoy myself to the fullest.


    "You mean like last night?" Friday asked and Max laughed. It was nice to see the woman wasn''t afraid to tease him right back.


    "I did not expect that Meister to drag me back to her apartment, but I wasn''t going to pass up the opportunity. Holy shit, did I need that, too." He admitted and stood patting his jeans to make sure he had the apartment key. Violet turned towards him with an annoyed expression.


    "Are you going to show up at my work again?"


    "What, you didn''t like seeing me?"


    "Thanks to you, everyone assumed we were together. I got harassed by a hundred different guns, all asking about you."


    "I''m popular!" Max said with a pleasant surprise.


    "It''s annoying. Several wanted to stay here."


    "You have two other guest rooms, so charge them rent. Just tell them I don''t promise anything."


    "They''d only be here for the chance to contract. Besides, we like our privacy." Violet said with a huff.


    "Don''t go just yet," Friday said finishing her preparations. Max paused as Friday bounded toward him.


    "What''s this?" he asked as the woman handed him a brown paper bag.


    "Peanut butter and jelly, in case you get hungry."


    "Awww," he said taking it. "How thoughtful," Max added glancing inside to see the plastic wrapped sandwich. He couldn''t remember his own mother had ever made him a sandwich. Not once. Violet rolled her eyes from the kitchen stool but said nothing. Max opened the apartment door and slipped out humming a cheerful tune.


    Violet''s voice called after him, "Don''t come to the bar." Max smirked and rode the elevator down to the ground floor. He wandered down the street in the early morning light. Just inside the mall was the food court, and he stopped to buy a large cappuccino. He paid for the drink and wandered into the first store. It felt quite liberating, and for almost an hour, he idled in the different tactical shops. Eventually, he found himself into the same tactical duds shop from yesterday. Today he bought a pair of Kevlar combat gloves and was tempted by the desert cargo pants, but the price tag was still a tad steep.


    The very last store was called Betsy''s Blade Emporium. A sign on the display window read, "Don''t see what you like? Build any custom blade for 10,000c." Below this was a six-foot-tall naginata with a silk wrapped handle and a dragon pommel. The store was empty of other players, and an old Asian lady was reading something behind the front counter.


    "Irasshaimase," she said without taking her eyes off her work.


    The inside of the shop was only about twenty feet by fifty and covered in Japanese posters. One wall was totally given over to a massive knife collection, while the back had truncheons, clubs, baseball bats, a morning star on sale, and a guitar made of steel. A low standing CNC machine was set up on the left side of the shop. Instructions in three languages described how any weapon could be custom made, but Max didn''t have that kind of cash to waste, so he wandered over the knives.


    At first, Max gravitated toward the giant American pig-stickers. He picked up a Huntsman Bowie knife with a thirteen-inch blade and ran a thumb along the blood groove. It was tempting just for the extra reach, but he put it back. Next, he pulled a couple of karambits off the wall and tested them. The first had a small curved blade, and tiny grip, which made it look like letter opener in his over-sized mitts. Toward the top row was a curved knife with a larger than average hilt, and a finger hole big enough to fit his thumb into. Max pulled it from the sheath and admired the greenish Damascus steel, which had a wavy pattern worked into the metal. The blade was about five inches long, with a five-inch rubber wrapped hilt and a finger hole he could use with his new gloves. He glanced at the 2800 credit sticker price and almost dropped the knife.


    Holy shit, that was expensive for a sliver of steel, but damn he needed it. He took the curved knife up the counter, and the old baba put her book down. She was barely four feet tall with thick glasses and a thread-bare kimono. Two black lacquered needles kept the mass of white hair in s tight frizzy bun. She glanced at him, and rang the item up without comment or much expression, then gestured towards the console screen. After palming the screen, Max slid the karambit onto his belt and positions near the small of his back.


    Now he could enter a match armed with something, and if things worked out, he''d come back for something custom made. He wasn''t sure how long he''d make Violet wait, but sooner or later he''d need some actual firepower. For now, he''d jog over to the competition center and try his luck.


    The mall seemed crowded as he left the store. By his reckoning, it was about 9:30, maybe ten as he pushed through the throng. He was excited to try out his new knife and jogged from the mall. The street was busy with traffic, both automotive and pedestrian.


    Three women clung to a Meister as he ambled toward the competition center. The man was of average height with a stocky build and an Englishman''s ruddy features. Short dirty blond hair was carefully styled atop his head, and a goatee added to his genial character. A long gray trench-coat hung to his feet mostly hiding a set of medium body armor, and a pair of black trousers. Ringing his belt were a dozen rifle magazines and a small unidentified pouch. The girls were almost nondescript in their beauty, and they hung from the Meister like exotic flowers.


    Max was more than a tad jealous. Why couldn''t he get girls like that? For about half a block he watched them fawn over the player. Growing annoyed, he jogged passed and through the intersection just before it changed color. For a few minutes, he toyed with the idea of stopping by the armory to check out his options. He didn''t need to contract with Violet. She even offered to introduce him to some of her friends. No, better to give it a day to or two.


    The competition center came into sight and a host of clan recruiters were calling out slogans around the entrance again. Girls, inc were out in force today with a squad of scantily clad Meisters. Along with two-piece thongs, they sported a small collection of pistols, slung rifles, and belts full of gear. Other clans imitated them to a greater or lesser degree.


    "Be sexy, be badass! Any skill level welcome. Join Girls, Inc." A ginger-haired woman called out.


    "Join Death''s Head! Must be gold or higher and willing to work on an assigned team. Serious players only," a second man called with a megaphone. Behind him, a giant was crouched behind a ballistic shield, while four others fanned out on either side in a choreographed move. Each wore a ballistic mask shaped like a skull and moderate to heavy body armor. In completely sync, they duck walked¡ªwith raised weapons¡ªaround a temporary wall and disappeared. There was a contained flash and several suppressed gunshots.


    "Try out for Team 666, platinum and above. We are going to win this years championship." A man with chiseled features shouted nearby. Max paused to look at the high-level player, who dominated a small table. A modified M4 carbine hung across his back, and a customized pistol rested in a thigh holster. That was the second time Max had heard about the winter tournament. He stepped closer and raised a hand to get his attention.


    "What''s this about the championship?" Max asked stepping up the man. The Meister glanced at him, noticed his lack of weapons, and promptly ignored him. Undeterred, Max stepped closer and blocked him the throng of players streaming past. He smiled more with his teeth than last time, and the man sighed.


    "It''s a twice a year tournament¡­" the man muttered before turning and shouting his clan pitch again.


    "And?" Max prodded and the guy groaned dropping his clipboard onto the table.


    "Not that it matters to you, but squads randomly compete against each other. Points are awarded for round time and kills. The best squad wins the tourney cup and five million dollars." The man said and Max nodded. The girl from yesterday mentioned the competition as well, and it was good to hear the confirmation.


    "That''s some serious prize money."


    "It''s split between five people. The money spent is an easy way for Skybot Studio''s to generate interest in the game." The guy said picking up his clipboard again. "Now would you kindly, fuck off," He added shooing Max away.


    He shrugged joining countless others going into the competition center. Just like yesterday, the lobby was crowded with Meisters. He got into line for a console, waited an agonizing ten minutes, and finally started a quick deathmatch.


    "Please Enter Lobby 89," it said and he smiled. The elevator ride was short and he stepped into a private lobby already full of victims. Today''s batch looked more kitted out than normal, but he didn''t have much time to eyeball them. Darkness closed in after a few steps.


    [Match Started]


    Standing not five feet from him was one of the topless women, and he knew he was kinda fucked. They faced each other in an open warehouse. Behind her, a half dozen other Meisters were paired off into dueling groups. She grabbed at the black gun on her thigh holster. Max shot forward while he pulled the Karambit from behind his back. He meant to tackle her, but she back peddled as the Glock cleared the holster. The first bullet slammed into his stomach as fell upon her small frame. The gun barked five or six times in rapid succession, and dull pain stitched up his chest as he dug his own blade into her. Max staggered sideways to the concrete, but the blade was buried to the hilt between her ribs.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Well darn it, he thought as darkness closed over him. The door to the lounge opened and he was surprised to see the pink haired girl was there before him. She sat sulking with arms crossed over her chest. Max walked over to his previous spot and plopped down to watch.


    Each of the duels concluded within seconds, and the Meisters quickly picked new targets. The camera focused on a woman laying on the concrete using a large male corpse for cover. She and the dark haired boy started exchanging shots. Two other women were shooting at one another on the east side, while the last woman got to maneuver into a better position. The whole thing was done before the circle was even visible. The last Meister standing was a woman with bright green hair and a great ass. She entered the private lounge with a jaunty little victory dance.


    Max sighed, stood, and climbed into the elevator with the others. He got into line for a console. Finally, after five minutes of waiting, it was his turn and he pressed his palm against the screen, and selected Quick Death Match from the list.


    "Please Enter Lobby 95," it replied and he quickly got into the nearby elevators.


    The private lobby was empty as he exited the elevator. Max sat and dropped his arms over the back of the couch. The first two people to enter were obviously friends. Both men looked like teenagers in tactical clothing. The dark haired kid had burgundy colored eyes and watched Max while he relaxed on the touch. The other had short platinum blond hair and big baby blue eyes. They went over to another couch and sat down together.


    The next group to enter were five women wearing skin-tight pants, combat boots, and little else. Sure they had a belt of mags, but each was topless save the odd tattoo or nipple piercing. He supposed he could see the reasoning. The breasts on display were a useful distraction, if only for a few seconds, but that might be enough to win the match. Plus, it saved them from buying clothes. Three had wildly colorful hair, while a fourth was a dark brunette with tinted glasses. The last woman had short black hair, a scar across one cheek, and a bandoleer of shotgun shells across her chest. The rail-thin woman was impatiently tapping her leather boot on the carpet floor. She carried a chrome revolver on her hip and a dozen speed-loaders on her belt. Stick up from her back was Remington 870 pump shotgun. Max would have continued to ogle the women, but the final Meister entered, and everyone turned to glance at him.


    He was probably six foot with a completely bald head and a truly impressive handlebar mustache. Like most others, he was wearing ballistic armor, but his pants and jacket were straight from a WW2 era film. Hanging on his back was an old 1919 Browning Machine Gun, and several large ammo pouches dangled from his belt along with a holstered 1911. Most of the pistol was hidden by leather, but he could see the custom Betty Page grips.


    Max belatedly realized everyone in the room had a primary weapon except him, and he swore softly to himself. This match was probably going to end even faster than the last. Darkness closed in and he mentally prepared for the shit show that was about to take place.


    [Match Start]


    Snow covered the ground in a light layer of white powder, and a mist veiled the nearby trees. Above him, the tall evergreen trees blocked the sun from view. The forest floor was left in dim shadow except a few god rays plunging through the canopy. His breath plumed in the cold air. There wasn''t anyone nearby and the circle wasn''t in sight, though he could only see fifty feet in any direction before fog and tree''s blocked his vision.


    The fresh snow crunched under his boots. He sought shelter under the laden branches of a tall evergreen. Max was in a pickle and he tried to consider his best option. This was an old growth forest with few bushes, and little in the way of cover. Hiding would be next to impossible, and he was unsure where the other players were. They could come at him from any direction, and if it happened to be from behind, he was as good as dead. Climbing a tree might be an option if he had a pistol. Otherwise, he''d be a sitting target. Yes, moving was his best option right now.


    The sound of snow crunching spun Max around, and he came face to face with a giant Canadian moose. It had stopped no more than ten feet from him and was hunting in the fresh powder for late season nuts. Max slowly removed his knife, for all the good it would do. He held the blade at his side wondering what he would do if it attacked him. The giant animal chewed methodically as it stared at him without concern. He was a little peeved the creature managed to sneak up on him, but it solidified his decision to move. Max kept his eyes on the moose while backing away.


    It didn''t take long for the moose to disappear from sight. He picked his way through the trees until he managed to locate some tracks. Max crouched and placed a palm over the huge bear track. It was easily twice the size of his hand which meant it was a full grown adult. It would be hunting for food to fatten up for the winter. He followed the giant tracks reasoning it was better to find it than be found by it.


    Less than two minutes later gunfire erupted nearby. The fog played tricks with sound, but the roar that followed was much easier to focus on. Max crunched through the snow until he caught sight of a man running to his right. A giant gash ran from his shoulder to his stomach, and crimson blood dripped onto the pristine snow. A giant brown and black grizzly bear drunkenly chased the man. It hobbled on its front right leg but continued to gain. Max quickly ducked behind a tree to watch.


    The player snatched a full magazine on the run but fumbled the reload. It tumbled to the ground as the bear tackled the man from behind. Both man and bear roared as the creature reared up on it''s two back legs. The Meister had landed close to his magazine. He grabbed it, shoved it into the pistol, and dropped the slide release. The bear''s full weight landed on his frail human chest as he aimed the weapon upward. A single shot rang out before 800 pounds of apex predator tore into flesh and muscle. It was brutal thirty-second mauling which left the snow stained red in all directions. Victorious, the animal tottered sideways and collapsed on the mauled corpse.


    In the distance, Max could make out the red glow of the closing circle. It inched along at a snail''s pace but confirmed which direction the center was. He had a minute or so until the buzzer, then the energy barrier would quickly close. He turned from the wall and crept along heading north. The trees made for partial cover, and he hopped from one to the next. More tracks crisscrossed the snow, mostly deer and small game, but no more bears.


    Max returned his knife to its sheath as the buzzer sounded. Soon everyone would be forced together and the real killing would begin. He crouched next to a young evergreen tree and peered out between its branches. Ahead of him was a clearing covered in late autumn grass. The stalks were about four feet tall and packed together in the small space. What little snow had fallen had already melted with the rising sun.


    Lowering himself to ground, Max lay prone on the frozen snow and carefully scanned the clearing. About halfway across a patch of grass shifted. A small gap opened as a bundle of blond hair became visible. The female stood up, scanned the forest, then quickly ducked into the grass again. Max had a target and he smiled. Before moving, he looked around and behind him before crawling into the grass.


    His pace was agonizingly slow. He lifted an arm and placed it a few inches ahead of himself, then carefully pushed the grass aside. His progress halted as gunfire erupted off to his left. The first report was a quick six or seven shots, then another person joined the fray. A hail of fire filled the air. Max used the distraction to crawl forward another ten feet. Someone a few paces from him stood. He heard them fire at the players duking it out along the forest''s edge. Bullets ripped over his head as they returned fire.


    Max gathered his legs under his body and his heart began to pound with eager anticipation. He could hear his quarry slapping at his belt for a fresh magazine. His Karambit made a quiet shishk sound as it left the Kydex sheath. He lunged forward bulling through the grass. In three strides he upon a woman crouched in the grass. She spun to face him with an SMG magazine still half inserted into the gun. He landed on her and she dropped everything to fight him off. Her painted nails clawed at his face, and her legs feebly kicked beneath him. His powerful hands pulled her wrist aside and he drove the blade into her neck, then dragged it hard across her throat. Almost immediately her eyes rolled back and her arms relaxed in death as blood poured down her bare chest.


    More bullets flew back and forth as several people sprinted into the grass. He dropped to the ground as a hail of rounds cracked past his head. This did not look good, and he was no hopeful about winning this match. Max counted at least five shooters by the number of bullets zipping by. He couldn''t just wait here, because they were running about in the low grass. If someone stumbled upon him laying there, he''d be in no position to fight back.


    He lay there for maybe thirty seconds as everyone paused to reload. The grass nearby made a sound like dry sticks rubbing together. Max was forced to his feet and turned in its direction. Five bullets cracked past just barely missing him. Throw himself to right and then left, more bullets blazed through the low grass. A man in a brown leather jacket came into view. A shotgun quickly aimed in his direction as Max hurled himself forward, knife extended. The muzzle flashed and buckshot slammed into his stomach, chest, and shoulder.


    Darkness closed in as he collapsed to the ground, and a few seconds later, a door opened. Max stepped into the private lobby. Four people sitting on the couches watching the battle finish. He wandered over and sat down next to the blond girl. She glanced at him, then returned her attention to the main display.


    The red circle was closing fast on the grass clearing, and the timer said there was only three minutes left in the match. Max saw his dead body crumpled in an unresponsive heap, blood spilling across the ground. The man who''d killed him pulled a bloody Karambit from his thigh with a grimace. Max was a little mollified he''d gotten a piece of the Meister. The knife went into his belt before he reloaded with a fresh mag.


    A stray bullet caught one man in the head, brains spraying across the tall grass. Behind them, a door opened and he joined them in the private lounge. As the final minute ticked down four players were left in a quickly shrinking circle. The view slowly rotated to take in the remaining Meisters.


    At thirty seconds the four remaining Meister''s reloaded in near unison. They advanced slowly through the grass pistols twitching back and forth. The crackling shield dogged their heels. At twenty seconds the shooting resumed, and bullets sawed the grass as each player threw themselves to the ground. The fact all of them were still alive at ten seconds was amazing. They scrambling across the ground just ahead of the circle. Two men -- down to using pistols -- shot each other dead while the last two players grabbed at each other''s weapons. A bullet struck an arm, while the other shot a leg, and they rolled together through the energy barrier.


    [Match Complete]


    "At least everyone lost that round," the blond said as she stood from the couch. "I don''t feel so bad now." Max stood and joined the others in the elevator. It had been a good game, even though he lost.


    He decided to check his stats finally and discovered why everyone in the last match had machine guns and SMG''s. Max was Silver One.


    _____________


    Player ID - NA2114002


    Registered Competition Name - None


    Clan - None


    Hours played - 55


    Wins - 2


    Losses - 2


    Kills - 12


    Deaths - 2


    K/D Ratio - 6.0


    Battle Rank - Silver One


    Player Score - 1033


    Credits - 17408c


    _____________


    Well¡­ well, Max thought to himself. He''d managed to get to Silver all on his own. However, from now on he''d really have to work to get any kills, especially without a weapon. He flicked back to the main menu. The boxes for quick Deathmatch and Team Deathmatch were grayed out, and a warning flashed when he pressed one.


    [Two matches completed for today]


    "What? I can only play twice a day?" He asked and the woman behind him looked over his shoulder.


    "You''re gun should have told you can only play two comp matches day. You can still do as many casual matches as you like, but you¡¯ll only get credits for killing players." She said and he groaned. Great, another thing Violet failed to tell him before stomping off. Max wanted to play again, but what was the point if he couldn''t make any credits?


    "If you''re not going to play then let the next person go," She said in a slightly exasperated voice. Max tapped out of the screen and stepped aside. Welp, that did him in for today. Maybe he''d hop over to Quinn''s bar and relax for the rest of the day.


    The air seemed fresher outside the hall and the mass of players. He didn''t want to spend any more time in the competition hall. The apartment would be empty, and he wasn''t in the mood for more shopping. Max snapped his fingers as the idea struck. The gay bar wasn''t too far away, so he could stop by and annoy Violet for a little while. Seeing her in that sexy black dress from this morning would be a nice bonus.

 Chill Bar

    Quinn''s bar was surprisingly busy at 2 p.m. Max pushed his way through the loud dance music and let the door close after him. The sunlight was immediately blocked out, and he blinked in the sudden darkness. Fake fog spilled out from the corners of the room and covered the floor in a hazy white mist. Black lights and a single disco ball colored the smoke. Max lowered his hand as his eyes adjusted. The main floor was jam-packed with half-naked women grinding together. Tongues, tits, and hips fought to an erotic techno ballad.


    This was a great place to relax, he thought to himself.


    A few seconds after entering, the dancers slowed as they scented his three open contract slots. One could almost hear the sound of wet panties dropping over the music. It rippled through the crowd like a wave, and he smiled to himself. A hundred pairs of eyes watched him as he walked over to the bar. It was an odd sensation, but not wholly unpleasant to be stared at by so many women.


    It must have been his open contract slots. Friday had mentioned weapons could detect them through smell. He did his best to ignore the stares as he settled himself onto a bar stool.


    Quinn had his back turned and was washing glasses in a small bar sink. "If my nose doesn''t deceive me, the hunk has returned." The man said not turning in his direction. Max smiled and settled his elbows onto the bar.


    "I may have just found my hangout."


    "Yesterday you smelled like heaven itself, but now¡ª" The dandy said turning towards him. A flush was creeping over his cheeks, and he forced himself to place the glass gently on the bar. "Just how many contracts slots do you have?" He asked filling it with amber colored beer.


    "Three."


    "Not that I''m complaining, but what brings you back? Are you going to steal my girls away." Quinn said pushing the glass across the bar.


    "I stopped by to see if Friday was on shift."


    The other man was almost two feet shorter than Max, but that didn''t stop him from wrapping delicate fingers around Max''s wrist like a vice. They looked into each other''s eyes. "She''s a good girl and a hard worker. Please don''t hurt her or I''d be forced to make your life¡­ unpleasant." Quinn said and gave a small squeeze to Max''s wrist.


    "I am suitably warned," Max replied as his flesh and bones ground together. The bar owner let go immediately as a bronze haired figure stepped up beside them. Friday''s eyes danced between the pair with curiosity. She finally settled on Max.


    "I didn''t expect to see you until later."


    "I wanted to thank you for the sandwiches," he admitted as he picked up the beer. "And annoy Violet," he added after taking a sip.


    "I can''t tell if you want Violet," Friday said then pause briefly. She quickly added, "Actually, I can''t tell if she wants you or not. She keeps talking about you."


    "I like her well enough, but I''m really here for you."


    "I''m nobody special. There are hundreds of available weapons," she said gesturing towards the gyrating crowd of flesh on the dance floor.


    "Well, little miss nobody, everyone thinks highly of you. Would you like to celebrate with me?"


    "What are we celebrating?"


    "I ranked up to silver."


    "I don''t drink on the job, but thank you for the offer."


    "I thought we could celebrate in a different way," he said gathering himself from the bar stool. Friday took a step back, but he quickly wrapped an arm around her waist. Max leaned in close to her ear and whispered. "I came to see if you wanted to contract." She squirmed against him as her body responded to his scent. One hand pushed him away while the other clawed at the belt of his jeans.


    He could hear the hitch in her voice as she replied, "I''m... oh god... I''m on the clock, and that would be rude to Quinn." Max laughed as he was forced to lean away from the woman.


    "It wouldn''t take long. I was thinking you, me, and three minutes in the storage room."


    "That''s it?"


    "It''s one of my character flaws, sadly. I''m a fast finisher." He said with a playful smile.


    "You''re fibbing; she accused ultimately succeeding in pushing him away. Max caught her wrist and looked deep into her eyes.


    "Why don''t we go back and see?" He asked again, and she blushed. Her mouth worked, tongue licking across suddenly dry lips, and he could see the internal struggle going on behind those beautiful eyes.


    "What about Violet?" She asked in a husky hungry voice.


    "I''ve seen that storage room, and it would be a tight fit, but I suppose if you''re into contortion¡ª"


    "Don''t be obtuse," she interrupted, and he smiled again.


    "That''s entirely up to her. I wouldn''t want to get between your relationship with Violet. Speaking of the woman, where can I find that luscious long-legged vixen? I want to give her the good news."


    "Please, please don''t annoy her," Friday said pulling back. The flush was still prominent on her face and it was slowly creeping across her ears.


    "Annoy her? She and I get along like soul mates."


    "That''s what worries me."


    Max beamed at her again until she pointed past him toward a roped off section of the bar. Cafe tables sprinkled waxed floor up so couples could have a romantic candlelit space to relax. It was noticeably quieter her which lent itself to whispering sweet nothings. He picked up his half-empty beer and wandered in that direction. Once more eyes followed him as he passed the dance floor and entered the private area.


    Violet noticed him right away which may have been the way all conversation stopped as he slid into a booth. She frowned at his beer and threw a glance toward the bar. Quinn was making himself busy mixing drinks as he tried to hide a mischievous smile.


    "What are you doing here?" she growled after stomping over.


    "I wanted to see you," he replied, and she stared him, suspicion evident on her face. "You don''t believe me?"


    "No," she said flatly.


    "Fine, I''ll be honest. I came here to find a weapon." He said a little more loudly than necessary.


    "You could have just gone to the armory," she hissed glancing around.


    "You are heaven''s gatekeeper. I can''t contract with Friday without your permission." He said and glanced past Violet''s glare to the tables around them. All eyes were on him, and he smiled.


    "And what if I say no?"


    "Quinn''s bar is my kind of place. The people here are starting to grow on me." He admitted and could hear the collective hush. Even the music seemed to quieten, so everyone caught his next words. "Ladies, gentlemen¡ª" he paused to wink at several. "If you want to contract with me forward all inquiries through Violet."


    "What if I drag three men home for you."


    "You wouldn''t do that knowing I like women. You''ve spent too long protecting other weapons from evil Meister''s like me." Max said with a cackle, and Violet glared at him.


    "What-do-you-want?" She asked enunciating each word.


    "Can I have another beer, some of those romantic candles, and permission to contract with Friday tonight?" He asked. Violet¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, then spun away without saying a word. Max briefly wondered if he needed her. Violet''s antics were no longer cute. Then again, did he need her permission? It would make things easier, but he suspected Friday would give in sooner or later. He''d seen the desire in her eyes, but he decided getting permission would easier than forgiveness for once. None of the AI''s seemed the type to forget.


    Violet was barely out of the area when the women moved in. Two weapons sat in the seats opposite while a third squeezed in next to him.


    "You are looking for weapons to contract with?" The woman asked leaning in close. She had light brown hair, green eyes, and a very pink tongue that licked across her lips.


    "I am," he admitted. "I planned to give Friday and Violet a chance, but if that falls through I''ll be forced to find other options.¡± He said turning to the small group of women. ¡°I''m surprised you ladies are interested. I figured you''d go for a female Meister."


    "Romance is one thing, but a Meister is a Meister," a Spanish featured woman said opposite him. She and her Asian date sat close together in the booth. Close enough they were almost spooning.


    [Add a small conversation about being used. How it feels to be slammed fire in quick succession.]


    "We could ask you the same thing. You''re here in Quinn''s bar, but you admit to being hetero."


    "I wasn''t lying when I said I like the people here. The men are fine, but I¡¯m not attracted to them."


    Violet returned with his beer. She set it down with exaggerated care then added a couple of lit candles to the table. She refused to look at Max, and instead, turned to the women in the booth.


    "Would you like anything?"


    "A panty dropper."


    "I''ll have a Martini, dry, with two extra olives."


    "Asaka saki," the Asian added shifting next to her date. Under the table, a barefoot slid across Max''s leg, and a hand squeezed his thigh. Max picked up his beer as Violet moved away, and he watched her hips as she stomped toward the bar. She was molten hot with her high heels and that slinky dress on. He dragged his attention back to his surroundings and noticed the private area was filling up. All of the nearby tables had conspicuously become crowded. All of them were trying to listen to the conversation over the music.


    "So, what are you?"


    "I''m an Arisaka Type 99," the Japanese girl offered first.


    "Spanish CETME in 7.62," her companion said, and Max turned to the brunette clutching his arm.


    "Winchester M87 Trenchgun," she said, and he glanced over the women. Two of the girls were World War-era weapons and the CETME not much after. Maybe that was the real reason these women have given up finding a Meister at the Armory. He wouldn''t call the girls bad guns, but none were modern firearms.


    Violet returned far more quickly with their drinks, which spared him from answering right away. He leaned back against the seat as she set the glasses down. Afterward, she moved to the other tables to take more orders. Max watched her shapely ass as it hopped from customer to customer. Maybe Violet''s actions made sense if he looked at it differently. What if she was embarrassed by her decision to drop Max, and the fact Friday called her on it. If she continued to act bitchy and Max contracted with another weapon, she''d be vindicated. Were these AI capable of that level of rationale? Had this exact situation come up in something Violet read or watched on TV? Or was she planning that far ahead? He could test that theory by being more agreeable to Violet, but his musings were interrupted by a gravelly female voice behind him.


    "I thought I''d find you here," Calamity said stepping up to his table with an expression of mixed betrayal and desire. She still wore her tight leather pants but ditched the black jacket for a simple tanktop. He reacalled the delicious way they¡¯d jiggled as they¡¯d fucked. Cal crossed her arms over her chest as she noticed his lingering gaze. Next to her was Yohan, dressed in desert khaki''s and a tight tank top. Another woman wearing the noob uniform approached next.


    "Cal, it''s nice to see you again. Who''s your new friend?" He asked glancing at the new Meister. The woman had shoulder-length blond hair, amber colored eyes, and a predatory smile. He guessed she was about six feet tall with a lean, muscled build. The Meister probably had two or three points into strength, but no more.


    "You don''t recognize her?" Calamity asked glancing at the second woman again. The Meister obviously just started the game because she still had the gray military slacks on. The gray jacket was missing, and a dark bra was visible beneath the white undershirt. A Smith and Wesson MP was tucked against her right hip, and four magazine pouches were lined up on her left side next to a black canvas dump pouch. Her amber eyes returned his appraising stare. The woman¡¯s face was cast in cream-colored stone with a finely chiseled nose and chin. Her lips were thin and turned up in a perpetual feral grin.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "Should I?"


    "You''re the one that gave me her contact info."


    "Wolfe?" He asked turning to fully look at the woman.


    Impossible, she should be on deployment. Max thought as they scanned her noob uniform again. Besides, it had only been eight or nine hours since he''d left Calamity in a well fucked and agitated state. For Wolfe to read the message, find a pod, and locate a copy off the game, she''d have to be back in the states. The second Meister continued to stare at Max with her Amber eyes.


    He turned to the three weapons in the booth, who were watching the byplay with interest. "I''m going to need some privacy with my friends." He said, and they quickly slid out, but not before pushing their phone numbers across the table.


    "You are doing well for yourself," Cal growled as she sat in the vacated seat. Max shrugged.


    "I''m looking for a weapon, and I¡¯m trying to be a little more discerning," he replied with a playful smirk.


    Calamity gave him a kick under the table as she finished sliding into the booth. Yohan sat next to Max, and Wolfe, if it was her, took the last spot.She slid in last next to Cal, then searched his face. Max hadn''t exactly gone out of his way to replicate his former face. Wolfe''s character looked nothing like her butch ''chew belt leather'' self in real life. She looked more like a movie star than a hardened navy seal.


    "Good to see you, Fuzz." Max said holding out a hand. Her amber eyes lingered on his giant sized palm for a second then she took it. Her grip was firm and quick, and he decided she had three strength score.


    "Cummander," she replied deliberately emphasizing the first syllable. Her voice wasn''t quite the same, but that grin brought back so many memories.


    "Wait, he''s an officer?" Calamity asked in surprise.


    "Surprised?" he inquired returning Calamity¡¯s disbelieving stare. He winked at last, then returned to Wolfe who settled back in her seat.


    "I''ve been in a funk, and hearing from my favorite author lifted my spirits, but she still won''t tell me how you met."


    "We met here," Max said tapping the table.


    "I didn''t know you were gay, but that does explain things," she said tilting her head, and Max decided not to comment. It would take far to long to explain, so it was better to change the subject.


    "I take you agreed to help?"


    "I''ve got nothing better to do," Wolfe replied with a touch of bitterness. Then she turned to Cal with an apologetic expression. "Would give me a few minutes with Max? It¡¯s been a while and we''re going to talk shop."


    "I suppose I can go look for a real man," she said leveling another glare at Max. The two women shuffled places, and Yohan followed her from the private area. That left Wolfe and Max, if you didn''t count a dozens hungry weapons listening in. Calamity walked past the dance floor.


    "You fucked her, didn''t you?"


    "I''d say it was none of your business, but that might as well be a confession. Why?"


    "Cal puts up a brave front, but I don''t think she''s as emotionally centered as she pretends."


    "Maybe all those romance novels have filled her head with unrealistic expectations," he replied glancing over his shoulder. "Looks like she''s adapting well enough. Cal''s already flirting with the boys by the pool table, and judging by the response, she''ll walk out of the bar one contract slot fuller."


    "What the hell happened to you?" Wolfe suddenly asked.


    "I died, obviously¡­"


    "I went to your wake, and wasted some forty-year-old whiskey on you. No one suspected you''d made the jump to digital." Wolfe said. Max was reminded of the enormous gap in his memory, and that was a topic he chose not to explore just yet.


    "I''m more interested in you, Wolfe. Why the hell are you here?" He asked in reply, and Wolfe''s amber eyes narrowed at his evasion. "I get that you want to help your favorite author, but you should be on deployment." It took Wolfe a long time to answer. She licked her lips and picked at the wood grain of the table as she organized her thoughts.


    "They refused to brevet me. Instead, they brought in some West Point weenie with pedigree and contacts." She growled.


    "That doesn''t explain why you''re here?"


    For almost a minute she chewed her lip before her desire to tell someone finally broke through the Op Sec. Wolfe leaned over the table with a deadly calm face.


    "Beta team''s dead," she said, and Max''s eyebrow rose.


    "The weenie botched it that badly?"


    "Oh, it was worse than that. The mission was supposed to be like Africa. Get a team into a ghost farm, connect to the servers, and wait for them to do their techno-magic. Only this time, it was in the middle of a city. Alpha and Beta would go in while Charlie and Delta stayed on overwatch. Fucking new Lieutenant wanted to show he had the cajones to lead, so he ¡®had¡¯ to be the first Seal inside." Wolfe said using her fingers in quotation. THen she leaned over to steal his half-empty beer, and drain it in a single swig. He let out a throaty growl then continued with, "Maybe that''s what saved Diego''s life, which is small consolation for him."


    "What happened?" Max asked with a growing sense of horror. He''d nurtured the teams for years, and he knew everyone by name.


    "I wasn''t there on Alpha like normal. The Lieutenant saw fit to reorganize the teams when he took over, so I was in Delta. "The two teams breached either end of the warehouse. Flashes go off, and everyone goes in with silenced mp5¡¯s, you know cause¡­ we¡¯re not supposed to be there. Less than a minute later, a robot¡ªa fucking robot¡ªcomes trundling through the door with what was left of Alpha Team. The thing was an oversized bomb-bot like the ones Demolitions use. We couldn''t shoot at it cause it had Diego in one claw, and his missing leg in another.


    "Dropped him on the ground like a sack of spoiled meat and went back inside for Simpson and Welsh. The last thing it brings out is pieces of the Lieutenant. We went in for retrieval. Simpson and Welsh were only unconscious, and we got Diego back to the hospital. I suppose it was a good thing we already in the city.


    "You said Beta team was gone."


    "Oh shit, yeah. I was watching the west entrance. There were more robots on the east side and the second one wasted Beta team. After collecting Diego and the others, I called a retreat. Brass was not happy, but the Lieutenant was dead, so fuck em." Wolfe said sniffing at the leftover saki then gulped the contents.


    "Damn."


    "I''ve been pushing papers stateside while they organize my discharge. It''s taken this long cause the nutsacks don''t have to guts to section eight me. That would mean a full report, so I''ve been sitting on my thumbing waiting for my term to end. Well, I''ve been visiting Diego in rehab. They fitted him with a prosthetic leg, and it sounds like they''re going to discharge him next." She finished, and Max sat back as Wolfe hunted through the other empty glasses for residual alcohol. Max decided not to ask who was on Beta team. He really didn¡¯t want to know.


    "I''m glad you''re ok," he finally said, and Wolfe shrugged giving up her search. It was lame and unhelpful, but it was the best had at the moment. The fact they were trying to section eight Wolfe meant the higher-ups were desperately trying to hide something. He was no doe-eyed angel. Max knew the US military had its fair share of skeletons. Now he understood why she was willing to break protocol.


    "Mercedes¡ªer Calamity¡ªemailed me this morning and thought ''Fuck it. I''ve got time to kill now,'' so I went out and bought a dive helmet."


    "The reports of my death were mostly true. I was driving home with this hot piece of tail when an Escort slammed into my driver side door. It¡¯s kind of a blur, and I can''t remember everything, except that I agreed to be digitized. Then I woke up on the Net somewhere like a bad detective novel. I more or less stumbled upon Gun Meister." He said catching sight of purple hair, and tattoos.


    "Violet!" Max called, and the pistol turned in his direction. Her silver eyes narrowed, but she came over after a short hesitation.


    "Two shots of Quinn''s finest," he said and glanced at the woman. Violet held an empty drinks tray against her chest like a round shield. Max reminded himself he was going to be nicer. "Please," he added after a moment. It took only a minute for the weapon to return with two shot glasses. She set them down.


    Wolfe collected her shot-glass and they both stood in the booth. Max looked into her eyes which had started to moisten with tears. Her jaw was set and her shoulders stiffed as she held her drink.


    "To Fallen Brothers," Max said solemnly.


    "To Fallen Brothers, Wulfe repeated and drained the scotch. The dark amber liquid burned the back of his throat and made his stomach grow warm. Too bad it wouldn''t get him drunk. Violet continued to stand there watching them, so he turned to her.


    "Can we get two beers? I forgot to ask before." He asked, and her eyes changed subtly. She nodded, and came back less than a minute later with two full glasses. Max supposed being nice was paying off with better service at least.


    "Did you already get some training in?"


    "God¡­ I''m glad she emailed me. We went to the range before coming here, and oooph¡­ She is abysmal at shooting. I can tell she''s never held a gun in her life. Everything she''s learned is from online research, so I had made her forget some idiotic advice. After she almost shot me, we decided to take a break." Wolfe said slowly pushing from the booth. Behind her, the female weapons leaned closer. Either she didn''t notice a dozen women staring at her ass, or she was used to it.


    "Nice to know im not the only one she took a shot at." Max said glancing over his shoulder. Calamity stood with arms crossed next to the dance floor not willing to enter the private area. Yohan, and a medium height man with messy brown hair and brooding eyes waited behind her.


    "Tomorrow we plan on going back to the training center if you want to come."


    "I should get a phone soon, but I''ll join you two tomorrow," Max replied, and Wolfe raised her hand in an almost salute. She glanced at the offending appendage then quickly left with a ''whatever'' wave instead.


    "That''s if you have any weapons tomorrow," Violet said returning to the table.


    The woman wants you to snap at her. Max reminded himself and smiled at her.


    "You have the power to decide that," he admitted pushing from the table as well. "I''m going back to the apartment to watch some television and take a nap. I want to be at full strength when you get off shift." He said walking around the woman. Max was almost out earshot when he heard his name. He paused near the dance floor, and Violet jogged up. She leaned in close to his ear to speak over the loud music.


    "Can you take Rusty home, since your going that way?"


    "I can," he said and Violet led him toward the back hall. Quinn winked at him as they passed the bar. Violet pushed open the second door revealing a cramped office. Just inside was a small couch which rusty was laying upon. The bronze colored retriever was watching a pompous little dog pageant on a 12 inch TV on the desk. Rusty looked up as they entered and Max was struck the dog''s intelligent eyes. Until now he hadn''t given the animal much thought.


    "Max is heading home," Violet said and the dog whuffed before returned his gaze to the TV. Violet looked back at Max, and he shifted in the doorway so he could watch with interest. "I''m going to take Friday to dinner after our shift. They don''t allow pets in Leandra''s. Especially after you snuck into the kitchen and ate every spicy sausage." Rusty made a low sound in his throat like he was thinking about it. Then after a few seconds, he stretched and hopped down from the leather couch. Max backed into the hallway, and Rusty trotted past. He supposed walking the dog home would let the two women talk and make a decision about him.

 Contract

    As soon as they entered the penthouse door, Rusty bounded for the leather couch and pawed the over-sized remote. The television came on and he plopped down like Rusty owned the placed. His keen chocolate eyes fixed on the 84-inch plasma screen, and the Pedigree Dog Pageant still airing. A little French poodle with a poofy tail pranced down the dog walk next to her handler.


    Oh, god no. Max had no intention of watching a Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. He figured there was a channel for watching Competition matches. He sank wearily onto the couch next to the golden retriever and reached for the remote. Rusty''s forepaw caught the plastic device and his head swiveled in Max''s direction, and gave him a ''don''t even try it,'' stare. Their eyes remained locked, and the dog''s expression proved it was smarter than a simple scripted creature. The dog had to be an AI like Violet and Friday.


    "Let me change the channel at least, and I''ll find something in the fridge for you," Max said, and Rusty returned his gaze to television, unimpressed by the offer. Next up was a female chocolate lab, and Rusty whuffed in appreciation. Its tail happily wagged back and forth as she trotted down the dog walk. When Lab turned to trot back, Rusty gave her retreating ass a throaty hoof.


    "We seriously have to watch this?" Max asked, throwing his hands up. Rusty made no reply, but his tail began to wag excitedly as a Golden Retriever with silky fur and innocent brown eyes trotted out next. This sham was little better than a swimsuit competition for canines.


    I should have stayed at the bar, Max thought darkly. He glanced at the clock and saw it barely past three. The girls wouldn''t get off shift until six, and there was no telling how long dinner would take. Crossing his arms, Max sat back against the leather couch. Thankfully, it wasn''t as bad as he''d feared, and the dog show ended soon after the final stage walk. The next program was an old cop drama that followed a Sergent and his canine partner.


    "Violet said you''ve been with them since January, so you must have seen quite a few Meister''s come and go?" Max asked, and Rusty looked at him.


    "I wonder if she''s always been so cynical?" He mused before Rusty returned his attention to the show and Max sighed.


    Why am I looking for advice from a dog? He thought and forced himself back to Canine Cop. Time slowly passed and one episode turned into two, then three. Before long, the sky grew orange from the setting sun.


    Rusty heard the penthouse door unlock first. He rose on all fours and turned as it flew open. A tangle of grasping arms and supple legs stumbled inside. One of them managed to push the door closed before they were kissing again. Rusty pushed the patio door open and made a wise tactical retreat. Max watched with interest as the pair staggered toward the living room like a four-legged mutant. They bumped into the couch. Their lips unlocked, and Friday turned in his direction. She extended a hand toward Max, fingers reaching. Purple lips sucked at Friday''s neck as fingers wrapped around her wrist.


    "You agreed to let me tied you up if I said yes," Violet purred, before bitting at the other woman''s jugular.


    "Yes," Friday breathed, and they continue their drunken dance towards the bedroom. Violet nudged her through the doorway, and both disappeared inside.


    Less than a minute later, Violet returned. The mid-length leather jacket was gone revealing a slinky black tube top and matching miniskirt. Her silver eyes glowed as she gestured for Max to join them. He needed no further invitation and jogged over. She put a hand against his chest, preventing him from entering. Her painted fingernails scratched across his neck and down his shirt. Over her shoulder, Max could see Friday standing next to the bed with her hands bound above her. The handcuffs were attached to a hook in the ceiling. The only clothing she wore on was a pair of white lace panties. Her eyes glowed as well as she hungrily stared at them over her shoulder. Her breasts were as beautiful as he''d imagined, with dark brown nipples. He smiled, liking how things were turning out and the hours of watching dog shows already forgotten.


    "Take off your clothes and lay on the bed," Violet ordered, drawing his attention back to her. He quickly bent to untie his shoes and kicked them off. Violet waited until his belt unhooked before pushing him lightly into the bedroom. Max stumbled, hopping on one foot until he fell onto a colossal bed the size of four king-sized mattresses. Ten people could comfortably sleep together if they didn''t mind getting friendly.


    Both women watched him as he pulled his pants off, then his shirt, socks, and at last, his boxers. His erection popped free, and Friday gasped. Max knew his cock was big, possibly a side effect of his strength score, but even he was impressed. It had been too dark in Calamity''s apartment to appreciate his enormous size. Friday continued to stare at Max, while Violet pulled open the nightstand drawer and withdrew another set of handcuffs. Her skin was hot, and he ran his hands over her back and ass. Violet pushed him across the mattress, then tugged his wrists over his head, and handcuffed Max to the headboard. His cock twitched as she smiled down at him.


    "What you said to me struck a chord."


    "Oh?" he asked as she ran her nails over his bare chest. They raked along his stomach before combing through the black forest of pubic hair.


    "I wasn''t able to put my feelings into words, but I''ve been obsessed with power and control for months now. When you said it was my decision¡ª" Violet paused mid-sentence to trace her nail up his shaft. Her fingers couldn''t quite grasp him completely. Instead, Violet used those long nails to tease his hardening cock. "It made me shiver inside," Violet finished and closed her hand around his shaft. It twitched again as pre-cum made her fingers slippery.


    "We weapons are always in a submissive position. There are millions of Meisters worldwide, but there are tens of millions of weapons. We are the ones that hunt and beg for someone to use us." She said, examining the clear liquid. Max remembered the conversation from earlier today. The girls had been most eager to contract with just to be used. They described it like it was better than sex.


    Violet sniffed at her fingers then licked one and shivered. Her eyes momentarily closed, and she rolled off the bed toward Friday. The woman was squirming so much it looked like she was trying to start a fire by rubbing her thighs together. Violet circled behind her lover, the covered Friday''s mouth and nose with the slick hand that had been teasing Max. Friday huffed hard, breathing in Max''s scent like it was an exquisite perfume, then groaned and her eyes rolled apparent ecstasy. A tongue licked between Violet''s fingers, and the woman smiled.


    "You know this situation reminds me of Derek?" Violet asked, and Friday shook her head violently. Violet wrapped an arm around her lover in a tight hug but didn''t let go of her face.


    "He''s arrogant, cocksure of his superiority, and admitted he might not stick around. Not to mention he''s without a weapon, just like him..." Violet said looking over Friday''s shoulder at Max. Friday squirmed again and let out a muffled cry of protest. She let go of Friday and walked around, so they stared into each other''s eyes.


    "Do you still want him?"


    Friday bit her lip, fighting to think through the fire raging in her groin. Her gaze raked over Max before returning to Violet, and she squirmed again with impotent frustration.


    "I don''t think..." Friday began before Violet cupped her chin and forced her to look at Max again. Her blue eyes flashed with desperate hunger.


    "I can tell you want him, and I''m a sucker for that face," Violet said, and the two women kissed again. Their lipsticks smeared together before Violet broke free. "I''ll let you be first since you''ve waited so long."


    Violet kissed her way down Friday''s chest and stomach. She knelt before the other woman, grasped her panties, and pulled. The damn cotton stuck to her sex, refusing to let go. Then the patch was torn from the dam. Strings of clear honey dripped down her thighs, and the smell of bananas and gun oil filled the room.


    "You haven''t been this wet in a while," Violet cooed sliding her fingers through Friday''s trimmed patch of bronze pubic hair. Her fingers reached the woman''s wet and Friday moaned. Violet leaned forward licking up an errant string of sex with her tongue, then kissed Friday''s thigh leaving a purple pair of lips on the skin. She licked her way upward before pressing her face to Friday''s mound. Max watched with fascination as Friday shivered with pleasure and put one leg over Violet''s shoulder. She groaned again as Violet slid her tongue inside.


    Violet stood, and lifted Friday from the hook. Still handcuffed, she crawled across the bed on hands and knees. Friday straddled his legs before using her cuffed hands to drag herself against his body. Dark blue eyes danced with triumph as Friday made the summit of his hips. Without waiting, she kissed him, and he was surprised by how soft her lips were. They tasted of Italian spices and red wine.


    "Give me your hands," Violet ordered, and Friday broke the kiss. She offered her bound wrists and Violet joined the two together to the headboard. Then she sat back to watch with amusement as the two struggled. Friday''s ground her slick pussy back and forth along his shaft, and within seconds, his cock was slippery with her lube. Finally, she lifted herself high enough for Max to thrust upward.


    Violet tittered as his thick cock slipped along her thigh, missing her entrance again and again. Friday wasn''t helping as she coated his cock with even more hot honey. Finally, she reached between Friday''s legs and grasped Max''s erection by the base.


    "Oh fuck," Max groaned as Friday sank onto his cock. She was hot and wet like a woman, but the inside of her pussy felt alien. At first, it was impossible to sort through the torrent of pleasure slamming into his brain. She undulated atop him, and Max moaned as their hips bucked together. Her mouth closed over his again, and this time a tongue pushed into his open mouth. His cock slid back and forth along three fleshy grooves which twisted inside her sex, and Max finally guessed she was rifled. The realization didn''t diminish how incredible her pussy felt. On the contrary, he started to thrust harder.


    She broke their kiss, and rasped into his ear, "You said you''d finish in three minutes."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "There''s no way I''m going to last three more." He growled, and the woman shifted again. Her thighs tightened against his and forced him against the mattress. She didn''t stop entirely but slowed to crawl, and Max was grateful for the respite. "I don''t know why, but this feels so good. Like, fuck¡­ this can''t be real."


    Max glanced over at Violet. Her panties were gone, the mini skirt was pushed up her hips, and two fingers writhed inside her pussy. Her silver eyes moved over Friday and Max as they ground together. The purple nails were a dark blur as she furiously masturbated next to them.


    "I really did die, and go to heaven," Max moaned, and Violet rose to her knees. Violet reached down, pulling her tubetop off, then her miniskirt. She had beautiful white skin, which made the tattoo''s on her right side stand out. Her nipples were pink dots which reminded Max of a coconut cream puff. First, she approached Friday, and she pushed her finger''s into the woman''s eager mouth. Friday responded by rocking faster, and Max groaned again. Three minutes? He''d be lucky to last sixty seconds at this point.


    Violet turned to Max then and bent low, so they were face to face. Friday moaned loudly, and her rhythmic pace increased again. Violet stared into his eyes as he fought to keep control. Then she kissed Max, and all semblance of resistance slipped through his grasp. The orgasm ripped past his defenses and sundered his mind as the pistol pushed her tongue into his mouth. Tremors of bliss continued to shudder through Max like little aftershocks. A deft tongue toyed with his while Friday continued to milk his essence. Finally, Violet pulled away, breaking the kiss, and they both looked to Friday. The woman, still moaning, rocked and forth as drool ran down her chi.


    "I should be annoyed, but it makes sense."


    "What does?" Max asked as Friday continued drunkenly grind atop him. He noticed a black collar circled her throat with several glowing numbers on the side.


    "You''ve got a ton of contract slots, and Friday hasn''t had a Meister for so long her pleasure quotient went crazy," Violet said releasing Friday''s wrists from the headboard. She sank in a boneless heap atop him until Violet pushed her to side.


    Friday whimpered as Max finally slid from her sex, but he was quickly distracted. To his surprise, Violet immediately straddled his head, so Max got a close-up view of her pussy. Her sex looked like a vertical slit, and unlike Friday, her mound was shaved smooth. A small silver ring pierced her clitoris. What he found fascinating was the strong scent of gun oil and fouling rolling off her.


    She looked down at him from above, smiled like a Cheshire cat, and asked, "Like what you see?" His response was cut off by her muff attacking. Porcelain flesh parted against his lips, and his tongue licked up into her pink pussy. She didn''t produce nearly as much lube as Friday, but Violet was sweet like pixie sticks. He would have grabed her thighs, held her against his mouth, but his hands were still cuffed to the headbroad. Instead, long delicate fingers grabbed his hair as her pussy ground against his face.


    "Oh, fuck¡­" she gasped, and more lube leaked out and across his chin. Violet braced herself against the wall as her hips rocked faster still.


    "Yeah, eat me like a good little boy," she growled hungrily. That''s when Friday attacked from behind. She''d stealthily strapped on a dildo and climbed onto the bed. Her arms wrapped around Violet in a bearhug as the strap-on slid into Violet''s darkest of entrances. Violet gasped, and her body shivered as the dildo slid inside. Max saw no reason to stop, so he pressed his tongue into Violet''s pussy. Liquid poured past his hunting mouth and down over his chin.


    Violet was surprisingly loud, and the sound was so hot, his cock twitched in revival. Her hips bucked, and Max found himself gnawing on the silver clit ring. It clicked against his teeth as his tongue swirled around the woman''s engorged alter. He lost himself in Violet''s porcelain muff, and within minutes, her cries filled the bedroom.


    Suddenly Violet was yanked off, and Friday was unlocking his handcuffs. She quickly worked the keys into the cuffs and they popped open.


    "Quickly, Max," Friday said they both turned on Violet. The woman was still recovering as Friday pinned her shoulders to the bed. Max straddled her legs and managed to grab her wrists.


    "You''re right," Friday said, kissing her forehead. "I wanted Max, and I know deep down, you do too." Violet struggled, and Max had a hell of a time keeping her wrists together. The weapon was inhumanly strong.


    "You have to know it''s OK to give in. If you control everything, then you risk nothing." Friday said, and Violet considered her answer. Max waited patiently while Violet made up her mind. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Violet stilled. Max released her wrists, which freed up his hands to hold her hips in place. The rosebud of her anus made a perfect target, and he pressed the head of his cock inside. He slid into her, and her insides wrapping around his cock like fist. She clearly wasn''t human, and Max groaned in pleasure.


    The faint outline of a collar formed, and he smiled as Violet began moaning again. Her cries quickly filled the air as he pressed her hard into the mattress. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Friday slide off the bed. She removed the strap-on and dropped it to the carpet. Then she crawled to her lover and cupped her face with both hands. The moaning temporarily abated as Friday pressed her mouth to Violet''s.


    "That''s it," Friday coaxed smoothing Violet''s purple hair back. "Let him have you. Doesn''t it feel good to give in?"


    Violet moaned, and Max had to agree. His orgasm rushed toward him with a speed he thought impossible considering Friday just drained him. He reached down, grabbing Violet¡¯s pale supple ass, and spread them apart. Then Max drove himself in to the hilt and shuddered from head to foot as he came. Violet wailed and clawed at the silk bedsheets. Her knees bent, her toes curled, and her lithe back bowed as the orgasm rent her asunder. A deep gutteral groan escaped her as Violet''s body writhed underneath him. Finally, he withdrew and fell back against the headboard.


    "It''s not like me to gush, but wow. I don''t think I''ve cum that hard since I was 16." Max said with an exhausted sigh.


    "That was incredible¡ª" Friday sighed sliding up to his side. Violet slowly rolled over, and still shivering, crawled up to Max''s left side. Both women clasped hands over his chest.


    "I reluctantly have to agree," Violet admitted, and settled her head into the crook of his shoulder. Max suppressed the victorious grin that threatened to spread over his face. Violet let go of Friday''s hand long enough to rake her fingers across his chest. Her nails left little scratches.


    "Thank you for contracting with me. I may not have much money, but I''ll go subscribe to prove I''ll be sticking around."


    "That''s good to hear," Friday said turning her head to kiss his cheek.


    "Speaking of money, I want you both to keep working at the bar. Violet said it''s common practice to quit when finding a Meister, but the penthouse is ridiculously expensive, and I can''t afford it right now.


    "We could move, but it took us forever to find this place," Friday said sliding a leg over his.


    "And put all your stuff into storage? That would probably cost just as much. Besides, the view from the balcony is worth the price. No, I''ll have to play matches between your work schedules." He said while stroking a hand over their bare skin. They shivered at his touch, and turned to press against his body.


    "Quinn will be happy to hear that," Violet mused and lowered her hand to his groin. His manhood had softened, but that didn''t stop her from stroking him several times. For a while, they lay naked together on the rumpled mattress touching and caressing one another. Then the door to the bedroom nudged open, and Rusty jumped onto the bed. He glanced at Max between the two women, then went over to Friday and snuggled under her right arm.


    "It must be good to be so carefree." Max thought as Friday pet the dog behind the ears. That did remind him he had part of the rent.


    "Oh, I have another ten thousand for my share of the rent."


    "Keep it. You''re going to need that for mod shopping tomorrow. Armor, even basic ballistic vests are a couple thousand credits. Magazines and weapon accessories aren''t cheap, either."


    "I see."


    "Now that your silver, you could technically get another weapon thanks to the extra contract slot. However, only at Gold rank and above will you be able to bring two or more weapons into a match." Friday said running a hand over his chest. Despite the drama, and no small amount of hassle, he was pleased to have both weapons. However, the thought of dealing with even more women terrified him just a little.


    "I''m in no rush, so maybe I''ll wait a while. Besides, if you''re right about how much mods are, then I don''t have the credits to bling a bunch of guns." He said, and they fell silent. Friday occupied herself with giving Rusty ear scratches, and saying how good a boy he was.


    "Guess I''ll go change my subscription then," Max added and touched his temple with two fingers. The system menu appeared, and he selected the logout button. Sensations crawled to a slithering stop, and the room swirled past into the darkness.


    Shortly, Max was standing back in the bar at the spaceport. The place was empty except a single employee, and he recognized the woman from his first trip here. The distinctive lavender hair was hard to forget. She was leaning against the counter, wiping the bar top down. She smiled at him as he finished loading and tucked the towel into her back pocket.


    "Well, hello again! Did you come back to visit?"


    "I wanted to add subscription time to my account," Max replied sliding onto an empty bar stool.


    "I''m glad to hear you''ll be sticking around. There''s a 10% discount if you subscribe for three months, 20% if you sub for six months, and 30% for a full year." She said pulling a tablet out from behind the bar.


    "How much for three months?"


    "Eighty-Four dollars," the woman said activating the tablet and spinning it towards him. Max only had a thousand dollars to his name aside from the crypto-currency in his inventory. That was his nest egg, and with no way to make any money, he faced the real possibility of becoming a digital vagrant. Still, he¡¯d promised to put some time on his account for Friday and Violet.

 Next Day

    Max rubbed his wrists, where the handcuffs chaffed the skin red. Friday sat on the edge of the bed pulling on a pair of deceptively innocent panties. They slid up her thighs, and she stood briefly to settle them into place. Then she rolled white stockings up her legs like coconut frosting on a pina¡¯ colada cake. He licked a tongue across his lips, thinking about last night. After subscribing, Max logged back in to find himself handcuffed to the bed. Friday was perched atop him and wasted no time in mounting him. She''d treated Max like personal sex toy, then woken him twice more that night to satisfy herself. His gaze must have lingered because a flush slowly crept across Friday''s face.


    "Stop it, your making me self conscious," Friday said reaching for a G-sized white bra.


    "What? I can''t look at you?" Max grunted and continued to watch Friday. She pushed her arms through the bra straps, clipped the back together, then adjusted her plump breasts into the cups. The woman was thick around the thighs and bust, but she was miles from fat. Voluptuous or curvy might be the right word for it.


    "Friday''s got a complex about her figure, and you can thank Derek for that. A weapon''s first Meister has the biggest impact on our personality, and the prick could never pass up the chance to say something demeaning." Violet snarled. She came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her torso, and a comb in her hand.


    "He was probably worried you''d dump him and go looking for better prospects," Max replied, and Violet sank onto the mattress next to him. Then immediately attacked the tangles in her hair.


    "Towards the end, he was so lazy he''d run maybe two matches a week, and the rest of the time was spent complaining about everything."


    "I see."


    "No, I mean everything. If it wasn''t the ranking system, it was the rampant cheaters¡ª"


    "There are cheaters?" Max interrupted.


    "There''s always some fool who think they can cheat the system. When the admins find one, they drop a slug from space. Anyway, when Derek wasn''t smack talking the game, it was Friday or me, and how lame the sex had become... like it was our fault." Violet said as her assault on the tangles continued.


    "Well a certain someone knows how to work a man over. I had no idea you could start a mattress fire like that." Max teased, and Friday had the good grace to blush. She disappeared into the walk-in closet, so max went hunting for his clothes.


    "What time do you both work?"


    "I start at four, and Friday at six."


    "We''ve got the whole morning then," he said, pulling on his pants. Violet lowered her comb and watched Max struggle into his shirt with amusement. "Best if things continue as normal. We''ll visit the mall, then hit up the competition center before your shift start." Max added locating a sock under a pair of discarded panties. The second hung over the lampshade. He gathered his shoes, and pushed his feet inside, then started to work the laces together. Violet finished brushing her hair and unfurled shower towel. Max froze mid shoelace as she crossed the room butt naked and pulled open the dresser''s top drawer. A brace of skulls on her arm, hip, and thigh jeered at Max like the ghosts of former rivals. The tattoo was awe-inspiring but reminded Max that he wasn''t close to her first Meister. She returned to his side with a thong and matching bra. He reached over and ran his hand up her thigh counting them.


    "Nine former contracts," he said, and Violet pulled her thong up.


    "Ten, technically, if we count you. After Derek, the longest to stick around was two and a half weeks." She said holding out a hand. Max passed her the bra.


    "Sounds like most of my relationships," Max admitted.


    Friday came out of the closet finally wearing a mid-length white dress. The stockings rose to within a few inches, so a bit of thigh showed. Max whistled in appreciation. Violet stood the two women kissed, then threw a withering glare at Max.


    "What the caveman means, is that he likes it," Violet patted Friday on the ass before entering the closet next. She turned to Max, and he nodded.


    "I do," Max replied, searching for his gun-belt, then remembered it was in the guest room. He followed Friday out into the living room and over to his. He slipped on the Glock holster, pistol pouches, and the karambit knife. After double checking his gear, he wandered out into the kitchen.


    "You can stay in the master bedroom if you want," Friday suggested, a touch hopefully.


    "Then I''d never get a good night''s sleep," Max said and she stuck her tongue out. Violet came out the bedroom, at last, wearing a blood-red jacket, and a pair of jeans so shredded only a leather belt kept them on.


    "Caveman like that too," Max growled walking over. Violet pushed him back as he groped for her ass. She patted his cheek on the way passed and snatched the car keys off the hook.


    "Let''s get going," she said, and they went down to her car.


    ¡°Your first purchase should be armor. It''ll be the most expensive thing you buy today.¡±


    ¡°What are the different types?¡± He asked opening the car door. Max gestured for Friday to climb in, and she patted his other cheek. Max climbed into the back, while Violet turned the car over. Friday continued her instruction by half turning in her seat. They backed out and onto the early morning street.


    ¡°There are three categories of armor; light, medium, and heavy. The difference is the tradeoff between protection and encumbrance. Light armor is easy to move in, while heavy armor will slow you drastically but gives the best protection.¡± Friday said looking back at him.


    "You won''t have the credits for a full suit. Vests cover the torso, but will leave your arms and legs vulnerable." Violet added.


    "What do you suggest?" He asked, and the two women conferred in a short huddle.


    "His agility is only at one point, so maybe he''s better off getting light armor?" Friday suggested, and immediately, Violet shook her head.


    "He''s better off working with his endurance stat for survivability. Wearing heavy armor will make him harder to kill." She said, and Friday chewed her lip for second before nodding in agreement. They turned to him, but Friday was the one that spoke.


    "You could compromise by wearing medium armor," She said, and Max turned to look at the woman walking out of the store. She strutted past him at a good clip before disappearing down the corridor.


    "I should have put more points into Agility."


    "Every situation is different, and no stat dominates the others. Let''s say three Meister''s step into a room at the same time. A Strength based character will likely carry a heavy caliber machine gun into combat. That''s why they''re called Heavy Support. His weapon will be a hard counter against an Endurance Tank. An Agility based Flanker should be a difficult target to track for a Heavy Support. Of course, these are extreme examples. A Meister can pick whatever armor and weapon they want." Friday lectured and Violet nodded in agreement. They turned into the mall¡¯s lot, which was nearly empty, parked, and entered the mall. The girls led him past the food court.


    Full Protection was a small store tucked toward the back of the mall. Despite the early hour, a woman was just leaving the dressing room. She wore a black bodysuit that covered every inch of her, and he had to admit, the tight fabric emphasized her figure. Kevlar Ballistic patches strategically protected her vital organs, and a helmet shaped like a kitty cat hid her face. She quickly scanned at Max from head to foot, then went to pay for her new armor.


    Max walked down the aisle and picked up the first armored vest on the shelf. The Titan 2B tag listed a price of twenty-eight thousand credits, and he rolled his eyes.


    "Why is everything so damn expensive?" He asked in disgust, dropping the armor with the rest.


    "If things are cheap, they are too easily obtained. Meisters must work more to obtain the most valuable item," Violet replied and he frowned.


    "And thus play more," Max finished, but he supposed she had a point. Sluts held little interest to Max after he''d seduced them because the hunt was the fun part. The same went for the game. Players who got everything they wanted on the first day didn''t bother coming back. Sighing with regret Max strolled along the aisle until he found a lighter set, and flipped the tag to check the armor''s stats.


    _________


    Name - Dragonscale Tactical Vest


    Weight - 8.8kg


    Coverage - Thorax and Stomach


    Damage Resistance - 23%


    Encumbrance - 11%


    Credits - 12700


    __________


    There were a couple different color variations, but he picked out a slate gray vest. The front and back were covered in round Kevlar patches like old fashioned scale mail. More sets of medium armor lined the shelf, but they others offered less protection. A few aisles over he picked up a cheap chest rig for mag pouches.


    Then he carried everything to dressing room, and tried them on. Donning the armor filled Max with an odd sense of nostalgia. He adjusted the straps on the chest comfortably hugged his torso. He opened the door and stepped out, and took a few laps around the store. The movement penalty didn''t seem so bad, and he barely noticed the 11% difference. Max sucked in a deep breath, then stretched, and wheeled his arms around.


    "Are you happy with the armor?" Friday asked, and he nodded.


    "Good enough for now. I can always come back later and try something else." He said, and both women saddled up to his sides. Max draped an arm around each of them as they walked over to counter.


    "You two are holding hands, aren''t you?" Max asked and Friday started.


    "How did you know?"


    "One night of mind-blowing sex isn''t going to flip Violet''s attitude towards me," Max said and played with the collar of Violet''s red jacket. He glanced down, and added, "I wonder if fucking you every night like that would help."


    "Don''t make promises you can''t keep," She replied and he let go of the girls to ring up his items.


    __________


    Dragonscale Tactical Armor - 12700 credits


    Condor Scout Rig - 550 credits


    Total - 13250 credits.


    __________


    Max pressed his palm to the console and confirmed the transaction. Then stopped just outside to admire himself in the store''s window reflection. The grey scaled armor was a nice contrast against the white t-shirt, and he liked the way his muscles stretched the fabric. Damn if he wasn''t starting to look like a real soldier.


    "How much do you have left, Max?" Friday asked in an overly casual tone. Max noticed her watching him in the refection.


    "Eager for some mods?" He asked, and the woman quickly cleared her throat.


    "I could offer some advice¡­ depending on your credits," she suggested and he smiled. The first day, Violet had left him on his own, and she still didn''t seem to care. Violet''s hands were stuffed into the jacket pockets while she affecting a bored expression. She''d probably lost more mods than he could ever afford.


    "I''ve got just over four-thousand credits left," he admitted moving to embrace Friday. Max dropped his arm over her shoulders again, and they wandered down the corridor.


    "Magazines and ammo are something every Meister needs, but many forget to buy a sling. Then they have to carry the weapon everywhere."


    "You make a good point," he said as they turned into the weapon store. "Why don''t you pick out a sling while I find an optic," Max suggested, and she turned those beautiful green eyes on him.


    "Really?"


    "Really," he replied prodding Friday forward, and she danced into the store ahead of them. She picked up a skeletonized foregrip like a kid in a toy store and pressed the plastic to her cheek.


    "She looks excited," Max mused as Friday disappeared down another aisle of handguards. Violet rolled her eyes, then detached herself from Max, and followed the sound of joyous squealing.


    The Scar-H was effective from medium and long range, especially against enemy snipers. However, it wasn''t much of a room clearer. The heavy round combined with the 16-inch barrel to make it awkward in close quarters. He needed a good optic to use the rifle to full advantage. He wandered towards the back wall where he quickly discovered how ridiculously expensive scopes were. A high-end 6x48 ACOG would have been his first choice, but that was over thirty-nine thousand credits, and the reflex sights were between five and seven thousand creds. A few 1 to 4 powered scopes were in his price range, but that felt like a waste of money. Max picked up a Vortex RMR and peered through the small window at the 1 MOA dot. Usually these went onto pistols, but they were also useful as backup CQB sights on a rifle. What if he bought this now, then moved to a side rail after he purchased a real scope? Heck, he could throw the RMR onto Violet after Friday was kitted out. Decision made he also bought Vortex Venom and mount, then wandered over to the foregrips. He picked out a BCM Vertical Grip.


    Finally, Violet come strolling up with Friday on a leash. The pistol tugged on the sling and Friday bounced up to Max. He held out his hand and Violet gave him the sling''s end. Friday beamed at him with unrepressed energy.


    "Good to see you''re as excited as I am," he said holding out his items. "How do we get these installed?"


    "No installation necessary. I need a moment of privacy to attach them," Friday said impatiently trotting to the changing room. Once inside, She locked the door, and a deep moan of pleasure echoed through the store. Flashes strobed around the door frame as woman and weapon manifested. Her cries of joy continued for almost a minute before the door open.


    "You can try the mods in the test range before you buy them. They can''t be returned once you leave the store,¡± Friday said, pointing to a row of ballistic windows.


    "We''ll do some trial runs at the competition center.


    "Sure."


    Friday began to glow, and Max was forced to look away as her skin flashed. When he looked back, a gold/bronze colored Scar-H in was laying on the ground. The FN symbol along with the weapon''s model and caliber, was printed near the safety selector. Max picked up the gun, and reflexively popped then ten-round factory mag free, then cleared the chamber. The buttstock was adjustable and he pulled out the slider until it was fully extended. He shouldered the Scar and peered through the miniature reflex sight at a nearby poster. The little red dot floated as he shifted his cheek on the rest. The new sling was already attached, but the foregrip was out of place. He liked to keep it as far forward as possible for better leverage, but Friday felt good in his hands.


    "Are you done?" Violet asked from nearby. Max pulled the sling over his head, then experimentally shouldered the weapon a few times.


    "Yeah. We''ve been shopping for almost two hours, and I''m supposed to meet Wolfe and Cal there." he let the weapon go, and it dropped across his chest.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Didn''t get everything I wanted, but it''s enough to run a few matches. All that''s left is rifle mags and ammo," He said and trooped up the register to pay. The clerk tapped at the console a few times, then turned the screen towards Max so he could accept the charges. At the Holster store Max bought several 20 round mags and enough pistol and rifle ammo to last the weekend.


    "Oh, how do I get a phone?" he asked as they left the store.


    "That''s easy. You can buy one at the kiosk near the food court. The number will be associated with your character ID, so people in game and real life can contact you."


    "Too bad I didn''t ask them their numbers," Max said with an ironic sigh. Still, Violet was helping him which was a good sign.


    "We weapons can read a Meister''s ID in case they make a sudden change in appearance. Just use the phone to search for them, and send a friend request." Violet said leading him to a little five by five booth. It was covered from top to bottom with smart-phones and accessories. Max selected a black phone with painted white skulls, paid for it with the last of his credit, and activated the number.


    With Violet''s help, Max sent both a friend request. Neither Wulfe or Cal had a phone so they didn''t respond immediately, but they were online. That probably meant they were training.


    "Now we can go shoot stuff!"


    "Whatever," Violet sighed as they exited the mall. It was still a chilly winter morning outside, and the low clouds continued to cling to the city skyline. The weather was dreary, and it looked like it would rain, but probably not for a few hours. Max glanced at the pistol as she walked beside him. Her eyes scanned the sky, then the parking lot, and to him, it seemed like she looking at everything but him. Was she pleased to have him back on contract? I briefly wondered if her indifference was a front. The weapons at Quinn¡¯s bar went on and on about how good it felt to be used. One admitted it was better than sex, which Max still found hard to believe.


    "Come on, it''s been almost a week since you''ve been used. Tell me you''re not looking forward to being held again?" He asked nudging her side. She ignored him, so Max saddled up closer and put a hand on her lower back between the jacket and her torn jeans. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear.


    "What''s it like?" He asked tracing her spine. With his other hand, he made a gun with his fingers, and aimed it at a nearby light pole.


    "Having your trigger slack taken up, and that delicious anticipation as your Meister aims at a target. Then the moment of release, the hammer falls, and bang!" He said squeezing the trigger.


    "What does it feel like?" he asked again.


    "Does it hurt? Does it feel like your being filled as a bullet is pushing down your barrel, building up speed? Your insides turning hot from expanding the gas. I imagine the best part is when the slide rocks back stripping the brass out and pushing in another round, so it all starts again." He breathed the last few words into her ear as they walked across the parking lot. Under his palm, Violet''s skin was noticeably warmer, and he rubbed his palm across the skin.


    "Max?"


    "Yes, Violet?" He asked innocently.


    "Get in the car," she growled and he smiled. Max yanked the passenger side door open, then removed the rifle sling, and sat with the Scar tucked between his legs. He patted his chest rig to make sure the new rifle mags were secure, then dropped the rest of the spare ammo on the car''s floor.


    The competition center was only a mile down the road, and it quickly came into view. The domed glass building looked like a beacon poking from the morning mists. Max looked east toward a feeble sun trying to poke through the gray cloud cover. He checked the radio clock and saw isn''t even ten yet, which explained the half-empty parking lot. They managed to find a space near the front of the building.


    "Is there a way to locate them?" Max asked as Violet pulled into the slot. He climbed out with Friday and threw the sling over his shoulder. It felt good to be armed again, and he stroked a hand across the rifle¡¯s bronze colored frame.


    "Didn''t she say they would be training?"


    "Yes," he replied slamming the door and joining Violet.


    "Then you''ll likely find them in the simulation rooms," she said and led the way through the glass doors. They passed the lobby elevators and down a set of stairs. A small dark-skinned man was manning the counter, and he directed them to the third door from the last.


    Two familiar women stood in the middle of a rubble-strewn warzone. Pot marked and partially destroyed buildings crowding either side. Calamity knelt behind a broken stone wall firing an assault rifle at something down the street. Bullets zipped past her head and she ducked instinctively. Wulfe stood behind a red line a few feet away without a care in the world.


    "Remember to keep the weapon on safe unless you know the enemies and have a sight picture. Eventually, flicking the selector on will become habit."


    A figure was visible in a third story window about eighty yards distant. The man was dressed in rags with an AK aimed in their direction. Instead of a face, a big ''X'' marked the front of his head like a doll or a mannequin. Cal poked her head up scanning the buildings, and the NPC fired again. The bullet tore a chunk from wall next to her head.


    "You might want to move," Wulfe suggested, and call crawled a dozen feet to her left. Then she popped up and settled the rifle atop the wall. The distant NPC shifted his AK, but Cal fired twice.


    "Good. The threat is gone, so take your finger off the trigger, and check for other threats." Wolfe instructed and Calamity turned her head to the left and right. She saw him standing by the door.


    "You''re here," she said standing up.


    "Good to see you found a primary weapon," he replied coming forward.


    "You realized I do have a gun now."


    "A cute threat, but rather hallow with the instant ban you''d receive. I still think you''re overreacting." He said stopping next to an overturned pickup. Ammo boxes and spare G36 magazines littered the ground around it.


    "How''s the training going?"


    "Trying to instill a little trigger discipline," Wulfe sight coming over.


    "I was hoping you''d show me some tactics like room clearing or whatever."


    "You can write about cutting the pie and checking corners, but understanding the weapon in your hands will make your book ten times more realistic. If all you want is a few buzz words there are plenty of neckbeards on the internet."


    "Ok, Ok, I see your point," she groaning joining them by the car. Cal dropped the magazines grabbed a fresh one from the pile on the car. Max glanced at Wulfe with a raised eyebrow. Why wasn''t Calamity carrying those magazines on her person? She shook her head minutely and Max kept what he was about to say to himself. He supposed Wulfe was keeping things simple for a reason.


    "Do you want to join the next round?" Wolfe asked and Max smiled. Fuck yeah he did.


    "I left my extra ammo in the car, but I''ve got enough for a few fights¡­ probably," he said patting his chest rig.


    Cal finished reloading then rested the weapon across her shoulder like she out fox hunting. The G36 was an excellent German made assault rifle. Aside from magazines she hadn''t bought anything for the weapon. Her eyes slid past Max, and they briefly sparkled with jealousy. He turned to see Violet standing directly behind him. She handed him to keys to her car, then transformed in a flash of light. A Glock appeared on the overturned vehicle. He picked up the pistol, reloaded the weapon with a fresh mag, then holstered it.


    "With two players, there will be more enemies to deal with." Wolfe walked over to the console. She activated it and started the same scenario again, then turned to watch. "Just stand by the wall. Enemies will pop out like a wild west film."


    He grabbed the Scar, raised it enough to jack a round into the chamber, then double checked the safety. Then they walked forward across the red line and into the simulation. Almost immediately, the sound of combat reached his ears. A large explosion rocked the area, and a dust cloud rose into the sky several blocks away. Max glanced to his right and saw Cal nervously kneeling behind the wall. Her weapon already pointed down the street. Her thumb was poised on the selector switch as she aimed through the iron sights.


    Max kept his shoulders loose as his eyes scanned to the city street. In the distance, another explosion went off. Cal shifted on her knee and aimed the weapon on the building closest to the rising dust cloud. A black helicopter flew overhead, and rockets along its stubby wings tore through a third story apartment. Several figures emerged from the alley near collapsing building and sprinted across the street. Two of carried old RPG-7s while another pair lugged a crew served machine gun between them.


    "Tango''s at 50 meters," he called raising his weapon. By the time his red dot was on target two of the Tango''s were already gone. He fired two rapid shots, and the weapon bucked against his shoulder. The first crewman exploded in a shower of pretty sparkles as the 7.62mm slugs slammed into his chest. The recoil wasn''t nearly as bad as he''d expected, but thanks to that, his next two shots only hit pavement.


    Calamity jerked her gun back from where she''d been aiming, and shot at the fourth retreating figure. The round struck the building''s concrete kicking up dust, but he disappeared with the heavy weapon. Max wondered if that MG was going to make a reappearance at the worst possible moment.


    For almost a minute nothing happened, and the rattle of distant gunfire continued to close in. Cal kept shifting from building to building, while Max hadn''t even bothered taking cover. He stood behind the wall with his weapon at the low ready.


    It wasn''t bad training, he thought as another explosion blew up a building nearby. Max looked up as two jets screamed overhead. All the gunfire and explosions were designed to get the heart rate up. There was no way to predict where the enemy would come from, so this taught the Meister to keep his eyes moving. Calamity had played the scenario enough that she knew to check for snipers.


    "Enemy, uhh, the fourth floor," she called raising the G36 to her shoulder. He was going to ask for more information, but a group of tangos ran out of a nearby doorway. They were only fifteen meters away and carrying an assortment of small arms. A couple skidded to a stop, but most ran at them screaming in a local dialect, which was odd considering they didn''t have mouths. He raised the weapon to his shoulder and thumbed the rifle all the way to full auto. The red dot centered on a burka-clad woman carrying a pistol.


    He squeezed the trigger, and six rounds stitched up her torso. She vanished in a shower of pixelated lights, and Max rode the recoil to the next person in line. He disappeared in the same manner as the first. Then return fire coming in, and he was forced to drop behind the wall. Calamity was still taking pot-shots at a distant sniper. Max glanced behind him to see Wulfe watching him with a critical eye. Yeah, he knew taking out the sniper should have been his responsibility with the Scar. Not that he had a scope to do that.


    Max hit the magazine release and fished a fresh one from his chest pocket. He shoved it home, then used his thumb to press the bolt release. Max rose to his knees. Bullets tore chunks from the wall as the three remaining enemies fired on him. Settling the weapon on the wall, he fired at the two enemies in the open. At this range, it was almost impossible to miss, and the two men vanished in a flurry of sparkles. Max shifted his aim toward a third man who was running for cover, and his bullets tore at the pile of rubble.


    The weapon locked back again, and Max tisked in annoyance. He let go of the Scar and grabbed the Glock from its holster. He settled his forearms against the wall as the last man poked his head out. Max squeezed the trigger carefully, and gray gore decorated the building''s wall.


    "I got him!" Cal shouted a few seconds later. She jumped up and threw a middle finger at the distant enemy sniper. The sound of battle stuttered to a stop as the simulation froze. Dust hung in the air like a dirty snow globe. Max holstered the Glock, then stood, and reloaded the Scar.


    "Not bad, but you should have switched targets. Cal has the larger magazine, so she might have wiped out the whole group in one go. Max is a much better shot, however, you should know better than to dump your mag like that." Wulfe admonished tossing a magazine toward Calamity. She caught it with one hand and reloaded. "Still, pretty good work," Wulfe added and tapped the console. Max wasn¡¯t bothered by the chastisement. He should have fired in short bursts, but it had been more fun to hold the trigger down. Besides, he¡¯d wanted to see how hard Friday¡¯s recoil felt.


    "Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it." Calamity said stopping by the vehicle. She pulled open a box of cartridges and reloaded the empty mags on the ground.


    "Glad to help."


    "Another round, maybe with all three of us?" Max asked coming over to their makeshift bench. He took an empty magazine from Calamity and started loading it.


    "I''d love to, but I promised Diego I''d visit him today."


    "Give him my number," he said and quickly scrawled it on a discarded box of ammo. Wulfe took it with a wicked smile.


    "That''ll freak him out. A ghost calling from the grave."


    "Ha! You know¡­ now that I think about, maybe you should invite him to play Gun Meister. I mean, once he gets out of the hospital."


    "I dunno," Wulfe mused aloud. She looked skeptical of the idea. "Diego took a blow when he lost his leg, and Gun Meister might not be the best outlet."


    "Regardless, I''d love to hear from him."


    Wulfe pocketed the cardboard, then threw him a sloppy salute as she back toward the door. Max watched her go as the flower of an idea began to form in his mind. With the three of them in Gun Meister, they''d form the backbone of an elite squad. Max just needed two more souls to fill out a five-man team. Heck, If they trained Cal enough to pull her weight, then entering the tournament wasn''t out of the question.


    Calamity leaned over and snatched the mag out of his hands. Then hastily stuffed everything into an empty shopping bag.


    "Hey girl, hold up!" Max called jogging after her.


    "What?" Cal asked with a voice bordering on hurt. Max sighed. Was she really going to hold that one night stand against him?


    "Look, let''s start over. I''m Max and I recently became a digital ghost. It''s nice to meet you." He said, holding out his hand. She stared down it for a good long while, then finally, switched the shopping bag to her other hand, and they shook.


    "You can call me, Calamity." She said taking a step back.


    "We''re both Silver, so how about we run a competition match together and kill some people?"

 Comp Match

    Max glanced over at the only other male in the group. Aside from the dirty blond hair and orange shooting glasses, the guy was almost nondescript ¡ª twenty-five to thirty, a short goatee covering a weak chin, and a heavy bulletproof vest. The neon green painted Saiga-12 shotgun in his hands stood out more than he did. Radioactive stickers plastered the weapon''s frame.


    Calamity knelt with two other women next to a pallet of concrete bags. She held the G36 with a bit more confidence since the training session. At least, she''d learned to keep her finger out of the trigger well. The blond woman next to her was playing with the selector switch on the Scar Light. A lit cigarette smoldered between her pert lips, and wafts of smoke drifted upward. Max glanced at the assault weapon she treated like a cheap guitar. It was the same tan/bronze color as his own but used the smaller 5.56 caliber rounds. A laser device was mounted on the top rail just ahead of an EOTech holographic sight. The woman wore no armor, so she must have prioritized weapon mods.


    The third woman was six feet tall and wore a prep school uniform under a light recon vest. A blue plaited skirt matched a thin buttoned shirt. Black hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she held a p90 loosely in one hand. The other was scratching her nose as she scanned the warehouse floor. Max leaned out around the pallet and looked around himself. Darkness filled the space, except rain and age, had eaten holes in the roof, so swaths of the warehouse illuminated with yellow moonlight. Racks of construction supply were slowly falling over under the weight of time. Ten aisles ran the length of the warehouse¡ªeach large enough for a forklift to do donuts. The whole building was a single enormous rectangle, and in the middle, a large black walnut tree was slowly reaching skyward.


    "Don''t light another cigarette," Max growled, and the blond woman froze with a fresh cig in her mouth.


    "You ain''t my mommy, so bite me," she replied, pulling a set of matches from her pocket.


    "It gives away your position in the dark," the second man replied. She looked between Max and the other man, then struck a match, and raised the flame to her cigarette.


    "Leave her be," the p90 girl said saddling a little closer to her friend.


    "If you two are so badass, how about you push forward. We''ll flank to the left." Max said through clenched teeth.


    "We all stick together," the blond said aggressively.


    "Smoke if you want, but I''ll slap that shit from your mouth if you follow us," Max said duck walking to the next storage aisle. Calamity gave the blond a ''what are you doing'' look then followed after.


    He crossed two more lanes before ducking down an aisle labeled Grounds Keeping. They stopped about twenty meters from a patch of moonlight stretching across the concrete. Shovels and digging equipment littered the ground from a collapsed rack.


    "Why don''t I climb atop one?" Calamity suggested.


    "The racks aren''t continuous, and you''d probably get stuck up there," Max said and glanced pouting face. The industrial metal was good steel, but rain and weather had ravaged them for countless years. Numerous aisles were a maze of collapsed shelves and damaged merchandise.


    "Not saying you can''t do it, but it''ll be impossible to get back down once the teams closed the distance. Is it worth the risk?" He asked as the shotgun guy worked his way forward.


    "Might give her a height advantage," the other man said, and Max shrugged. Several aisles to their right, the girl¡ªvisible by the glowing cherry¡ªinched forward. If he could see it three stacks away, the enemy would too.


    Shotgun guy continued forward at a low crouch, then went prone a dozen paces from the moonlight. Max looked up through the torn roof at a harvest moon filling the sky. For a full minute, the three lay on the concrete with their weapons pointed down range. Finally, the man stood and started to back, but Max grabbed his vest collar.


    "It''s better to go around, we''ll be exposed," the man whispered back.


    "Wait until the shooting starts, then run forward. The enemy will be too distracted to switch targets. Let''s rush past the tree and take up defensive positions."


    "I agree," Calamity said, switching her rifle to full auto. She raised to her knees, and they waited.


    "Should I go the way left?"


    "If we had night vision," Max said reached out a hand to touch both players. It was dark enough they were dark blobs against the black. He wanted to keep together because Max didn''t entirely trust Calamity not to shoot him in the back when things went down. Max glanced over to where Cherry blond had been, but she''d finally put the cigarette out. They better not try anything cute, because if anyone came up behind them, he''d shoot first and apologize never.


    They continued to wait in the dark until an air siren went off overhead. At roughly the same time, a red energy barrier appeared at either end of the warehouse. Max raised a hand to his ear and cupped it. There was sound like a boot scuffing concrete, but it was too distant to make out direction. Ahead of them was a patch of moonlight, then more darkness until the aisle reached the middle of the warehouse. The tree and it''s thick branches shaded the ground below it, so a halo of illumination circled the center.


    Finally, gunfire erupted off to their right. Both the p90 and Scar-L fired down the aisle in a wild spray of bullets. The flashes from both were like a gang of paparazzi taking pictures. The two Meisters were silhouetted a dozen feet behind and to their right. A second or two passed before several weapons spit lead back. Max crept forward the grabbed an armored shoulder.


    "Go, we''ll be right behind you," Max said, nudging him forward.


    They stood and sprinted into the moonlight. Nothing shot, not until they''d plunged back into the darkness on the other side. Max leaped over jumbles of fallen goods before dropping to the ground as bullets tore down the aisle. Max heard more than saw a body hitting the ground just ahead of him. Rounds zipped past his head as Calamity fired back, and he crawled forward. He''d hoped to reach the center first, but at least one person beat them here. Max kept his ass low and shuffled forward across the concrete. The prone figure of shotgun guy appeared out of the darkness. Bullets tore apart his hip and dismembered one of his legs. Max set the Scar against the corpse and tucked his shoulder into the buttstock. Then looked through the small red dot, and waited for the enemy to fire again.


    Off to their right, the battle continued to rage. He didn''t hold out much hope for the two, but at least they were keeping the enemy busy.


    "You still good, Calamity?" Max asked in a hoarse whisper.


    "Yeah, I think so," Cal replied short of breath. She fumbled with the magazine release, then worked a fresh one into the well. He waited a few seconds for her to finish.


    "You have to drop bolt catch or use the charging handle to load the first round," Max said, and a racking sound soon followed. She didn''t say thank you but began crawling forward until they were both using the corpse as cover. For a while, nothing happened, and the warehouse grew deathly silent. Thirty feet away, the tree stood like a welcoming bastion and wondered if they could reach the thick trunk first. Could he trust her to watch his back as he dashed across the circle of light? Maybe it would be better to send her across first.


    "Do you want to try climbing the shelf?" He asked in a whisper. This close to the center it would offer a good vantage point, but she''d be stuck up there when the wall closed in.


    "What if they shoot at me?" She asked nervously and turned to look into her eyes. They were close enough he could see the fear in them. This match was her first firefight involving real weapons.


    "I''ll cover," he said injecting as much confidence as he could. If anything, Calamity would reveal the enemy location when they started shooting. She nodded to herself more than anything, then slowly rose to a crouch. Nothing happened, and she grabbed the closest rack. The woman hauled herself to the second shelf, then used a pallet of mulch to climb one higher.


    Max focused on the red dot, ready to fire, but Calamity reached the final shelf without incident. It was empty except layers of dust and bird droppings, so she rolled to her knees, breathing heavily. With her weapon ahead of her, she moved slowly forward.


    Maybe he could make the enemy reveal their location. He hoped they wouldn''t be able to tell a pistol shot from a rifle. Max drew the Glock from its holster, and roughly aimed down the aisle. Without looking, he squeezed off seven rapid shots. The bullets pinged off metal shelves and chipped concrete, but better still, someone laying on the ground fired back. He ducked his head as rounds thumped into the corpse and its heavy armor.


    He dropped the Glock and aimed at a muzzle flash about sixty meters ahead of him. Max focused his attention on the red dot, settling it over the spot, and squeezed the trigger twice. The Scar bucked against his shoulder in a satisfying push. He waited for the enemy to start shooting again.


    Calamity wasn''t in the light, but there was sufficient brightness to see her dark shape against the sky. He felt for the dropped Glock in the darkness, discovered it had rolled to the concrete, then reholstered the pistol. Max gathered himself, then sprinted forward into the light. From another aisle, a weapon fired at him.


    A bullet slammed into his chest, and he dropped to the ground under the tree. Above him, Calamity rose up on her knees and quickly fired down on his attack. The bullets stopped chewing the air around him, and he supposed that had been worth the risk. Absently he fingered the spot where above his left lung. The sharp pain had been momentary, and now only a subtle throb remained. Laying on his back, he scooted closer to the trunk until he was entirely in darkness. Only about four minutes were left, and the circle was only about forty meters away. It wouldn''t be long until the effect caught Calamity. He set the Scar down and withdrew Violet.


    "Cal stay where you''re at," he shouted. There was no point in keeping quiet, so he added. "If either of you badass girls are alive, you have five seconds to run over here."


    There was movement, but not from behind them, so Max fired the Glock at the noise. He was rewarded with the sound of bullets hitting flesh before weapon locked back, and he sank back into cover. No return fire came, so the enemy was either learning or running low on ammo. Max thumbed the mag release, and the empty plopped onto the ground. He pawed at his waist until he located a new magazine. It clicked home. Max could swear Violet groaned into his ear as he racked the slide.


    There was at least one enemy left, and he was hoping he could get them to reveal their position. This time he held the pistol out as far away from the tree as possible. He fired once and waited.


    Nothing followed several seconds of silence, and Max reholstered the Glock in annoyance. Two minutes passed in silence and the circle crawled to within feet of Calamity. Max saw the woman stand suddenly, and jump from the fourth shelf. A sickening crunch followed as she hit the ground, and sprawled across the concrete. Her weapon skidded across the ground and vanished in a flash of light. Cal looked like a broken toy as she crawled toward him. One leather-clad leg stuck out at an impossible angle, and she was only using her right arm to pull herself forward.


    Whoever was left was going to have to come out into the open, and it was going to happen soon. Max reached for Friday and switched her to full auto. He held the weapon, feeling the metal finish with his thumb.


    Several bullets cut into Cal from behind, and Max swung behind the tree. More rounds slammed into the trunk roughly where he''d been laying. A figure stepped into the moonlight with his rifle raised. He dropped the mag, which Max thought a mistake. The guy should have reloaded while under cover of darkness. Max set the Scar against the tree and fired a burst while the enemy hunted for a new mag. The heavy bullets staggered him, and he fell backward out of the light.


    That''s when someone attacked him from behind. The first bullet struck Max in the back, and he dropped the Scar in surprise. The next could of rounds hit the tree. He turned in shock and drew the Glock again.


    A woman ran towards him with a little SMG in her hands. The last of the bullets skipped over Max''s head as she fought to control the recoil on the move. Self-preservation kept him on the move, and he ducked back around the tree. The woman dropped her TMP as it ran dry, and she reached for a black semi-automatic.


    She kicked at his weapon as he fired. It wasn''t painful, but he lost control of his fingers. His Glock tumbled away under the tree''s bough. Her pistol came up, and he grabbed her wrist. The gun fired twice cracking concrete as he brought her elbow down on his knee. The bone broke, and her sidearm fell from a limp hand.


    "Damn it," she cursed and backed away. Max drew the Karambit with numb fingers. The woman had pretty green eyes, and they looked wildly about for her weapon. Then she lunged for something in the darkness. The woman rolled over and fired into his chest armor. The pain spiked momentarily, but he drove the knife into her throat. Blood poured out across the ground as her weapon went over again. The second bullet struck his stomach like an iron fist gut-checking him, and he yanked the blade sideways.


    Emerald rolled, and the pistol clattered to the ground. Max staggered and fell back against the tree trunk. He looked up through the foliage at the full moon above and marveled at how pretty the night was. Darkness closed in, and two words floated in the void.


    [Match Complete]


    A door opened before Max, and he stepped into the private lounge. All ten players were together, and several had their hands thrown up. A woman with piercing green eyes punched his arm.


    "Man you are so lucky, you had so much endurance," she said, stomping toward the elevator.


    "I was a sliver from death there at the end," Max admitted joining the others.


    He settled the Scar against his shoulder and stepped into the lift next Calamity. The woman straightened her jacket and matched his stance with her G36. Someone hit the ground floor button. As it ascended, he turned to the woman.


    "Ready for another?"


    "I have to get some work on the novel done," she said, running a hand through her black hair.


    "Too bad, you did well."


    "I think you''re just saying that to be nice," she replied, stepping off the elevator. Max followed her through the lobby and outside. Finally, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She stopped to look back.


    "It''ll take a while, but I hope we can be friends," he said holding out a hand.


    "Just don''t think that''s going to happen again."


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "No," he said with a chuckle. "Romance novels are full of sexual tension, and that sells books, but a real combat team has to trust each other. The drama gets in the way."


    "Really? You never did anything with her?"


    "Hell no. We don''t play those games in the Navy. You should have seen Wulfe crush the few men that tried to hit on her. She made a seal cry." He admitted, and he took out his new smartphone.


    "I can believe it," Calamity said with a smile.


    "Do you have a number?"


    "My real one?" She asked in surprise.


    "Yeah, this thing can call outside, so maybe we can play again tomorrow."


    "Sure," she said slowly, then typed in her email address and phone number.


    "Have a good day," He said with a wave. The woman walked through the parking lot and out onto the street. He checked his phone and saw it was only two in the afternoon. The time had gone by surprisingly fast, and the girls would have to be at work soon.


    "I suppose that means I''m done for today as well," Max said, and the Glock in his holster began to glow. Violet appeared in a flash of yellow light. She crossed her arms over her chest.


    "You have time to run another match," she said, and he shrugged.


    "Friday mentioned Derek would never clean you both, so I assume Meisters are expected too," he said, and the Scar glowed yellow next. The bronze hair women appeared with a flush to her face. She linked arms with Violet before turning to Max.


    "We have two hours, which should give us time to freshen up. Let''s head back to the penthouse." She said and gave Violet a peck on the cheek. The woman relented and wrapped an arm around Friday. They turned away still hugging, so Max was forced to follow them to the used car.


    "How''d you like being used again?" He asked, climbing into the back seat. Friday closed her eyes and placed the back of a hand against her forehead.


    "I''d almost forgotten what it feels like," Friday admitted and bit her lip.


    "So it does feel good?"


    "Good?" She asked in a breathy rush and laughed self consciously as Violet started the car. "It''s more than just good. It''s like being complete or having your purpose fulfilled. It''s¡ª"


    "Better than sex," Violet interjected and Friday blushed, but didn''t contradict her lover. The car turned onto the drive and the two held hands across the divider. Max smirked leaning back in the seat. He had promised not to get in the way of their relationship, so they were going to flirt openly. Five minutes later, they pulled into the complex.


    They headed upstairs, and Friday unlocked the apartment door. She almost danced to a small side cabinet in the living room. Inside was a yellow tackle box, which she brought to the coffee table. Max plopped down on the leather couch and set the spare ammo down. Friday knelt on the sofa next to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.


    "Thank you," she said, kissing his cheek again. Violet sank onto the couch on his left side.


    "I''m glad you stayed," Violet added.


    "Who first?" He asked and Friday eagerly transformed.


    The Scar appeared in his lap, and he unloaded the weapon. He double checked the chamber was empty, then pushed out the takedown pin. The trigger module came away in his hand, and he set it down on the coffee table. Then he removed the buttstock and pulled the carrier group free. That was it; the Scar was surprisingly easy to field strip. Max popped the yellow tackle box open. The smell of gun solvent and Hopps #9 hit him in the face. Nostalgia quickly followed up with a second punch to the gut.


    Inside the top rack were wire brushes of every size, bore snakes, and a medley of cotton patches. Underneath he found the can of solvent and an old oil rag. Max spread the cloth out, and liberally coated the Scar. The trigger module was already clean. Still, he used a handful of patches to clean off the old oil. The factory trigger had not impressed him, and he added it to a list of mods he wanted.


    The part that needed cleaning was the barrel and the front of the carrier group. He used the plastic nozzle to squirt solvent down inside, then ran the bore snake down its length. Friday groaned in pleasure as the wire bristles dragged down her breach. A small gush of copper fouling spilled onto the rag. He paused with the bore snake, ready to go in again. Now he understood why the girls had started a relationship. Each time the snake went in she moaned loudly in his ear.


    "Once more please, once more, I still feel dirty," Friday groaned, and he glanced at Violet. She sat next to him patiently waiting for her turn. Max obliged, and she let out a loud whimpering moan as the snake worked down her barrel. Finally, he pushed several wet patches through it until they came out clean. He didn''t bother disassembling the carrier group, not after a hundred rounds. Max squirted the bolt face with solvent and scrubbed it with a well-used wire brush. Then he wiped her down and reassembled the weapon.


    Friday appeared lay across his and Violet''s lap breathing heavily. Her whole body looked flushed.


    "He missed your gas piston and regulator," Violet quipped, and Friday reached up putting her hand on the woman''s cheek.


    "Next time," he said holding out his hand. Violet glowed briefly and a Glock appeared in his palm. Friday sat up to give him room and leaned against his side. He popped the mag and racked the weapon. Then turned the locking pin, and squeezed the trigger, so the slide came free. Max pulled the recoil spring free, then the barrel and squirted everything down with solvent.


    Friday leaned in and whispered, "She loves having her trigger safety scrubbed." Max glanced at her. That was a part he would never have touched on his own. It was just a spring, and a bit of plastic.


    "How about you and I double team Violet again?" He asked, and a sharp intake of breath sounded in his mind. Max handed the lower receiver to Friday and reached for the barrel. The woman wasted no time in grabbing a teenie tiny wire brush. She slowly and methodically went to work on the weapon''s trigger, and a wailing moan filled his ears.


    He pulled a 9mm bore snake through her barrel.


    "Here I thought Violet liked anal, but wow. She could blow eardrums with that voice." Max said on his third repetition.


    "Bite me," Violet groaned.


    Max picked up the wire brush to clean her slid groves. At the same time, Friday used a rag to clean out her mag thoroughly. Violet''s cursing quickly dissolved into a fit of panting cries.


    "What if we make her beg us to stop?" Max asked in a conspiratorial whisper. "She seemed annoyed that I missed your gas regular. We could keep at this until she''s mint condition again."


    "I think she''d like that, but she''d never lower herself to begging. Besides, I have to be to work in forty minutes."


    "That''s too bad," Max wiped off the slide, then added a few drops to oil. Friday handed him the lower receiver, and he reassembled the pistol. Violet appeared in an even more agitated state, and purple hair stuck out wildly like she''d just had a night of great sex. The woman sprawled limply across Max''s lap, while her head lay on Friday''s. The woman stroked Violet''s cheek for a short while before turning to Max


    "I need to shower still. Do you mind?" Friday asked pensively. He would have liked to join, but the woman had a complex about being seen naked. Max reached for the remote and turned the television on while Friday disappeared through the bedroom door. He heard the distant shower turn on, and turned up the volume.


    Max flipped channels until he came across an official GMO broadcast. Two people sat behind a glass table with the Gun Meister logo on the surface. A ticker at the bottom of the screen displayed how many matches were currently running. Behind the desk, a man in a suit shuffled papers. The woman next to him wore a lavender dress with a pair of pistol bullet earrings.


    "Well, Dianna! The New Year''s tourney is only two months away." The man said, turning to look at the other caster.


    "I know! It''s so exciting!" Dianna replied in a girlish squeal. Max dropped the remote and settled back against the couch.


    "What are your predictions for this year?"


    "Girls, inc won the last tournament, and all their showings have been strong. Of course, I''m root for them." The female said, and they both laughed.


    "It''s hard to disagree with their record, but I can think of several contenders. Not-Safe-For-Work has shown some real promise for such a young clan."


    "A lot of squads are signing up for that five million dollar prize," Dianna agreed, and Max rubbed his chin.


    That was a nice chunk of change. Max wondered if he could put together a team. Calamity wasn''t as terrible as he feared, and Wulfe was one the best seals he''d worked with. If they could get Diego to join that was most of the squad already. Violet stirred slowly before pulling herself up. She stumbled toward the bedroom, then caught herself on the door jam.


    "What do you say we watch a replay of the last ten matches," Dianna said to her co-host. "There were some great plays in the final rounds." Both man and woman pointed their fingers at the camera. The rotating Gun Meister logo flew forward and exploded like a grenade.


    Max was impressed by what followed. The players might not have been trained military, but there was real skill at the top levels. The first battle took place on a wheat farm, and someone with a Barret made a 900-yard headshot. The shot sent the enemy team crawling through the wheat at a snail''s pace. He sat for a few minutes watching the combat play out, and thankfully, they''d edited out the boring parts. Friday came out of the bedroom in a pink summer dress and a pair of flats. Rusty finally made his appearance as well, by trotting after the woman.


    "I''m so sorry. I was excited about today. I forgot to make you breakfast." She said pitifully, and the dog huffed angrily. The woman turned the burner on and fetched large skillet. Rusty lay on the kitchen tiles like he was starving to death. He weakly whimpered, and Friday paused with a ground beef patty in her hand. The retriever kicked his pawed feet a little. She sighed, put the patty back and withdrew a full sized steak.


    "Is this better?" she asked and the dog looked away, ignoring her.


    "Please, Rusty, I''m sorry!" She said and took out a bacon wrapped Tur'' duck'' din. Now the retriever sat up with interest. It sizzled as soon as she set the monstrosity in the pan, and the apartment filled with the scent of cooking meat. Max returned his attention to the television but was thinking about that prize money.


    "How do you make a clan?"


    "You just need five players and a clan name to register," Friday said, flipping the Tur''Duck'' Din over. Rusty''s lethargy was a thing of the past, and he sat up with tail wagging.


    "I see," he mused. He supposed the real problem would be convincing them to train seriously. His other option was to compete for a spot in an existing clan. Friday carried the cooked meal over to Rusty''s bowl and dropped the meal in juices and all.


    "You''re going to burn your tongue if you don''t let it rest," She admonished, but Rusty ignored her.


    "Do you want anything before I go?" Friday asked, and he turned toward the kitchen. He glanced at the clock and saw it almost four.


    "No, but thank you," Max replied and the woman turned the burner off and cleaned out the pan. She bent over the sink scrubbing the bacon grease out. He wanted to compliment her, but her body image was in the gutter. Derek had been a subtle and sadistic bastard. It was too bad he was out of reach. Max stood and moved past Rusty, who was licking the bowl clean.


    "I changed my mind," he said and the woman looked at him questioningly. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and he could make out a white bra under the dress.


    "Can I have your panties?"


    "What?!"


    "Your panties, I''d want them."


    "No, nooo¡­ I can''t possibly," she said in rush. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink that almost matched the dress. The woman backed up until she was virtually climbing the kitchen counter. Max wished he had puppy dog eyes, but he settled for putting a hand on her hip.


    "It''s just, I keep thinking about last night, and that insatiable vixen," he said squeezing her plump waist. "There''s something beautiful and wanton hiding behind that innocence."


    Friday coughed, "I can''t, I¡­ have to get going¡ª"


    She stopped talking as Max knelt. Then her breath hitched in as he reached under her dress. The skin was hot to the touch as he felt his way up her legs. Finally, his fingers closed over a cotton slip.


    "I can''t?" he asked, tugging lightly, but they didn''t come away. Friday let out a long shaky moan but pushed away from the counter. The white panties slid down her thighs and into sight. She stepped out of them and sagged back against the kitchen counter.


    "I''m going to keep these," he said, standing. There was a damp spot along the crotch as he rubbed his finger across the fabric.


    "Come on, Rusty, we have to go," she said, realizing what time it was. The keys were in her hand, and the penthouse door open.


    The two were almost to the elevator when Max called out, "Have a good time at work."


    Max twirled the panties around his finger with a smile on his face. Hopefully, little things like that would boost her confidence, but in the meantime, he would enjoy her blushing face. He pushed the undies into his pocket, then wandered back toward the sound of a shower running. The bathroom door was open and steam slowly rolled across the carpet. A fuzzy silhouette stood behind the fogged glass.


    "I seem to recall you didn''t have to work until six."


    "So," Violet said, turning in the shower and scrubbed at her pits.


    "Maybe I could wash your back,"


    "For two hours?" She asked dryly.


    "There are lots of places I could scrub," he said suggestively. Max leaned against the bathroom door and waited while she considered the offer. They''d been getting along much better, but a no would tell him everything he needed about their relationship. She could make this a contract of convenience. No one said they had to like each other, as much as he wanted that. Max was just as stubborn in his own ways, and he''d be damned before he apologized.


    The frosted door opened, and steam spilled out. Instead of saying anything, a hand holding a soapy sponge appeared. Max was touched. Everything about Violet''s previous actions said she''d refuse him, and this move was unexpected. Maybe, just maybe, they''d find something in common. Max pulled his shoes, pants, and shirt off in a flurry. Then took the offer sponge as he stepped into the shower.


    "The back first, then we can discuss on places to scratch," she said, turning away from him. She didn''t see him smile as he applied the sponge to her backside.

 Diego

    The daycare walls were covered in crayon and finger-painted art of children past. Now the hall stood vacant, silent as a grave, and a ruin of the age. The door open, and a man-shaped shadow crossed over a family of red stick figures holding hands. The lean Meister was male with hair dyed forest green. Gray fabric dangled from his vest and pants in strips, and he aimed the Remington 700 sniper rifle¡ªalso covered in gray cloth¡ªdown the darkened hallway. A second man holding a chrome plated Barret .50 caliber rifle came through the door next. This one wore light recon armor over green camouflage and a Halloween facemask. Behind them, the red wall drew in like the angry fingers of god.


    The two men looked at one another, and the first jerked his head toward the hallway in a ''you-go-first,'' gesture. The second shook his head adamantly and lifted his Barret for display. ''My gun is bigger,'' his eyes said. For almost ten seconds they continued the silently argue over who would take point. Finger gesture, shake of the head, nose point, eye glare; it all happened as the evening sunlight silhouetted the two players. A tentative agreement reached, they crept forward together into the gloom.


    All was silent save the two sets of boots shuffling across the decades-old maroon carpet. Long rifles swept the hallway ahead of them as they crept forward. The first room was an office, which was locked when they tried the handle. The next two doors were a bathroom and supply closet. The air in both was pungent with mold and chemical cleansers. They worked their way forward until something cried out, both froze as a nightmarish clown under foot laughed again. The sound shrieked and echoed down the hallway.


    The playroom door some twenty feet down flew open, and someone holding a compact SMG appeared. The small Meister fell sideways into the hallway spraying his weapon on full auto. Both snipers reacted by snapping their rifles up and firing. The fifty caliber bullet flew past the man''s head and punched a finger sized hole in the back of the building.  The other sniper only managed to hit a stuffed toy, which exploded in a shower of stuffing. 9mm bullets struck the guile suited man first. He staggered backward against the dozen pistol rounds slamming into his chest and stomach. As he fell, the shots tracked onto the second sniper as he worked the bolt on his weapon.


    [Match Complete]


    "We almost had that!" Calamity snarled smashing a clenched fist on the couch arm. It seemed padded just for that purpose. The screens slowly faded out as two Meister''s came into the lobby. "You have pistols for a reason," she spat to the two men.


    "Bite me," the first sniper said shoving past them.


    "No, hell no!" Cal hissed, shaking her fist at them. "You don''t get to say that and bring a sniper rifle to a CQB fight." Everyone glared at them, but Max forced himself to shrug. It wasn''t worth getting angry over.


    "You can''t win them all," Max sighed, stepping toward the elevator. The door opened, and everyone piled inside.


    "There was just one enemy left! They could have sent one person forward." She said, and the two rifle-toting Meister''s stiffened. That was precisely what they''d been arguing about, but neither had been willing to sacrifice themselves. One of the other Meister''s chimed in finally. The man had been knocked out early from an unlucky headshot.


    "They could have done anything. Anything, but that and we would have won."


    The elevator doors opened again on a packed competition floor. Max stepped away from the others, and the two snipers stormed off on their own. They quickly vanished among the heavily armed players. It was midmorning, not-quite-noon, but everyone was logging in to run matches.


    "That just shows how important teamwork is," he said as Calamity followed him off to one side. "We got super unlucky with those random players," Max added, pushing into the bar. Cal stomped her feet as she followed him to a table. They slid in, and Max pulled the Glock from his holster. He popped the mag and started loading bullets while Cal ordered drinks.


    "Aren''t you mad?" Cal asked, pulling her own pistol out.


    "Nah," Max said, sliding a full magazine into his Glock. It clicked home, and he racked the slide. "99% of the people that play this game are civilian. They aren''t trained to fight, so expecting them to be professionals right off the mark is unrealistic."


    "I wish Wulfe was here," Calamity grumbled.


    "You and me both, but she''s visiting Diego today. She''ll probably be back tomorrow."


    "Can we go again?" She asked, and Max shook his head.


    "We could do casual matches for practice, but we ran two comps already. Besides, my girls have to work in an hour, so why don''t we break for today."


    "It''s just; I thought we''d do better."


    "I learned a valuable lesson."


    "Oh?"


    "This is a game, and I should have remembered that. I''d never expect someone to jump through an inferno for a kill. The guy that killed me had balls. I''ll give him that." The beers came, and he quickly drained his glass.


    "There''s always tomorrow," he said, setting the empty down. Cal only drank half before standing.


    "I suppose I need to get some work done, so I''m going to head back to the hotel to clean Yohan and Raphael. It''s not far if you want to join me."


    "I won''t have time to clean the girls, so they''ll both smell like gun powder all evening. I''ll relax for a few minutes before going over to Quinn''s." Max said with a smile. Calamity seemed crestfallen, and Max pretended not to notice. Now that she was on the team, the woman was untouchable in his eyes. He raised a hand in mock salute.


    "Good work, soldier," he said, and she rolled her bright blue eyes. Calamity turned away and quickly disappeared through the bar''s glass door. Max lowered his hand, then grabbed the leftover beer, and drained it. Technically, it was Friday that needed to be at work soon. He ordered another beer and spent the time reloading his rifle mags.


    Both weapons began to glow at roughly the same time. Violet appeared in the seat opposite while Friday¡ªface smudged¡ªsat next to him. Friday rubbed a black spot off her nose, and Violet reached into a small purse. She pulled out a wetnap and offered it over. The battle rifle took it gratefully and cleaned her face off.


    "Are you done," Violet asked. Max pushed the last spare magazine into his vest''s pocket.


    "I think so," he said, returning the spare ammo into the daypack. The thousand rounds he''d bought were almost gone, and he''d have to get more soon.


    No, he thought. Better to hand over his rent first before worrying about ammo. He could always resort to casual matches. His stats weren''t tracked anyway, so it was an easy way to earn credits.


    Max said, pushing from the booth and stood. Both women held hands and followed him from the bar. Rusty waited in the car with a bone in his mouth and a wag to his tail. He licked Friday in greeting, and the woman laughed.


    "You are such a good boy!" She said, scratching behind his ears. "Yes, you are!"


    Before they left, Max tossed his gun belt, vest, and armor in the trunk. Friday sank in the passenger seat and used the visor''s mirror to fuss with her hair. Max slid into the back seat with Rusty.  The dog woofed impatiently and put his head on Max''s lap.


    "You get off at 8, right?"


    "Yes, Max?" Friday asked, turning in her seat.


    "What are you doing afterward?"


    "I love Quinn. He''s a darling, but I''m not a party girl. I prefer to stay at home and enjoy a quiet evening."


    "How about I clean you tonight, then we can watch some TV until Violet gets home. I am interested in seeing how your evenings usually play out." He said, and the two women looked at one another like a married couple. A conversation took place silently, and Max marveled at how they could do that. It was easy to forget they weren''t human. Violet finally reached over and gripped Friday''s leg through her dress. She kept her hand there on Friday''s thigh, possessively. The woman blushed and went back to work on her makeup self-consciously. Max smiled to himself as long fingers continued to kneed flesh like a cat marking its property.


    Quinn''s wasn''t far, and they arrived early for Friday shift. Max opened the blacked-out door, and techno erotica spilled out like a physical force. He stepped in after the girls, and the door struggled to close against the buffeting noise. It was too loud to speak, so Friday kissed his cheek before threading her way through the crowd. He turned to examine the bar. The dance floor was packed with gyrating bodies despite being before noon. His first time had been awkward like he was an outsider peering in through the window. Max may not have been gay, but he merged with the candy and rainbow atmosphere. Quinn was frantically manning the bar.


    To his surprise, Violet tapped his shoulder and gestured towards the dance floor. The offer was so unexpected that he nodded in reflex. She took his hand, leading him onto the raised platform. A vast majority of the weapons in Gun Meister were female, so women dominated the space; hugging, bobbing, and grinding together. Violet pulled him toward the center, then pressed herself to his muscled body. She draped her long arms around his neck as her body swayed to the music. Today she wore a short leather skirt with fishnets, a dark corset, and a hungry expression on her face. The woman stared up at him with those voracious silver eyes.


    More than one pair settled on him as Violet ground her crotch against his. He was forced to grab her hips to keep up with her rhythm. Half a dozen women stared at them as they danced, and soon they were pulled into a gaggle of panting girls. He was a Meister, one with a free slot. The scent of his open contract was like an aphrodisiac to those around him. Violet let go of his neck and pushed her hands into his back pockets. She kept them together as more bodies closed in. Hips and chests pressed against Max in a growing swarm of female attention.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    What had they said? Romance was important, but a Meister was a Meister. Hands snaked up his shirt, into his pockets, and down his pants. All the while, Violet ground her body into his like she was trying to merge with him. He got the impression she wasn''t just possessive about Friday as strong fingers kneaded his ass.


    An hour later, Max stumbled off the dance floor with the mother-of-all hard on''s. Violet followed as he made his way to the private area for a little peace and quiet. Like the rest of the club, it was full of warm bodies, but they managed a free spot.


    Max tried to fish his smartphone out, but his pockets were crammed full. A rainbow-colored thong came out first.  He eyed it for a moment before tossing it on the table. More slips of paper fell out as he dug deeper. Then finally, the smartphone popped out in a shower of numbers. Violet smirked as she picked up the panties and unfolded them. On the crotch, a phone number was written in glitter lipstick.


    Thanks to the music, he hadn''t heard the phone ringing. There were several missed calls from Wulfe. Thankfully, it had only been a few minutes and quickly sent a text.


    Max - [Hey, I''m at Quinn''s]


    Wulfe - [Is Cal there?]


    Max - [No. She''s off punching keys]


    Wulfe - [brt]


    Violet leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Shall I keep these for you?" She was twirling the thong around her finger.


    "It''s tempting, but I already know what weapon I want next."


    "You should try the Armory. The sooner you fill that slot, the better." She said, dropping the undies to the table.


    "That''s where we first met?"


    "Yes, uncontracted weapons stay for free. You can search for whatever make/model you want. No guarantee, though.


    "Good to know," he said, picking up the panties. He had no idea who they belonged too, but he figured ''what the hell,'' and stuffed them back into his pocket. Maybe he''d call them when had a free slot again.


    "I see Quinn is waving at me," Violet said, and Max turned in his seat. The little man was jumping up and down behind the bar. "I think Quinn wants me to clock in early."


    "Go ahead. I have to meet with Wulfe anyway."


    "You''ll be fine by yourself?" She asked, and he laughed.


    "You, worried about me?"


    She leaned in close and gripped his thigh. His erection hadn''t wanned in the slightest, and Max grunted as she kneaded the muscle. "You might do something¡­ typically male."


    "Relax, I''ll save it for tonight," Max said, pushing her hand away. She eyed him, then flicked his nose as she turned away. He watched her ass walk away and had to admit she had a point. Max did his best to forget how horny he was. A feat he was only partially successful at.


    The door the bar opened, letting in the midday sun. A tall supermodel briefly blocked the intrusive light. She scanned the bar, spied Max as one of the few men, and approached. Behind her, a Meister followed in her wake. Today was full of surprises. Diego looked almost exactly like he did in real life. Short with dark hair and eyes like cut obsidian. The man must have just stepped out of character creation because he was wearing an all gray uniform. They b-lined in his direction and stopped a few feet away.


    "Where''s your weapon, Wulfe?" He asked, and the woman lifted her shirt. A concealed holster and the full-sized pistol were half-hidden into her pants


    "I never go anywhere unarmed," she said with a smile. Diego wore a chagrined expression.


    "I couldn''t believe my ears when Wulfe said where we were going. I figured she was pulling my chain."


    "Why?"


    "I didn''t think you knew."


    "Knew what?"


    Diego glanced over at Wulfe, who was grinning in triumph. Max was confused until he saw the second man bringing up the rear. He stopped next to Diego. The man wore nothing except a black speedo and an innocent, childlike smile. He blended in with the crowd, and Max had assumed the man was another weapon looking for a contract.


    "Wow, I had no idea, but it''s good to see you!" Max said, standing to shake hands. Diego slapped some skin, then pulled a stool over. His weapon, bare chest glistening, sat next to him.


    "Don''t ask, don''t tell¡­" Diego said and pulled a stool out for his new friend.


    "I''m sorry to hear about your leg."


    "Better the leg than dead. Lots better than Carter and Winslow. Kingslan too, but fuck him, he was an asshole."


    "Are you ok¡­ with things?"


    "What did you hear?" Diego asked, and Max kept from glancing at Wulfe. He knew a lot more than he should.


    "That some Westpoint graduate botched the mission," Max replied casually.


    "Botched?!" Diego laughed bitterly. "Man, it was a massacre. We''re not the ones that spill blood, and I''ve never seen anything like it."


    Max glanced at Wulfe again, who had stolen a seat from another table. He wondered if Diego meant the robots, or how high command had thrown them under the bus. Not a topic to dwell on.


    "I have a proposition if you''re interested. The idea struck me last night after Wulfe left."


    "Oh," Diego mused taking another drink.


    "There''s an e-sports tournament in two months. Squads compete for points, and we have three of five members right here."


    "I''m not sure if I can commit to anything right now," Diego said after a few seconds.


    "It''s not like your signing up for four years. We set up a clan, then sign a contract to split the winnings five ways. The new year''s tournament takes place in January." He said, gauging their interest. Diego looked liked he wanted anything to take his mind off the missing leg. Wulfe was unreadable, so he changed tactics. "It''ll be work. At least eight hours a day to get Calamity and our last theoretical member trained up in time. We have a good chance."


    "What do we get for all this effort?" Wulfe asked dryly.


    "First place is five million, second place is fifty thousand, and third through ten get five thousand each," Max said, watching their expressions change. Now he had their attention. Violet showed up then carrying a tray of glasses and two pints. He hadn''t ordered them but was grateful for the interruption.


    "I might know someone who''d help," she admitted, and they both turned in her direction. "I said might," she repeated taking the offered beer.


    "Well?" Max asked, trying to pry it out of her.


    "We met at Quantico, they''re not military, but we exchanged contact info. I won''t say anything else unless they agree to come."


    "Good, that''s settled. I assume Calamity will agree just for her book," he said, and Diego turned to him.


    "You really didn''t know?"


    "That you''re gay? Not even a little. Wulfe did?"


    "I have functioning gaydar," She said, draining her glass.


    "Whatever," Max drolled.


    "Why did you come here?" Diego asked, searching for Max''s face.


    "At first it was to annoy that woman right there," he said gesturing toward Violet making the rounds. She sensed their gaze and turned in their direction. "Now, it''s a habit," he admitted blowing her a kiss. Violet gave him the finger, and he laughed.


    "You already ran two matches today?" Wulfe asked, and he nodded.


    "Calamity and I rolled with some fools who couldn''t find their assholes with both hands. She needs work, especially her communication, but I think she''ll do fine. You two could breeze through the early matches together. The sooner you get silver, the soon we can train together."


    Max took his phone out and glanced at the time. It was just past 2 pm so the competition hall would be packed. That number would only grow as people got off work. It was part of the reason he always went in the morning. When he glanced up, both Seals were looking at each other. Wulfe had that mother hen expression, while Diego looked like a kid staring at a double helix rollercoaster for the first time. Excitement mixed with fear and a dose of anticipation.


    "We could run a casual match together. It won''t help you rank up, but you''ll get a feel for the game."


    "I thought you said both your weapons were working?" Wulfe asked, and he shrugged.


    "I''ll use a knife," he replied, and the woman scoffed. "I did it before, and I usually managed a kill." They looked at him like he was stupid. Max may not have won many matches, but he''d earned some coin cutting players open with a blade.


    "Diego and I will go play two matches. You can¡­" She waved her hand vaguely at the bar.


    "Probably better this way. If we teamed up, you''d have to fight against primary weapons." He said, pushing from the chair. The other two stood, and they shook hands again. "I''ll see you tomorrow. Calamity will be happy to see you."


    There was plenty of daylight left, but he didn''t feel like dancing again. The women around him kept eying Max like fresh meat, and any minute now they''d start approaching. Maybe he''d check out the Armory, which sounded like a better use of his time. He picked his phone from the table, crammed it into his overfilled pockets, and left the bar.


    It was a touch windy, but the sky was bright and cloudless.  There was something electric in the air like a storm was on the horizon.  Cars zipped past in a steady stream toward the competition center.  Max turned in the opposite direction.  From what he could remember the cloning center and Armory weren''t too far from each other.

 Armory

    Everything was different. The crumbling hotel facade was now a five-story monument of marble and precious metal, which explained why it had taken two hours to find. For a full minute, Max stared at the enormous Armory, and wondered how many weapons stayed here. Two golden lions stood guard like silent sentries. He worked the toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. It was a delaying action, and he knew it. The adrenaline-fueled trip through these halls was still fresh in his memory.


    Finally, he shook himself and marched up the flight of steps to the double doors. They opened silently at his approach, revealing a lobby covered in a thick red carpet. He recognized the wallpaper¡ªno longer cracked and peeling¡ªfirst, then the furniture, and several nearby statues. A long counter with consoles and weapons on displays filled the right side of the lobby.


    A hundred or so scantily clad females lounged on couches and chairs, but a dozen Meisters crowded the weapon counter. Max scanned the women who seemed content to talk amongst themselves. They all, more or less, wore a black bikini. He pictures the gathering like a field of wildflowers. Each different in little ways, but every one beautiful.


    He turned toward the weapon counter but barely made it two steps. A woman with caramel skin stood in a group of Meisters. She wore a black bikini like the others, along with a sheer sarong around her hips. Pushing two Meister''s to the side, she started toward him with a determined look in her eyes. And what incredible eyes they were. They were two colors; one an emerald green and the other like smoky amethyst. The woman came to a stop and put her hand on a caramel colored hip.


    "You came back," she said in a middle eastern accent. Max couldn''t recall encountering such an exotic beauty before. She was of average height with dark hair, a sculpted chin, and a figure to remember.


    "Do I know you?"


    "You cheeky rat. Surely thou remembers our pact?" She said, stepping toward him. The women went up on tiptoes, grabbed his face, and peered into his eyes. Then she pressed her face to his neck and sniffed. Behind her, the other Meisters glared at him in annoyance.


    "Ah, yes, the Sphinx," he said, and the woman laughed like a musical chime. "Now that you''re not looming over me, I didn''t recognize you."


    "Do you have a name?"


    "You can call me Nefertiti,"


    "That''s a mouthful."


    "My friends call me Nefi," she said, moving closer still. Her fingers traced his biceps through the t-shirt before feeling up his abs.


    "And you are?" She urged, reaching around him. Her chest pressed to his as her fingers felt his ass. Then she plucked the curved blade from his belt sheath and examined it.


    "Max."


    "Short and to the point," She said poking a finger with the tip of the knife. "I like it. However, I am surprised to see you again."


    "I hit Silver yesterday, and I''m looking for a contract."


    "Silver¡­ so soon, but I''m afraid I can''t give you my boon."


    "Still talking in rhyme?" He asked, and she laughed like a tinkling bell again. Nefertiti held the blade out by its tip, and he took it. He fiddled with the sheath for a second, then slid it back into place.


    "It pops out from time to time, or when I''m bored and so inclined."


    "What do you mean by boon?"


    "To contract, of course, but you aren''t fit to hold me¡ªyet. I won''t accept a Meister unless he''s Platinum rank, at least."


    "I thought you were a pistol?"


    "No silly. I was a special prize if anyone managed to survive the night. Since none accomplished such a difficult feat, I am left to pick my own Meister."


    "So¡­ what are you?"


    "An IWI Industries, Tungsten Carbine Plasma Cannon," she said, running her fingers along his collar. "I might consent to let you try me. The gentlemen behind me have been begging all morning." Ten Meisters formed a semi-circle behind the woman. Each one was giving him the stink-eye, and Max smiled back wolfishly. A collection of weapons, grenades, and other gear already hung from them.


    "That guy isn''t even Gold Rank, is he?" One Meister asked. He hadn''t come in here looking for trouble, but he couldn''t pass up this opportunity if only to piss them off. The woman was still against him, and Max let his hands roam down her curves. They descended to her ass, and he gave her a hard squeeze.


    "Stop that, you rascal," she growled huskily, and he settled for resting them on her lower back.


    "I''d love to try you out," he said, stroking her spine right where a tail would be. She pulled him through a side door and into a storage space. The other Meisters grumbled between themselves but followed them inside. Bulletproof windows revealed a small range and several players trying out new weapons. Ammo filled the shelves, and the woman pulled a few magazines down. She held them out along with a set of hearing protection. Max took the offered ear plugs, then joined her inside the range.


    The woman''s dark skin glowed briefly, and Max was forced to look away from the flash. Laying on the table was a rifle straight out of science fiction. It was gunmetal gray, and probably 40 inches from rail tip to buttstock. There was no barrel. Instead, two magnetic superconductors were separated by a few inches. The weapon''s weight surprised him, and Max grunted as he picked up the 25 pound rifle. Despite how cool she looked Nefi was a heavy weapon.


    "The magazine combines case-less ammunition and a replaceable battery. Insert it into the well and activate the rifle. It will take a few seconds to convert the tungsten carbide into energized plasma."


    Max pushed an oblong rectangular box into the well, and a small display lit up atop the gun. There was a safety on the side, and he flicked it down. The weapon hummed to life and instantly grew warm in his hands as the first round slid into the plasma chamber. The little display on top switched to a charging bar. He raised the cannon to his shoulder and braced it with his off hand. Thirty meters downrange was a cardboard target, and it begged for the first shot.


    He settled the ghost ring sights over the target and drew in a short breath. The trigger slack tightened until there was a click. The weapon discharged with a loud ''tha-whump'', and a ball of blue, green plasma shot between the magnetic rails. At first, it was about the size of a tennis ball and covered with crackling electricity. By the time it struck the target, it was basketball sized and exploded in a wash of eldritch energy. The cardboard man was missing most of its chest, and what was left was engulfed in green fire.


    "Holy shit, no wonder those players are hound-dogging you," he said admiring the weapon.


    "There are limitations. The plasma bolt disperses quickly in an atmosphere, so the shot has an effective range of 50 meters. Anything beyond will only cause minor burns."


    "So you''re more like a shotgun?"


    "It doesn''t roll off the tongue like Plasma Cannon," she said in a syrupy voice. "Besides, there are mods to increase the range at the cost of extra weight."


    "Can you be modded for close range?"


    "There are burst modules and a shorter mag rail if a close range weapon is what you''re going for."


    The display lit up again as the next round finished charging. Max aimed at a closer target. He squeezed the trigger, and a fist-sized hole appeared in the target''s head. The plasma round continued downrange until it exploded against a wall. Behind him, several Meisters excitedly pointed at the damage.


    Max was more than impressed. He''d seen grenades do less to a concrete wall. The sheer destructive potential was incredible, but the cannon''s short range was a problem. Friday could handle anything past a hundred meters, so he could switch to this when clearing a room. The ammo counter said he had three shots left, so he fired at another random target. Each shot required about two and a half seconds to charge, and he was torn by the long reload time.


    He purposely fired the next round into the concrete floor about twenty feet away. It sank in about an inch before exploding in a shower of flying debris. Max jerked sideways as a chunk of concrete slammed into the glass next to his head. There was a foot deep crater, and rock dust filled the air. The last round went into a cardboard target at the far end of the range. It washed over the paper cutout and set the man on fire, but cause no physical damage. Max grunted to himself and pushed a stud near the mag well. The box fell free with an electrical pop and a hiss of escaping gas.


    Max loaded the weapon again since Nefertiti had grabbed more than one magazine. The cannon finished charged, and he fired off several more bolts of blue-green energy.


    "I don''t suppose you''d consent to come home with me?"


    "Not a chance. You''re rising in rank, but nowhere close to take me home," She groaned changing forms after the last shot. She sagged against him, and he was forced to hold her still. Her caramel skin was flushed from excitement and her nails dug into his flesh. Now that she''d been fired, Nefertiti smelled like ozone, or maybe the burned smell after a lightning strike. He wanted her, badly, but it was a long way until Platinum rank.


    "We have a pact, still?" He asked hopefully and she licked her lips. Her button nose twitched as she inhaled his scent, but she gathered herself and pushed away. Nefertiti purposely fixed the sarong around her waist as she turned away. He caught up and opened the door as she started for the range exit. The other Meisters crowded behind them like they were forming a line. Two, in particular, were glaring daggers at him.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Maybe you can help me find a weapon. I''m looking for a grenade launcher. A Paw-20 or a Milkor would be best, but I''ll settle for a single shot launcher."


    "You''re not gold, at least, you don''t smell like it," she said, sniffing him again. Her face was inches from his chest, and a pink tongue licked across her lips. The more he was around this woman, the more he wanted her in his harem. He forced himself away from the image of her on his bed, spread eagle, and eager.


    "I''m planning for the future. I already have a Scar, which handles like a dream, but I can''t count the number of times a well-placed grenade saved our bacon."


    "Hmm," the woman stopped near the lobby entrance and tapped a manicured finger against her chin in thought. "I do know someone, but she''s¡ªa bit odd." Max thought about Violet and Friday. He didn''t begrudge them their relationship, but Max sometimes felt like a third wheel.


    "I doubt it can get any weirder than what I''m currently involved with," he replied with a weary sigh. Nefertiti examined him for a second then walked across the lobby to the consoles.


    "Don''t try anything fish," a male meister hissed grabbing his arm, and Max jerked to a stop. He looked back at the massive player following him. He was probably two inches taller with a wild mane of blond surfer hair. Mr.Muscles looked like he was addicted to protein shakes and steroids cocktails. It was a good thing they didn¡¯t have to use the facilities in Gun Meister. Max doubted this guy would be able to wipe his own ass.


    "Or what?" Max asked, and the fingers on his arm tightened.


    "A noob like you should know his place." Another player added. She was a woman of towering height and breasts to match.


    "Oh, I know my place. It''s between that cannon''s caramel thighs," Max said, jabbing his thumb into the Meister''s wrist. The grip weakened, and Max yanked his arm free. He gave them a death''s head grin before turning toward Nefertiti. The woman waited for Max by the consoles, and her long finger poked him in the chest.


    "I don''t know the girl personally, but I''ve seen her around," she said, and the manicured fingertip poked his nose. Nefertiti lowered her hand and pointed past him to the elevators. A woman with dark auburn hair stepped out. She paused to snap her bubblegum as she looked around. Her skin was the color of cream, and she had thick nerdy glasses perched on her narrow nose. The girl looked like the main character in every teenage romance ever made. Wholesome, innocent, bookish were words that came to mind, but really she was the girl next door.


    "Missy," Nefertiti called, and the woman turned towards them. Her chestnut hair bounced as she came towards them, and he noticed they were done up in two pigtails. Like everyone else, the woman wore a black bikini and a black and gray plaid skirt. She snapped her bubblegum again as she came to a stop.


    "Nefertiti here says you''re a grenade launcher?" Max asked, and the girl turned to him. Her eyes were like liquid chocolate, and they took his measure with a glance.


    "I sure am," She said, drawing the bubble back into her mouth. The woman had a slight Canadian accent.


    "You''re new to Gun Meister, eh?" She asked in a voice like maple syrup over Belgian waffles. The woman was almost opposite that of Nefertiti. The plasma cannon was an exotic eastern beauty, while this girl looked like someone you''d run into at the local library. It had been¡ªwhat? A week since Halloween. Had it only been only seven days? The woman stuck out her hand, and Max took her dainty fingers in his.


    "My first week," we admitted, and her eyes studied him again.


    "Silver, eh. First week?


    "I already have a Scar-H. I got an extra contract slot on Halloween, and I''m looking for my next weapon." He said, and the woman shifted. She settled her hand on her hip and looked up at him.


    "Now I see why, Nefi was talking to you. The girl is nice and all, but she''s got an ego the size of a planetoid."


    "What model you are?"


    "Milkor Six Shot Grenade Launcher," she said, looking past him. The gathered Meisters were starting to edge into Nefertiti''s space. Max turned to follow her gaze. The plasma cannon was caught up in conversation with them, and soon she was walking back towards the range.


    "There was a time when grenade launchers were all the rage," the woman mused to herself. "Now you can buy the launcher mod for any assault rifle."


    "That''s one way to do it, but I prefer to keep my rifles streamlined."


    "Do you wanna try me out?"


    "No, I''ve used a Milkor before," he admitted. The bubblegum changed sides, and she licked a nervous tongue across her lips.


    "Listen, I''d love to contract, but there''s something I should tell you¡ª"


    Max stopped her. He quickly reached up and covered her mouth with his palm. The girl stopped talking, and they stood there looking at one another for a moment.


    "I don''t care if you''re in a relationship. I don''t care if you''re currently working. It doesn''t even bother me if you like girls. I desperately need a grenade launcher, and whatever your deal is we can work around it." Max said, and let go of her mouth. She popped her bubblegum again to give herself a second to think.


    "I was going to say; you have to be Gold to contract with me. You can''t use explosive devices until you rank up."


    "Oh," he said, feeling a touch stupid. "So we can''t contract even if I have a slot?"


    "Sorry, no."


    Max frowned but kept himself from sighing in annoyance. He thought he could get away with contracting her now and bring her into a match later. She took her gum out and flicked it into a nearby trash can. His thoughts were interrupted as she circled him.


    "I suppose I could stay at your place. I''ve already waited long enough for a Meister."


    "It''s not technically my place, but I don''t think they''ll mind."


    "I''m Missy," she said, sticking out her hand a second time. He took it¡ªagain¡ªand shook. This time her grip kept his for several awkward moments longer.


    "Max," he replied, and she let go.


    "Do you mind if I run upstairs to get my things?"


    "Go ahead, but I don''t have a car."


    "I''ll just bring a day bag then," she said, skipping toward the elevator. Her chestnut pigs bounced, and he watched her from behind. The girl spun and tapped the elevator button, then pointed at him, and gave him a ''you wait right there,'' gesture. Missy seemed perfectly normal, and frankly, he needed that in his life. He just hoped Violet and Friday would be okay with another housemate.


    Max pondered what to do about his extra contract slot. He had a pistol, a battle rifle, and soon would have a grenade launcher. The Plasma Cannon was a distant possibility, but Platinum rank seemed like a long way away. A machine gun would round out his gun collection.


    He waited for about twenty minutes and spent the time using the Armory''s search console. Half a dozen grenade launchers were staying at the hotel, and twenty more stand-alone systems. He also found a single M249 Bravo available, but the profile said the weapon was male.


    The elevator doors opened, and a brown-haired woman bounced out. She carried a bag slung over her shoulder like someone off to their first day of school. A light gray jacket was draped over her other shoulder. Black stockings and a pair of sneakers now adorned her long legs. Max turned as she took his elbow, and he canceled his search, and they turned toward the exit.


    "So tell me about yourself," he said as they left the Armory.


    "Gosh, I''m not sure what to say. It''s been a while since anyone asked about me. I was manufactured during the first month the game was live. Things are a bit goofy now with all the plasma cannons, rail guns, and other super weapons appearing since Star Nova went live." Missy said, skipping down the marble stairs.


    "You''ve been around. I take you''ve had your fair share of Meisters."


    "Not especially. I had one meister for most of that time. She deleted her previous character after a few months and started over."


    "Why?"


    "I''m sure there were lots of reasons, but she always said she wanted to be short and cute."


    "Playing an MMO just to be short and cute is a stupid motivation," Max commented dryly. "I imagine she had pink hair too."


    "No, it was a sort of teal color," Missy said and slipped a hand into his as they walked. "How about yourself?" She asked after a short pause.


    "Military until recently. You could say I''m retired, so I spend a lot of time in the game." Max said, not willing to get into the whole ''ghost'' thing just yet.


    "That''s good to hear, eh," she said trotting alongside him. They made it to the intersection and were forced to wait for the light.


    "Cause I''ll stick around?" He asked, and Missy shrugged.


    "No, well, yes technically, but my first Meister used to say ''why do something if it isn''t fun?''"


    "There''s some truth to that," he admitted and started across the street. There wasn''t much else to do other than head home and wait for the girls to get off work. Tomorrow the gang could get together for some casual matches. He hoped Diego and Wulfe reached silver quickly. The soon they trained, the better.