ã€ŠGun Meister Online: Old Eyes (A Fan Fiction)ã€‹


 Prologue

    The steel cylinder was growing dusty, its shiny surface gradually dulling to the same dingy look as the rest of his apartment''s furnishings. Blaine sat in his chair staring at it with all the hostility of an old rat eyeing a new wheel in his cage.

    "Just try it," he said aloud, his voice a high mocking falsetto. "It can open your world up! You won''t have to leave the apartment, it''s a safe space for veterans like you."

    Nobody answered him of course. His words rang hollow in the tiny studio, a world of bare tile and bitter thoughts.

    "Could have been a maid or a cook," he told the machine in his normal voice. "Could have been a bigger apartment! Could have been a shuttle service to the Grand Canyon so I can wheel myself off the edge!"

    He''d made the mistake of reading the instruction manual and now he was curious. As a famous movie had once explained, an idea was the worst parasite. This thing had sat ignored ever since the therapist''s assistant had delivered it, his obsequious ''Enjoy'' still filling him with disgust. What had the man known? Was it true, what people said about VR divers?

    "Take a walk on the beach," he mimicked his therapist again. "Go for a drive! Meet some people!"

    The letter caught his eye and he snatched it up. It was a form letter, solemnly informing him that his thirty-six sessions with a licensed therapist had all been used up, and he was no longer a patient of Margaret Schofield. There were crisis numbers listed below in case he felt like listening to call waiting music in the bath tub with his toaster in hand. Like the extension cord would even reach that far. But the second page was a handwritten note from Dr. Schofield, just a few lines of regrets and well wishes, scribbled across a printed list of VR experiences. Mocking aside, he would miss her dry wit. She understood veterans. She wouldn''t clutch at the hotline when his humor turned dark, she knew how men like he coped. What really drew his attention on this wasn''t the words, or the woman''s cramped handwriting, but the single line she''d drawn under a title.

    Gun Meister Online.

    The title was low on the official list of recommended experiences, with an asterisk that indicated it was not for people suffering combat-related PTSD. Blaine didn''t consider himself especially strung out, not like some guys he''d known, but he also knew his official file had him flagged for the condition. So why had she marked it? Was she trying to send him a message? Push him one last time? Or was this a final opiate, a painkiller disguised as painkillers instead of pills? That curiosity was why he''d cracked open the instruction book and finally read over the features. The VR gear was complicated and expensive, but some dingus in charge of budgets had decided that the one-time expense was cheaper than keeping all the other promises made to disabled veterans, for lifestyle aide, shuttle services, physical therapy, personal caretakers... no, just give the rat a wheel and let him tire himself out.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Aaaand now he was back to where he''d started, glaring at the machine. What was this thing even like? Could he control himself within it or was it more of a 4D movie watching experience?

    The clock on the far wall caught his eye. It was only a couple of minutes past one in the afternoon. He''d only been in this spiral for forty-five minutes. Damn, he''d been hoping this could distract him until dinnertime. It seemed he would have a lot of free time this afternoon... time to sulk or time to do something.

    He nearly turned away. His fingers were on the steel hoops of his chair''s wheels, set to whirl him towards the door. But where would he go? Out into the hall and back again? No, he''d have to pretend he didn''t see the pity in his neighbor''s eyes, grin and thank them for their well-intended platitudes. Sweeping and mopping wouldn''t be enough to burn away the time until dinner, and why bother anyway?

    In the end, the looming threat of hours at loose ends made up his mind. He wheeled himself forward in his mobility chair and spun it around, settling himself into position. Reaching up he unhooked the helmet and settled it down on his head. Was this his first step into a better world or had he just closed the lid on his own coffin? There was a hiss and a click, and he felt a strange sensation. He was used to numbness in his legs, but the same paralysis was spreading up his chest and out to his arms. He had a moment of panic before everything cut off. No sensation at all. He was a floating ghost, just a point of view, viewing a menu of options. No manipulation, no tactile feedback... not even a cursor, but when he contemplated his actions the menu shifted, responding to his thoughts and points of interest. There was the generic ''Start here'' and ''''French Cafe Lounge'' options that seemed intended for beginners. He ignored them, and the menu whirled to the title that had piqued his interest earlier. A grim-faced man in paramilitary gear brandished a rifle in the game''s preview, while a buxom redheaded woman massaged his shoulders. Seemed cheesy, but what the hell? It seemed to try a little harder than Cafe a la Vomit or whatever that starter title had been. Willing himself forward, Blaine selected the game and the world faded into darkness once more as the program took over from the dive helmet''s operating system. Defiance surged in his chest for no good reason at all and he fought it back. No. He''d always done every physical therapy exercise to the best of his ability, exactly as specified. This could be no different. He had to trust this, if it was ever to be more than a distraction.

    "Let''s go already," he said aloud, his voice echoing in his ears, and light bloomed as the game begin.

 Chapter 1: Character Creation

    Gun Meister Online loading¡­ Complete.

    Logging into server¡­ Complete.

    New Player Detected¡­

    Initiating Character Creation¡­

    Blaine studied the sexless, unformed avatar in the tank. It floated, oblivious to his scrutiny, a feeble beginning to this new world. Beyond, the cloning laboratory spread out in a forest of identical tubes. The place was sterile and commercial, a farm of human lives under harsh industrial lights.

    His mind tightened and he yanked his thoughts back to the current task. There was a holographic interface next to the test tube showing a variety of options for appearance. Blaine amused himself with the genetic sliders, freely combining heritages and refining features like a sculptor adjusting clay. In the end though, he settled on a mix of Germanic and Celtic DNA, reflecting his own ancestry. The embryo expanded as he sent the command to the tube, sending ripples through the suspension fluid. It aged visibly, growing into a youth with dark hair and a bold face. If I ever had a son... he might look like that. Satisfied, he moved on to the next step.

    The hologram flickered and shifted to a new display, listing stats and describing their uses. When the audible instructions warned him gravely that the stats would never change he felt lost. What kind of game didn''t have natural progression?

    "You have five points," the instructions continued in mechanical cadence, the clinical tone detached from the weight of the choices. "Strength governs carrying capacity and recoil control, essential for handling high-caliber weapons. Agility enhances your movement speed, giving you the flexibility to maneuver through the battlefield. Endurance expands your stamina and health, ensuring you outlast your opponents in combat."

    Goddammit why didn''t I look this game up first?

    The manual he''d read had nothing at all about gameplay, instead focusing on silly things like safety overrides and disclaimers. Logging out and doing some research made sense, but was he really going to take the easy way out?

    If he chose wrong, he could always respec later. What he''d lose in money he''d make up for in insight. After all, one man''s meta might be another man''s meme.

    Strength was an easy choice; he raised it to three points and felt confident he could handle all but the heaviest machine guns. Endurance nearly claimed the rest, but he hesitated. This was a game, not real life¨Clong slogs on foot probably weren''t very common. In the end, he raised Endurance to two points and dropped the rest into Agility. Quick maneuvers for cover sounded more exciting than trying to push straight through enemy fire.

    The boy in the cloning pod grew larger, swelling into a man with a lean, predatory build. The user interface allowed him to tweak the details so Blaine made the brow a bit heavier, grew out the hair into a sleek lupine look, and added a short thick beard. The result was defined, masculine, and carried an edge of danger. This young version of himself looked good, but the brash, almost cocky look didn''t sit right with him. He found the age slider and dialed it up, frosting the beard and temples and etching hard-earned lessons into the corners of the eyes. The final image was evocative, a grim veteran whose flinty gaze suffered no fools.

    A notice informed him that tattoos and scars were earned through gameplay. That was a bit disappointing, but he supposed that it made sense, it would show some progression in the game, maybe a way to display victories and defeats? He''d find out soon enough. With nothing left to tweak he accepted the new body with a final mental command.

    There was a whirling sensation as his consciousness dived forward. He flailed for a solid hold as the fluid of the cloning pod swirled about his limbs, draining from the pod. There was light, sharp and blinding as the breathing mask unsealed and lifted away. Hard steel grating bit into his feet¨Chis feet! After years of nothing below his pelvis this flood of sensation was overwhelming. He felt as if he was standing on nails, the shock of sensation exploding up his legs. For the first time in years he could stand, unsteadily at first, but he clutched at the edges of the front hatch until he felt more confident.

    He had feet! He could even wiggle his toes! Biting back a hysterical laugh he flexed his knees and jumped. Just an inch off the ground, but he felt like he was floating. Already this was worth the plunge. He''d have to send Dr. Schofield a card¨Cand flowers.

    Damn, that felt good. Too good¨Cso good it almost scared him. It''s only a game. Don''t get addicted already. That thought sobered him, and he looked about for a towel to clean off the fluid. Several were stacked on a shelf, he took one down and started rubbing himself dry. The sensation tingled over his skin. His mind was back on track now, the euphoria of walking fading to mellow satisfaction as he looked around for the next step in the game.

    A green light flickered to life over the door. Blaine stepped forward, wet footprints gleaming on the polished floor behind him. The door hissed open as he approached, and he entered a locker room. The place was as generic and sterile as the growing room, punctuated by the faint sting of bleach. A young man stood by the bench, his gray uniform crisp and his stance rigid. He reminded Blaine of the military valets officers had in the old movies, polishing boots and offering grounding advice. Was this a trainer? Probably just an NPC. He nodded in greeting anyway just to be polite.

    The young man nodded back. "Welcome to Gun Meister. Is this your first time playing?"

    "Yeah," Blaine peered around the room, looking for any more details, but it seemed they were alone.

    "You must have many questions," the young man watched without much interest as Blaine continued to dry off. "The valet nodded back. "Welcome to Gun Meister. Is this your first time playing?"

    "Yeah," Blaine peered around the room, but they were alone.

    "You must have many questions," the young man watched without much interest as Blaine continued to dry off. "There are a veritable plethora of virtual games. Some fantasy, others modern or futuristic fiction. In these, your character will level struggling to gain power and abilities. Not so with Gun Meister. Here your avatar doesn''t grow, you do." There was a dramatic pause. Blaine wasn''t sure if he was supposed to be impressed. "The valet nodded back. "Welcome to Gun Meister. Is this your first time playing?"

    "Yeah," Blaine peered around the room, but they were alone.

    "You must have many questions," the young man watched without much interest as Blaine continued to dry off. "There are a veritable plethora of virtual games. Some fantasy, others modern or futuristic fiction. In these, your character will level struggling to gain power and abilities. Not so with Gun Meister. Here your avatar doesn''t grow, you do." There was a dramatic pause. Blaine wasn''t sure if he was supposed to be impressed. "We strive for a realistic experience. There are no levels, no stat increases, no legendary items, in fact, there is no inventory system at all. We have eliminated the entire user interface."

    Come to think of it, that was a little odd. Blaine tried to examine the corners of his field of vision, and found no health bar, no action buttons or shortcuts, nothing like what he usually saw in video games. The kid nodded, seeing Blaine''s confusion. "In order to access the system menu touch the side of your temple with two fingers. Like so. Of course the emergency codes are still in place, as well as the emergency overrides. But we don''t encourage making their use a habit."

    Blaine checked the menu, then tossed his wet towels over a bench. "Is there..."

    "The lockers you see contain uniforms of various sizes. Probably a middle size for you."

    Opening the recommended locker, Blaine reached first for the boots¨Cblack synthetic material, heavy soles, practical but dull. He''d worn boots nearly identical in Basic training, marching till his heels bled. "I''m hoping I can upgrade these later?"

    "The uniform is only a basic starter item, and doesn''t need to be kept," the young man assured him. "You will have the opportunity to purchase new clothing items and discard the issued gear. Everything must be worn. Guns, equipment, and even ammo will be carried into battle."

    Blaine blinked. Really? Would he have to reload his magazines by hand too?

    "Winning matches, killing enemies, and surviving will earn you money," the valet continued. "You can purchase most items in the game with the exception of weapons. Those are a bit more... personal."

    The boy seemed to have deviated from script to explain the uniform policy. It wasn''t like a video game character... more like a teacher who''d given the same lecture a thousand times. Blaine was impressed. He''d expected canned dialogue that followed trees of possible answers. If he didn''t know any better... he raised a finger, half-smiling. "Wait. Are you real?"

    "I am an NPC, if that is what you mean," the boy said. "But Skybox Studios has a dynamic system for all its NPCs that''s changing the gaming industry." He spoke a bit eagerly. "Each NPC has its own history of experiences that it uses to weigh responses from a multitude of databases. Just like the players, we do not change our base nature manually, but evolve and learn over time."

    Now that was interesting, and Blaine hesitated on the brink of a rabbit hole. The boy saw his expression and grinned. "I''m sure you have many more questions about the technical nature of my design, but I''m afraid I don''t have time for them all. Your gun will be able to answer questions at your leisure. Come on," he gestured to the next door with a wink. "Let''s go to the armory."

    Perhaps it was Blaine''s interest, but the boy seemed a bit more energetic as he led the way through another door and gestured proudly. "The weapons you see have all volunteered to be here. You may pick one. If you''re not satisfied, you can choose another later."

    He''d called it an armory but Blaine thought it looked more like an sculpture gallery, with spotlights casting light down over sleek pedestals, each presenting a single pistol in a padded case. Blaine stared, impressed by the presentation. He''d grown up shooting BBs at grasshoppers and using guns came as naturally to him as power tools or cooking utensils, but a well-crafted firearm was just as impressive to him as any work of art. In his opinion, guns were like women--beautiful, dangerous, and demanding of full respect. Grinning, he took a hesitant step. The boy nodded encouragingly, and Blaine rubbed his hands together.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Decisions, decisions.

    He paced down the rows, his nostrils flaring at the tang of metal and gun oil. He passed the Glocks without much interest, the 1911s with far greater reluctance. If one of STI''s 2011s had been on that shelf he would have jumped on it, but Browning''s classic design was just a little outdated for a modern fighting pistol. He didn''t consider the revolvers at all. A wheelgun might make a nice backup, but for his primary he needed something fast and efficient.

    A row of FN pistols caught his eye, and Blaine paused to study them. As his interest grew a hologram sparked to life. An idealized man or woman stood preening or flexing above each piece. One man struck a bodybuilder''s pose while a woman tousled her hair languidly and smirked at him. His eyebrows rose. Were the avatars connected to the guns somehow?

    "That''s right," the boy anticipated his question. "Each gun is a fully realized NPC with its own unique identity. When not serving as a firearm they can take the form you see previewed above."

    Well. This changed everything. He was half tempted to go back and look at everything again, just to see who had the biggest breasts, but the kid anticipated the thought and gave the smallest shake of his head. Whoa. Was that an actual suggestion? If all the NPCs were this sharp he couldn''t think of the guns as just tools. Were they... partners? He felt himself straighten a bit as the responsibility settled over his shoulders. This first pick had to be right.

    Too many conflicting thoughts. He tightened his focus, studying the weapons and ignoring the eye-catching holos. He passed over several internal-hammer designs¨Cjust too blunt for his taste¨Cand lingered on a CZ that looked great but was chambered in an unfamiliar cartridge. And then he saw it. A familiar shape, like an old friend, sitting at the very end of the row. It was a big matte black .45, with a polymer frame and no-nonsense lines. An external hammer, a rail under the barrel, a threaded barrel--this looked like the big sister of the FNP 9mm his father had taught him to shoot with. He''d spent many hours with that pistol, he knew it fit his hand well. Tilting his head he saw that this one was an FNX. Worth researching later, he thought, and certainly worth his time now.

    He looked up at the holo finally and saw delicate features, blonde hair, and eyes brimming with hope and excitement. Grinning, he scooped up the pistol. The holo vanished but a happy purr tickled his ear as he checked the pistol''s chamber. When he pointed at an empty corner, and dry fired with a crisp snap there was a gasp of excitement.

    "An excellent choice," the boy said. "Are you sure you haven''t played this game before?"

    "I was in the Army," Blaine said absently, tucking the weapon into his waistband at 4 o''clock. The high-speed operators he''d worked with had sworn by appendix carry, but Blaine preferred comfort. This pistol was full-sized, she deserved a proper belt holster.

    "Ahhh, we find many veterans in this community," his guide nodded. "You''ll find a large number of guilds that use military structure, if that''s your thing. Now, take your gun into the next room. She''ll guide you from there. There''s a lot to learn, but trust your weapon and you''ll do well."

    "Thanks," Blaine said, walking toward the green-lit door and pushing it open. Soft, sultry piano music greeted him, the warm notes curling through the air like smoke. His boots scuffed softly against plush carpet as the sterile sharpness of the armory gave way to muted lighting and an almost intimate atmosphere. The air was warmer here, faintly perfumed with something floral, and Blaine¡¯s steps slowed as he took in the room.

    His eyes narrowed. The only piece of furniture was a wide, low bed draped in crimson sheets that shimmered faintly under the dim light. What kind of tutorial ended in a brothel room? He couldn''t see a weapons bench or targets or anything else even remotely appropriate here.

    Sudden heat against his hip made him flinch. The pistol had glowed blue before vanishing from where he''d tucked it. Wow, smooth, way to impress your weapon, jumping like a cat.

    "Thank you for choosing me for your first weapon," a soft voice said at his elbow. Blaine turned. He was no longer alone in the room. The same girl from the holo was standing there, vibrant and impossibly real. Blaine''s breath caught in his throat¨Cshe was heartbreakingly beautiful. Her delicate bone structure gave her face a sculpted grace softened by plush lips quirked in a soft smile. Her eyes, startlingly green, met his gaze boldly.

    Blaine stared at her. The little black bikini she wore accentuated the elegant curves of a dancer. Even as he fumbled for words she smiled wider and twirled playfully on the balls of her feet. Then she ruffled her blonde hair and stepped closer almost touching him, her breath warm on his cheek.

    "What is your name?" she asked, her words flavored with a European accent¨CFrench, maybe?

    He wiped quickly at his mouth, just in case he was drooling. "I''m Blaine," he managed, his tongue suddenly a size too large. "Do I need a username? They didn''t give me one."

    "You don''t need a username unless you''d like to go by a specific ''handle''," she replied coyly. "You can just introduce yourself. Hi Blaine. It''s very nice to meet you. What''s my name?"

    "You''re an FNX," Blaine said tentatively.

    "No," she chuckled. "I''m sorry, I don''t have a name. Just a unique ID number like you. It''s up to you to name me¨Cif you want."

    Blaine had always thought the guys who named their rifles were weird. "Why don''t we hold off on that. Just till I get to know you better, if that''s okay with you?"

    She nodded eagerly. "As you wish. Are you going to contract with me?"

    Now he was really lost. "What do you mean?"

    She reached behind her back, and the top fell away. Beautiful breasts were set free, bigger than he''d expected, with small eager nipples and a bounce that drew his eye. His heart hammered against his chest and fire roared in his loins. She gave him a knowing, sultry smirk, bit her lip, and slid her hands down her toned belly to her bikini bottoms.

    "Stop."

    He hadn''t even decided to speak, but his voice was steady, only a hint of fire crackling in his throat. She froze with her thumbs hooked into her waistband, her eyes wide and startled as they peered cautiously up at her. They stared at each other. Blaine felt strength and confidence surging up from where it had long lain atrophied, and something more.

    His old pride uncoiled. He didn''t know much about this game, but he knew a woman''s body. This wasn''t going to be a rushed fumble, and he sure as fuck didn''t need a tutorial.

    He took her chin in hand and ran his thumb over her mouth, dragging gently at her soft lips, and she made a soft needy sound that made the blood roar in his ears. Her eyes fluttered closed and she shivered under his hand, her body tense and eager. He craved her now more than ever, but this moment would be his. He would do it on his terms.

    "What does this mean?" he asked again, voice a little rougher now. His other hand now rested on her shoulder, his thumb running over the curve of her collarbone. He wanted her, craved her with every fiber of being, but he needed to know more before he crossed this threshold.

    She turned her head and kissed his thumb lightly before her green eyes met his again, bright with excitement, her features serene. ¡°This is what it means to contract with me, Blaine,¡± she whispered. ¡°It means you must take me and know me, fuck me and make me yours. Conquer me in the oldest way and I will serve you with all of my heart.¡±

    Wow, way to grab the male ego by the dick.

    He bent down, pulling her face up and exposing her throat. until his lips gently brushed against hers. She shivered. He teased her mouth again, lips feather-light. Their first kiss was slow and sweet, tantalizing as they explored each other¡¯s mouths for the first time.

    She whimpered into his mouth, her body shifting closer, and it set his mind on fire.

    He let his control go. His mouth hardened against hers, his teeth raking her bottom lip, and he invaded her soft mouth, certain now of his purpose. Her initial surprised gasp melted into another moan, her body pressing urgently against his, her small hands fisting in his shirt. Her hips ground against his thigh in desperate need of friction, her frantic efforts making the blood pound in his ears.

    He gripped her ass with one hand, seating her exactly where she belonged, her body fitting into his with perfect feminine grace. The other cupped her throat with enough pressure to make her pulse flutter. She tipped her chin back in eager submission and moaned aloud as their kiss broke, the sound desperate and hungry.

    He knotted his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back so he could meet her gaze. Her eyes locked onto his, wide and shining with need. ¡°Undress me,¡± he ordered, and her trembling fingers flew to his waistband. She was panting now, breaths short and eager. Warm arousal tickled his nostrils, an intoxicating scent that mingled with the smell of hot steel. Her fingers grazed over him, hard and ready, and she shoved impatiently at his pants, freeing him to step out of them.

    "Come here," he growled, gripping her wrist and pulling her to the bed. She came eagerly, and when he turned her to face the bedspread she climbed forward without hesitation, palms flat and back arching, her ass raised in perfect submission. She looked back over her shoulder at him as her knees spread, eyes heavy with desire, lips parted. The fire in his chest roared again.

    He leaned over her, trailing his hand along her spine, and she shifted backwards in instinctive need, soft moans slipping from her lips. He tangled his fingers in her hair once more before mounting her, and she shuddered with pleasure as he filled her. She would have thrust herself back, desperate to take him to the hilt, but his fingers tightened and she surrendered. He was in control.

    He set a deliberate pace, savoring the way her body trembled at every movement.

    Her hands clawed at the sheets as cries of pleasure broke from her lips, her voice rising in frustrated need, his name running over her tongue in frantic pleas. Tightening his grip, he drove forward and her words dissolved into incoherent wails of ecstasy.

    The pace increased and she was growing tight, her breaths ragged and desperate. She was close, and her gasping whimpers of his name only drove him harder. His hips pistoned and he pulled back on her hair as they both raced towards the brink, the room echoing with their combined cries.

    She broke first, clenching down on him and crying out in delight, her body shaking. His last shred of self control tore away as she shrieked his name, and he slammed home with one final thrust before his own body snapped like a live wire. The fire in his chest roared out and consumed him, every nerve blazing. They clutched at each other, losing all control for a moment, as pleasure swept over them like a great wave.

    Slowly he came back to himself. He released her hair and let her slump forward on the bed, her body gleaming in the soft light as she gasped for breath. He sat down heavily next to her, one hand on her hip, his chest rising and falling as the haze of release began to clear. Her warmth pressed against him as she shifted, curling into his side, still shivering with aftershocks. He basked alongside her, stroking her thigh while their bodies cooled down. Eventually their breathing steadied and the world began to slip back into focus. She sat up and leaned into his chest, kissing him softly. He stroked her hair, gently combing out the tangle he''d made.

    A plastic collar encircled her throat, black and gleaming under the lights. When had that gotten there? When he peered at it he saw a series of numbers. Probably the unique ID she''d mentioned earlier. He reached out to touch it, and she smiled up at him, turning her head to kiss his finger once more.

    ¡°Thank you, Blaine,¡± she whispered breathless and soft, as if speaking from the bottom of her heart. ¡°Oh, thank you so much¡­¡±

    He didn''t even hesitate. ¡°You are welcome, Katya,¡±

    The effect was instant. She shuddered as if he¡¯d touched her again, eyes fluttering closed, a soft gasp of satisfaction punctuating her delight.

    ¡°Katya¡­¡± she repeated, and as he¡¯d expected, her accent turned the noun into a truly beautiful sound. She made another happy coo, and snuggled closer. His chest tightened and he slid his arm around her while they existed, drifting together in a world of soft flesh and shared warmth.

    At last he sat up. She giggled softly, her mirth warm and musical, and extended her hand. He took it and pulled her to her feet. They began to get dressed again. Somehow his clothing had ended up all over the room when did I undress? and her bikini bottom was found after some confusion tangled up with the bed sheets.

    "That was contracting," Katya explained as she tied her minimalistic clothing back on. "We will have to reaffirm our contract at least once a month." She shot him an impish grin. "Or more often."

    "More often indeed," he sighed, pulling on his boots. "Fuck! I haven''t done that in ages."

    "We could always go again..." she purred, leaning over the bed to kiss the side of his head. His heart raced but he shook his head ruefully, leaning forward to lace up his boots. "If we stay here any longer I''ll never want to leave."

    Her chuckle was an understated thing, soft but rich. "Oh, I understand Blaine. All right, come with me." She pulled aside a curtain to reveal the exit, looking back coyly over her shoulder. "I can answer questions for you as we go."

 Chapter 2: First Steps

    They exited the love nest and Blaine found the first real discrepancy between the virtual game and the real one--bright sunlight didn''t make him want to squint. They were standing in a hotel lobby, its polished marble floors gleaming beneath the impossibly clean light. Equally impossible, within moments of the door closing behind him it opened again and two more people came out, brushing past him quickly. Where had they come from? He stepped aside and looked after a statuesque woman in a gray uniform like his followed by a smaller woman in a black bikini just like Katya''s. Oh, the bedroom must have been instanced, he realized, an area that existed simultaneously for multiple users. Katya watched him with a playful smirk until he stepped out, falling in step beside him on soft bare feet.

    "Oh, don''t you need clothing?" he asked as they walked.

    "Clothing and other accessories are down the street," she explained. "There''s a mall down there. This is the Dallas server, but the shopping areas are still instanced for a few hundred people at a time so it won''t ever be too crowded."

    That was convenient, Blaine thought, a quality of life improvement he could appreciate. As they wove through the lobby he began to notice just how massive some of these players were. Thick-set men and amazonian women towered in various forms of juggernaut armor, carrying thick breaching shields on their backs or hefting LMGs, grenade launchers, even sleek energy weapons. In contrast, smaller players quick-footed through this forest of muscle and ceramic, wearing minimalist clothing, carrying submachine guns and light carbines.

    It was clear¨Caverage people were definitely uncommon. Between his stats and his drab newbie uniform he felt painfully out of place. Beside him Katya didn''t seem to have a care in the world, practically naked in her bikini.

    Don''t let them see you blink. They''re just gamers, just like you. Come on, you''ve done this for real.

    Setting his sights on the mall he made a mental note to ask Katya about the stats later.

    "How do I get more guns?" he asked. "Not that you aren''t awesome, but are all those guns like you?"

    "They are," the blonde said, skipping quickly past a vent in the street as steam billowed up around her. "Don''t worry, it''s not hard. Right now you''re a Copper ranked player, which means you can only do pistol matches. At Silver rank you can contract with a second weapon and wear light armor."

    A second weapon... "So, two guns? At the same time?"

    Katya may have chuckled, but the street noise drowned out the sound of amusement. "At the same time if you like. Guns don''t have sexual preferences like you humans. Most players pick a multifunctional primary unless they already have a team role in mind by then."

    Two girls. Katya was incredible by herself, but a second girl? The groups of people he saw walking around made more sense now. Those weren''t clans, they were meisters followed by their weapons. Some of those groups were... really fucking big. Now he was second-guessing his stat points again. Had he capped himself without realizing it? Not much he could do about it now. If he restarted the game he might lose Katya, and that wasn''t an option. Focus on the present. The mall was just up ahead.

    Shopping wasn''t Blaine''s passion. He knew what he liked, liked what he knew, and didn''t want to waste time browsing gear he couldn''t afford. He only had a starting balance of a thousand credits, and regardless of the local economy, gear was always expensive. At the outfitter''s he quickly chose a hip holster for Katya and a few mag pouches, with a heavy web belt to hold it all up. Simple and practical, not a penny wasted on flash or frills.

    When he saw the price of extra mags, though, his stomach dropped. "Good grief, two thousand credits for a 15-round mag?"

    "I''m a very good gun," Katya said, dusting imaginary dust from her minimalist top. "There are 10-round mags for only a hundred credits," she added, softening slightly. "But I''m a good gun, and I come standard with a very good caliber and capacity already. My upgrades are a little more expensive, but you have a better foundation than a 1911 with only seven rounds, or a revolver with no options at all." She smirked proudly. "The devs had to work in a price for quality somewhere."

    Well. That made sense, he thought reluctantly, as he watched his credit account dwindle to double digits. He had everything he needed to get started--even the ammo--but if he didn''t pick the game up quickly he would be resorting to going through couch cushions looking for change.

    "Don''t worry about the money so much," Katya said as they headed towards the ranges. "Even if you don''t win right away you''ll still be rewarded for kills, and there''s no price to enter. Just don''t drop my magazines during the matches and the only thing you''ll be losing is the cost of ammo."

    Blaine grunted assent. He''d bought standard ball rounds, nothing fancy. The clerk had pointed out that none of his opponents would be wearing body armor at this rank, and proper shot placement was more important than hollow points or penetration. That was fine with him. A clear head and a straight shot was far more important than the latest gear. Quantity trumped quality, so he was lugging nearly a thousand rounds down to the practice hall. It had been a while since he''d done any serious shooting.

    A group of meisters came down the sidewalk towards them, a hulking mass of weapons and armor. Katya slipped behind him to make room. Her soft fingers hooked into his belt. That touch was a bit surprising. When she came back to his side she didn''t let go, which surprised him more.

    It wasn''t a casual caress, her grip felt unconsciously tight as though she was grounding herself or scared of something. He glanced back over his shoulder at the group, but there didn''t seem to be anything unusual about them. She pulled away as she realized his confusion, cheeks pink with embarassment.

    He decided to cover the awkward moment with a question. "So does aiming work as well as... everything else in the game?"A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    She shot him a grateful smile. "It should be. Part of the reason for such an intimate contracting process is full-body calibration. The dive helmet is constantly mapping your nervous system, and when we... connected... the game was able to calibrate more precisely. If you were a good shot in real life, the skills should translate seamlessly."

    That was an interesting detail, Blaine thought as they pushed open the doors and entered the main practice hall lobby, the walls lined with helpful posters about trigger pull and sight alignment. For some reason the developers had also seen fit to include the need for eye and ear protection¨Cas if the game couldn''t adjust noise levels¨Cbut he put them on without a fuss and entered the range with Katya in tow.

    The room echoed with gunfire, a cheerful cacophony of sharp cracks and booming echoes. People were lined up at their lanes, cheerfully blasting away with everything from coach guns to one of those weird laser rifles. Blaine watched the bright particle beam melt a target with some amusement before finding his own lane. He patted the bench invitingly, and Katya glowed before vanishing from his side and appearing beneath his fingers.

    "You have good trigger control," she said softly into his ear as he dropped the mag and began to load up. "I must confess, when you first tested me in the armory... unfff, I haven''t been handled like that in a while."

    That surprised him. He slid the filled magazine into the weapon and racked the slide, smooth as butter. "Why''s that? I thought you were new like me."

    A silence. He glanced down. Katya''s vibrant tone seemed to shrink and wilt, he could imagine her human form quailing. "Oh, I''m so sorry," she said, her tone brittle and rushed. "I didn''t mean to trick you. You''re not my first contract."

    He clicked off the safety and spent a few moments playing with the sight alignment while he chewed over her words... but more than that, her tone. Was he missing something? What was making her so upset? He didn''t think he''d said anything wrong. "What do you mean?" he asked at last, lowering her to point at the ground.

    "I''m sorry!" she repeated quickly, panic now creeping into her disembodied voice. "I didn''t mean to trick you. If you want a virgin gun you can return to the armory. Don''t worry, you aren''t forced to use me if you don''t want me. New batches don''t drop very often anymore, but as a new player you''ll get--"

    He drowned out the rest of her words in a single rolling crescendo of shots. Hot lead snarled downrange as fast as he could realign the sights, a satisfying tang of burned powder in his nostrils. The paper target shivered under the onslaught.

    "You''re MY fucking gun," he snarled, not bothering to keep his voice low. Someone glanced at him suspiciously from the next cubicle, but Blaine didn''t give a damn, strangers meant nothing to him. "Mine, you hear me? I''m happy with you, and you were happy with me. If you want to leave, leave, I won''t tie you to the bed, but you''re a good gun and a pretty girl and you''re mine."

    His hands, steady as steel through the firing, now shook as he dropped out her magazine. Katya had fallen silent, whether from fright or anger or something else he couldn''t tell. He began to reload, fumbling rounds everywhere. His finger slipped and a round popped forward, rolling onto the range ahead of him with a cheerful clink. He cursed under his breath and didn''t try to retrieve it, ramming the mag home again and focusing on the paper target. It hung silently, mocking his frustration.

    Blaine pulled the trigger twice. Breathed. And sent two more. He forced himself to send controlled pairs downrange. Bits of paper flew out as the target''s center slowly disappeared.

    Reloading again, he put this mag into the target''s head. His hands were calming down now and he could get the bullets into the mag without dropping them. More shots. Drills, drills, drills. Everything he could think of, every trick he''d learned in twenty years of military law enforcement. Controlled pairs. Double taps Mozambique drills One-handed reloading. Off-hand shooting.

    Katya performed flawlessly. She didn''t falter, didn''t jam, didn''t hesitate. Her action was smooth as silk, stripping rounds one at a time. He had to fabricate malfunctions just so he could run through clearing drills. Each time she responded cleanly.

    Damn, she was a fine pistol.

    By the time he was through his ammo he was entirely calm again, though his thumbs ached from forcing rounds into magazines and his ears were ringing despite the hearing protection. He reloaded Katya a final time, dropped his last two boxes of ammo into a pouch, and sat down on the bench.

    For a moment he just sat there, running his fingers over her heated slide.

    "You''re mine," he said at last, softening his voice. "I don''t care about your past. If you''re a good gun then you''re my good gun. And I''ll take care of you. Understand?"

    She didn''t reply. Blaine sighed and stood up, dropping off his earpro and eyepro at the front desk before walking out. The street outside was still buzzing with activity. It seemed to be late afternoon¨Cif the game tracked such things¨Cand Blaine decided he needed a break. He started walking down the sidewalk. Several buildings offered distractions, lounges and bars and nightclubs, but he wasn''t interested in distractions. He was calm, drained, and satisfied all at once. He had things to process. The motel across the street seemed like a good place to sit and think. He checked in, his remaining credits just barely enough to cover a room, and took the elevator up to the third floor. The room was tiny, just a bed, table, and chair. He settled down into the chair and unlaced his boots. His feet didn''t hurt, he noticed absently, that was nice. No break in period for boots.

    His hands were streaked in carbon. Poor Katya must be absolutely filthy after all that shooting. He unloaded her and disassembled the weapon in a few practiced motions, laying out her barrel and spring and slide on the table. He didn''t have any cleaning rags so he pulled off his own tee shirt and started using it to scrub her down. Sure enough, the garment was covered in gunk by the time he finished up. He didn''t have any oil for her slide so he''d have to make that a priority before he fired her again. Putting her back together, he ran another functions check and set her back down on the table.

    A soft blue light bloomed on the bed, and his pistol vanished. Katya appeared, seated cross-legged on the bed. Her head was bowed, her blonde hair spilling around like a curtain. For a moment she didn''t speak, just sat staring at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap. When she finally looked up her green eyes were shimmering with emotion.

    "I''m sorry," she whispered. "I should have told you sooner."

    "Apology accepted, now stop apologizing," Blaine said gently. "I meant what I said. I don''t care about your past."

    Her gaze searched his face and she bit her lip before smiling¨Ca nervous, tentative expression, but hopeful. "I''ve had other meisters before who didn''t like that," she admitted. "I haven''t had very good luck so far. They use me till they find a virgin gun. Then they leave me behind."

    Blaine''s chest tightened. "I''m not exactly in stock condition either," he said gruffly. "But I make do. You''ll have to settle for me, I''m afraid."

    She giggled weakly and took his hand in both of hers, squeezing. "I promise, Blaine, I''ll never let you down." Her voice grew stronger. "Thank you."

    He nodded, squeezing back. "I''m going to log out now. Tomorrow we''re going to start playing the game, so be ready okay? See if you can find a bottle of oil or something while I''m gone. I''d like to hit the ground running."

    Katya laughed softly, her green eyes sparkling. "Yes Meister."

    He grinned, despite himself. Yes Meister. A man could get used to that. Before he could get distracted again he settled back in his chair, touched his temple, and found the logout button.

 Chapter 3: First Match

    ¡°I made a mistake,¡± Blaine said when he saw Katya after logging back in. She blanched, her eyes wide with horror, and he hastened to clarify. ¡°Fuck, no, that¡¯s not what I meant! I mean spending my money! Spending money, that¡¯s all!¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course,¡± she tried to laugh it off but he could actually see the pulse racing in her throat. She wasn¡¯t panicking, but that had been close. She''s real enough, dumbass. Choose your words more carefully.

    ¡°I meant I should have thought of you,¡± he explained as he sat up from where he lay on the bed. ¡°I blew all that money yesterday on gear, but didn''t get you anything. And I love the bikini, don¡¯t get me wrong, but you should look like you''re mine. Something that says I''m proud to be your meister."

    Katya tilted her head, watching him. Her posture was relaxing by degrees, her arms loosely crossed. As he spoke her lips quirked in a genuine smile, and by the time he was finished she was stretching out, long and lithe like a cat. "I could do with something to wear..." she agreed, giving him a cheeky grin. "Not that I care much about fashion, but I''d love to make a statement for you."

    Blaine snorted. "Violence might be a universal language, but fashion is right there beside it. Okay, guess we''re going to the mall... oh shit, wait. Is weapon clothing expensive?"

    Her smile slipped and she cut her eyes away, she could do the math as well as he. "Oh, then never mind. It''s okay, really, I don''t need anything. You can run a few matches and then decide."

    Mmmm... no, she wasn''t fooling him twice. Blaine had seen the way her eyes had tracked weapons on the street. She deserved something. His eyes flicked around. The bed sheets... no, he couldn''t make those work. But then an image flashed into his head, and he grinned. "Okay, I''ve got it. Let''s find some tape."

    Katya wrinkled her nose as he held up the roll of black electrical tape. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Are you going to tape clothes onto me?¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not it,¡± Blaine grinned as he ushered her into an alley. She peered up at him skeptically as he explained. ¡°The tape is the clothes. Take off your top.¡±

    He¡¯d spent twenty-five of his last twenty-eight credits on the single roll. Peeling off a strip of tape he carefully laid it over one of the blonde¡¯s pink nipples, the black strip gleaming against her skin. She shivered a little at the sensation, but watched with growing interest as he pressed more pieces over her chest, creating sleek chevrons that covered just enough of her breasts to get by. Her green eyes widened as he kept working. "That''s... actually kind of cool," she admitted.

    "Hold that thought," Blaine pressed the tape down more firmly and kept working. More chevrons now swept over her shoulders, while parallel lines along her ribs accentuated her athletic build and drew the eye to her toned stomach. The bikini bottoms stayed in place but disappeared beneath a fan-shaped design that radiated from her hips and traced her thighs.

    When he finally stepped back Katya turned and inspected herself in a darkened window. "Huh," she murmured, running her fingers over the lines. "It''s... wow, it works. I kind of love it."

    "Good," Blaine pocketed the last of the tape. "You rock it. I may not be rich, but people will look at you and know I take care of you anyway."

    She glanced between her reflection and him, her grin softening. "You do take care of me," she said quietly. Coming back to him, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. He cupped her cheek and returned the kiss, slow and gentle.

    When the kiss broke her grin returned, bright and teasing. "Okay, are we going to the competition center now?

    "Of course," he offered his arm and she took it, tucking herself comfortably in at his side. "Let''s see if I''m any good at this game."

    Match starting.

    The darkness fell away from the world around him. Blaine blinked, looking around, instinctively on the move before he''d even totaled his surroundings. He was in a... jewelry store? His feet crunched on cheap plastic as he walked over a veritable wave of earrings that had fallen from displays around the room. This was one of those shops you saw at the mall that all the pre-teen girls got their first piercings at. The name of the place escaped him.

    The register offered him concealment, if not cover. He crouched behind it and held still, his ears straining. From the sounds and the lack of air currents he was... inside a mall. Yeah, that made sense. A few random echoes from outside, a lot of silence. Mall seemed right. He held Katya in a two-handed grip, the safety already off, waiting patiently for any signs of life out there.

    Sure enough, after a couple of minutes he heard approaching footsteps, and he realized his mistake.

    The ground was littered with junk--he might as well beat a drum before he emerged from his starting location. He should have found a better place to hunker down. Fuck! Fucking fuck! The footsteps were cautious, with long pauses between movements. Someone was moving from cover to cover out there, taking their time to clear each store front as they passed it. Someone smart, someone who knew how to handle themselves.

    That might work to his advantage, actually. Normally Blaine would never shoot blindly, it was a waste of ammo and an insult to his marksmanship. But trained fighters always dropped prone or sought cover when they heard gunshots. It was the best way to minimize your profile while you figured out where your enemy was. Aiming at the wall where he figured the enemy was most likely to be, he squeezed off two shots and immediately charged through the debris.

    He didn''t catch a bullet the moment he came out of the storefront, which was good. An amateur would have zeroed in on his location and probably blazed away right back. As it was he had a precious second before his quarry would reorient on his location, and he intended to make the most of it. Three steps out the door he threw himself prone just as someone popped around the side of a photo booth. They shot twice, one bullet whipping just over his head. Now he could give himself covering fire. Blazing away at the photo booth, he got back to his feet and scrambled away. In no time at all he was behind a heavy potted plant. Katya''s slide was locked back as he skidded into cover, and his hands shook with delighted adrenaline as he slapped a fresh mag home. This is great. My heart''s racing.

    He knew exactly where the enemy was... but if his covering fire had worked as intended they would have been too busy ducking back to track his movements. Dropping prone, trying to remember everything between the pot and the booth, he rolled out from his cover, glaring down at his front sight, looking for his opponent.

    He saw movement and fired again. There was a thwap and a scream. He had a glimpse of a skintight black suit before covering fire forced him back behind his plant. Legs coiled beneath him he tried to track the oncoming attacker based on sound, but the echoes were fucking with him and he wasn''t sure....

    A deep roar joined the barrage, a third gun was in the area. Popping up over his plant he saw the woman in the skintight black suit whirling to engage a man with anime-style hair. Bracing his arms on the edge of the pot Blaine grinned. The world narrowed to his front sight post as he settled it on the woman¡¯s chest.

    Two shots put her down, he sent a third into her for good measure. His focus swiveled to the man, who was fumbling with the cylinder of his revolver. He blanched as Blaine stood up from cover and tried to scramble away. Poor guy. Blaine followed, heel-to-toe, perfectly steady as he hammered bullets into center mass. His target crumpled.

    He did another reload, taking his time to slot the half-empty mag rather than dropping it in his dump pouch, and came out again to scan the area. The catsuited girl¡¯s lifeless eyes stared up at him, but it didn¡¯t bother him. Blaine had seen real death often enough to know the difference. This was too clean, too tidy, the blood splattered exactly the way you¡¯d expect it to. Not real. He let out a slow breath as relief flooded his body. This had been his first concern, that he might trigger or something¡­ but it was just pixels and code. This he could do.

    Now his training was kicking in once more. Silence, violence, silence. Time to get the fuck out of here before someone else tried to join the party. He ran down the corridor and decided that a shoe store was a better hiding place. This place looked just as rough as the jewelry store had been, but there was more evidence of looting here. Boxes were open and empty everywhere. Scrambling over a counter he flopped down, noticing absently that he wasn''t panting as hard as he should have been. Endurance must scale more heavily by your load, he decided.

    He reloaded his mags while he sat there, listening hard for more sounds. A gun battle raged on the other side of the mall. Echoes distorted the details, he wasn''t sure how many were involved or how far away they might be. Well, there was nothing to be gained by pushing. Noise carried too far in this place. He was more likely to walk into an ambush than not.

    Unfortunately the red wall had other ideas for him. He almost missed it, the faint humming sound only growing audible when it was within a few feet. Cursing aloud he scrambled up and over the counter. The entrance to the shoe store was already blocked. He was trapped.

    The glass wall ahead of him might be breakable. He turned on his speed and ran at it, dropping his shoulder and tucking his head at the last moment. Wham. He bounced off, swore, and tried again with no better luck. His left shoulder burned with the impact, punishing him for his low endurance score already. Swearing again, Blaine considered. Noise was a very dangerous enemy anywhere, especially on this fucking map. Nothing for it. Better to be alive and inconvenienced than dead. Katya barked three times and the glass splintered into a spiderweb of cracks, shattering more spectacularly when he slammed his boot through.

    He''d gotten out just in time, but his position was compromised. The heavy boots he''d spent so long picking out clomped as he dashed across the corridor. Three storefronts down a new corridor opened up and he skidded on the slick surface as he rounded it, eyes scanning for somewhere new to hide and regroup.

    He didn''t make it that far. Something hit him once in the chest and he felt his body ragdoll as he rolled across the ground.

    Match over.

    When the darkness withdrew he was back in a small lounge area just off the main lobby. The two people he''d killed were already there, sitting and watching the rest of the match play out over monitors. The girl in the catsuit gave him a short nod. "Not bad there," she said, thumbing shells into her magazines, "but you were lucky I didn''t shoot through the glass myself."

    Blaine shrugged, settling down and pulling out his own box of ammo. "Call it an educated guess."

    "Hey now, I would have had you both!" the other man protested. His hair was cut like the boy-bands from Japan, all tufty and asymetrical. "I would have gotten you if he hadn''t turned on me. I didn''t think you''d both team up like that."

    "Well, duh," the girl rolled her eyes. "You don''t third party by running straight at us. You find cover, you line up your shots. You play like a console twitcher. In this game you win with shot placement and cover, not speed and dropshots."

    "She''s right," Blaine said before the guy could argue. "I shot at you because you were wide open. She was in cover, I took what I was given."

    Frustrated, Anime Hair stood up and headed for the main lobby. "I''m not an endurance build, I''m speed! The whole point is to run, right? The endurance guys sit there to shoot."

    "That''s in squad play," the girl jabbed her magazine to emphasize her point. "When capturing objectives and flanking become important. Even then you don''t want to shoot on the run. You''ll just waste ammo."

    "Whatever," Anime Hair stomped off.

    "Dumbass," Catsuit muttered.

    Blaine tuned her out, his eyes on the monitors. A four-way gun battle was currently raging in the food court. People were popping up out of cover, blazing wildly away, and dropping back to reload. No one had much in the way of spare ammo. Only one player was pacing himself, staying low and only taking clear shots. It was obvious who would win.

    No point in sticking around now, he might as well head out. Rising, he headed out into the main hall and headed for the desk to reqeue.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Congratulations!" the receptionist cheered, doing an outdated dance behind her desk when he approached. Confused, he glanced around. No one behind him, what was she on about?

    "You got two kills!" she clarified with a grin. "In Deathmatches, that''s quite an achievement! Your prize money is already in your account. Good job!"

    Intriguing. The next match could wait. Blaine plucked a pamphlet from her desk and peered at the payout table.

    <hr>

    Competition money and you

    Winning a Team Match = 2000c

    Winning a Death Match = 10,000c

    Ranked Match Kills = 100 x Battle Rank x Weapon Multiplier

    Bronze x1, Silver x2, Gold x4, Platinum x6, Diamond x10, Tungsten x20

    Explosives x1 Rifles x1, SMGs x1.25 Pistols x2 Melee x10

    Casual Match Kills = 100 x Weapon Multiplier

    Team Killing = -1000c and -10 Player Score

    <hr>

    He did some quick mental math. This looked like a haul of 400c. Not bad at all. It easily covered his expenses for the day, with plenty left over to invest in upgrades. And with players as green as Anime Hair here at low ranks Blaine felt confident he''d be earning steady money.

    Spoiling Katya didn''t seem so out of reach.

    "I need a knife," he muttered aloud as he considered his next purchases. It seemed any chance he might get to take someone down in melee would be worth it. Running another match was still tempting, but at this point he owed Katya a treat. The mall wasn''t too far away. She seemed to really like the electrical tape, but some sort of acknowledgement was in order.

    "Katya?" he patted the pistol as he headed towards the doors.

    The weapon faded from her holster and reappeared beside him. She was smiling, green eyes merry and bright, her skin flushed with excitement. "That was really great!" she exclaimed as she tucked herself under his arm.

    "It really was," Blaine pulled her close and shortened his steps for her sake. "This game is amazing. I can''t imagine why more people aren''t playing it."

    "Well, you handled yourself better than most," she said proudly. "Most first-time players are a nervous wreck after their first match. Adrenaline and heart rates red-line, and the game ejects them for their own safety."

    He snorted derisively. "Really?"

    She nodded gravely. "But you... you were calm. Even when you were scrambling about, your nerves were steady. You''re going to be great at this game I can tell."

    Her words made him smile. "We''ll see. But I couldn''t do it alone, you were amazing too. Come on, let''s get a drink."

    Katya giggled. "Oh, I''m just the tool," she said as they crossed the street and turned towards a series of neon signs. "You''re the hand that guides me."

    "I aim with my eye," Blaine quoted, "And kill with my heart."

    "That''s a good one," she agreed as they passed a karaoke bar. Off-key warbling leaked out when someone exited, so he kept them moving. If he wanted to hear Elton John mangled he''d do it himself in the shower.

    The next establishment was more interesting. Its grungy cyberpunk aesthetic oozed relaxed lounge atmosphere. He took her in and was gratified to find there wasn''t a dance floor. People sat at small tables or lounged in booths, the music was throbbing and intense but also quiet. Katya''s electrical tape fit right in with the neon hair and florescent tattoos on display. He even saw a couple of implants--fake arms and legs. One person had replaced their eyes. He glanced at Katya, and she anticipated his question. "Those are purely cosmetic. They don''t give you any kind of advantage in the game. Some people like tattoos, some people like chrome."

    "And some people just like good liquor," someone interrupted cheerfully. "What can I get for you two?"

    Blaine looked up to see the bartender, a stocky but handsome man, his head shaved to show off cranial implants. He tossed a rag over his shoulder and leaned across the bar. "What can I get for you two?"

    "I''ll just have..." Blaine hesitated. "A sampler of craft beers for me, and something sweet for Katya?"

    "You got it," the bartender said, laying out a sampler tray and producing a stack of glasses. "But first I''ll have to see some IDs."

    Blaine froze as his hand failed to find his wallet. Too late, he remembered he didn''t have a wallet in-game, and certainly no ID to put in it. Katya and the bartender started laughing together. "I''m just messing with you," the man said, chuckling as he started hitting taps. "I do that to all the new Meisters. You guys fall for it every time."

    Blaine shook his head ruefully and slid onto a stool. "It figures. I haven''t been carded in a long time, but old habits. They did check my ID before they let me register the dive helmet, so I guess that carries over?"

    "In this game? Yeah, can''t log in unless your age checks out," the bartender began lining up the samples. "We''ve got every drink you can order, the only thing that changes from bar to bar is the aesthetic. Some people like to float around, most prefer a favorite. Humans need their habits I suppose. Makes it feel more real for everyone."

    "Makes sense," Blaine watched the drinks pour. "I''m not a mixed drinks kind of guy. You know what you like, Katya?"

    Her green eyes turned thoughtful as she scanned the bottles. "Ummm... actually, I''ve only had wine before."

    "I would think you already knew everything you liked? Like... you could just jack in and sample a bit of everything." Now that he thought about it, how...

    "Each gun has randomized preferences," Katya explained as she touched his thigh hesitantly. He shifted his leg to encourage the gesture and she gave him a loving squeeze. "Those aren''t files we can read. We have to find out what we like just like humans, by trial and error. The experiences are good for us to build our personalities."

    That made sense. "When I was a kid I mistook an olive for a grape. Ever since I''ve hated olives. Would that be something that would affect you?"

    "Oh, I would never mistake an olive for a grape," she assured him. "I can still read and identify what objects are. I just don''t know if I''d like them."

    "What if I covered your eyes or something?" Now Blaine was really curious. He sipped the first beer in the sampler and grimaced. Way too hoppy. IPA people were weird. The bartender smirked at his reaction.

    "That would... be interesting," Katya took her margarita and sipped it cautiously, her eyes brightening with pleasure. "Oh, I do like this!"

    "We''ll have to test it out sometime," Blaine could already imagine several ways he could play with a blindfolded Katya. "Your previous Meisters didn''t buy you drinks?"

    "One of them was a wine connoisseur," Katya licked a bit of salt from the edge of her cup. "I tried several wines. I couldn''t really appreciate the subtle differences in some of them. But I know one of my batch sisters turned out to be a whiskey drinker. The sort who swirls the glass and talks about barrel aging. Me, I just like sweet fun."

    "You are sweet fun," Blaine leaned in to kiss her briefly, tasting the tequila in her mouth.

    She blushed, her fair skin turning pink. She stayed flushed as she worked her way through the margarita, talking a little faster and louder now as she explained some of the minutia of her artificial nature. Blaine let her ramble. Once she started using words like ''quantum'' he knew he wasn''t going to understand. He worked his way through a nice dark beer, reaching a nice buzz before too long. Which brought up another question. "So does this mean you can get drunk?" he asked when she paused for another sip.

    ¡°I can, if I choose to,¡± her smile was coquettish. ¡°Alcohol loosens up the probability trees. When I am considering my options, alcohol tilts the balance towards choices that are more aggressive, more confident. I have alcohol tolerances appropriate for a woman of my size, so a few more of these and I will be very drunk." She gave him a wink. "None of the unpleasant side effects like hangovers. Mostly, ummm¡­¡± her teeth fretted her lower lip in a gesture he was growing to love, ¡°well, it gets me sort of wound up...¡±

    ¡°Katya, I¡¯ve never know you not to be wound up," Blaine chuckled, his fingers stroking over the back of her hand. "When was the last time you weren¡¯t in the mood?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it doesn¡¯t change that!¡± the blonde laughed softly. ¡°But I get all hot and bothered like when you tease me. And if I don¡¯t get some special time with my meister it can be a little frustrating to cool off again alone. So I don¡¯t usually drink unless I¡¯m confident you¡¯re going to take me in a... manly fashion later.¡±

    ¡°I can promise you that,¡± Blaine said without hesitation, and it was odd how confident his tone was. He didn¡¯t like making promises. They were usually traps¨Ccommitments people could hold over your head. But there was something in Katya¡¯s eyes¡­ her trust was a fragile thing, he remembered. She needed to hear him say it. She needed to see him do it. And she needed that experience, over and over again.

    She was a good gun. And a good girl.

    Tossing back the last of his drink he rose and took her by the hand. ¡°Come on. Before you drink too many of those. We¡¯ve got somewhere to be.¡±

    Two ranked matches and three or four unranked later, he¡¯d built his credit balance back up. He was now sitting comfortably with almost twenty kills to his credit, a Bronze Two ranking, and a greater appreciation of the game¡¯s attention to detail. Damn, he was having a blast. Other platforms didn¡¯t have weapon malfunctions and regular cleaning. He¡¯d never literally curbstomped someone before. And Katya''s special attention between matches? Absolutely heavenly.

    ¡°Before I log out I want to take you shopping,¡± he told Katya as they exited the competition center, the warm glow of neon signs washing over them once more. ¡°You did so well today. I want to give you a proper reward. We¡¯ve got about five thousand credits in the account, let¡¯s find you something scandalous to wear.¡±

    "Ooo scandalous?" her green eyes sparkled up at him as she loosened her high ponytail and let her hair down again.

    "Something that shows I value you," he said. "I like showing off my treasures."

    Katya''s giggle was mischivous. "Oh Meister... you do know how to spoil your girl."

    When they got to the used apparel shop though, she separated from him and darted straight to the lingerie section. Blaine felt his eyebrow rise. It seemed that their roles had been established already. She would decide how to dress for him, and he''d decide how she''d dress for everyone else... That was quite respectful of her. All right, Katya, let''s see if I can''t dress you. He didn''t know much about women''s fashion, so he started simple by swiping through the pants first. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing... oh, tiger-stripe, my favorite camo. He found himself grinning as he imagined Katya''s slender body in them. Add some sleek black boots... fingerless gloves... and on the next rack, a cheap black tank top. He tossed a tiger-stripe patrol cap onto the pile for good measure. It wasn''t fancy, but it was good working clothes and once he found his own tiger-stripes she''d match him.

    Satisfied with these casual selections he went another rack over in search of formal wear. In his short time he¡¯d seen almost no evidence of higher society, no balls or galas or ballets, but he didn¡¯t want to be caught unprepared. His eyes scanned over the racks. A pine-green dress caught his eye right away. It sparkled with silver threads woven into the fabric and when he pulled it from the rack he saw the plunging neckline and grinned again. Very elegant, and undeniably sexy. He added it to the pile, snagged some Grecian-style sandals, and looked around.

    A quick peek told him Katya was piling up the lacy unmentionables like she was stocking a boutique. Blaine sighed. He ''d better cut this short before they went over budget, he still needed to find a knife too. He whistled softly and Katya''s head shot around. She broke off her shopping at once and came trotting up to meet him at the counter, plopping her haul down proudly. The clerk was a bland, professional NPC. If he had the same programming as Katya or the bartender he hid it well. The soft mint-green bra he picked up made Blaine smile. He''d had the same idea, bringing out the color of her eyes with color.

    The next items from her pile were a bit more exotic¡­ this garment didn''t seem functional. At all. He peered at it. ¡°Is it¡­ which way up does it go?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where the head is supposed to be,¡± Katya giggled as she took the garment and flipped it around. She held it up to herself, showing off the web of black straps and crisscrossing ribbons that would barely conceal her curves. ¡°See? All strappy? It reminds me of your electrical tape.¡±

    It was kinky, Blaine thought. If she liked straps she probably liked cuffs¡­ He shoke his head to refocus on the next item. This seemed incongruous, a simple white apron. ¡°What is this supposed to go with?¡±

    ¡°It goes with me, of course,¡± Katya purred, leaning into him. Her fingers lightly clawed at his chest as her breath tickled his ear. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine I¡¯d need anything else do you?¡±

    ¡°Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,¡± he groaned as he got it.

    ¡°I can cook for you," she teased, pressing her leg against his. "Clean up the house while you''re offline. Every Meister needs a maid to take care of things when he''s gone..." she turned around and leaned back against his chest. "Don''t you think it would be appropriate?"

    Blaine''s brain short-circuited. All he could think of was finding her bent over a task, wearing nothing but that apron, that pretty ass just begging for her Meister''s attention. His blood roared in his ears and he shoved the rest of the items at the clerk without hesitation. While the total climbed and his wallet wept, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. Her eyes widened, but then her lips parted eagerly as he leaned down to kiss her from above. Her back arched, her ass pressing back into his hips, and she eagerly returned the kiss, her fingers rising to clutch at his face. The cashier said something, a rather large number, and Blaine let go of Katya¡¯s hair to slap his palm on the transaction terminal. She was moaning into the kiss, devouring him with a frantic energy that he¡¯d learned to expect from the anxious blonde. He couldn''t betray that. He broke their kiss at last, leaving her panting, her eyes glazed with lust.

    "Come on," he muttered, scooping up their bags. "Let''s get you dressed before I take you back to the hotel. There''s changing rooms back there I think."

    She tried to pout at him but it dissolved into a giggle. Snatching the bag from his hand she scampered off towards the changing rooms. He followed, settling down on a chair. The wait stretched just long enough for him to start second-guessing himself. Would she like his selections? They were pretty basic... he ran his hand through his hair, frowning. It wasn''t like there was a lot to choose from in a secondhand shop. He found himself rehearsing excuses for why he hadn''t done well enough for her. Next time they''d go to a more expensive place. They''d take more time. He''d have a bigger budget. He''d do better.

    The door clicked open and when Katya stepped out Blaine forgot every excuse or worry.

    She¡¯d put on the tiger-stripe fatigues and boots as he''d expected but the tank top... well, there wasn''t much left of it. She''d torn away the lower half, leaving just enough to cover her nipples. The soft curve of her underboobs were on full display. With a little creativity she''d taken a simple utilitarian garment and made it outrageously provocative.

    The tank top was so distracting that he almost missed the high-rise thong that rose from the waistband of the pants, arching over her hips and disappearing in the back in a classic Whale Tail. Sexy as fuck. Fire kindled in his chest, a faint growl rumbling in his throat as he drank her in.

    Katya spun slowly about, raising her arms to ruffle her hair and tease him with the tank lifting just a bit further. She cocked her hip and gave him a sultry, knowing look. But when words failed him her confidence faltered. Her smile dimmed, and she quickly averted her gaze.

    "I''m sorry if you don''t like it," she said hastily, hands rising to cover herself. "The electric tape gave me the idea, I can change though if you..."

    "Katya. Stop."

    She blinked in suprise, her apology cut short. He joined her in two long strides, turning her by her shoulder to face the mirror. Her green eyes met his in the glass, wide and nervous as he pulled her close to him where she belonged. "You look amazing," he said, the words a growl in his throat, and she went entirely still. His hands slid down her arms and skimmed her toned belly. Her breath caught as his thumb trailed just below the torn fabric.

    "You did this for me, and I love it." he whispered into her ear.

    She shivered, and reached behind to grab for him, her fingers desperate to feel him there. "Yes..."

    "I love it," he continued. "It takes my breath away. My good girl, my Katya."

    The tension melted out of her and she leaned back into him, unashamed of this lustful display. "Blaine..." she pleaded.

    "I know," he let her go and picked up the bags. "We''re skipping the blade shop and going back to the hotel."

    She clutched at his hand, glowing with delight and anticipation.

 Chapter 4: Griefers

    "Okay guys, here''s the deal," the man was annoyingly casual as he stood in the pre-match lobby, arms folded. What was he doing in Bronze 2, still wearing the starting grays? In fact, he seemed utterly default. His features were completely generic compared to the baby-faces that were popular or Blaine''s own aggressive, chiseled look. Lookign around, Blaine felt his stomach tighten as he realized that three of the seven players in the match had this same uniform absence of style. That wasn''t ominous at all.

    They might look like generic NPCs and dress like newbies, but Blaine was certain they weren''t new players. The way they stood, confident and relaxed... he''d seen it before. These guys were old hands in a young player''s rank.

    He refocused in time to catch the explaination. "So usually people bitch about smurfs, right? How we ruin matches for people? Well, we got tired of remaking our characters after reports, so we decided to try something different. Bribery." The man looked around the lobby and let that hang. "A thousand credits each. You leave the guns in the holsters, no fuss, no muss, no bother. Everyone comes out ahead."

    Blaine frowned and shifted his own stance so he could put his hand on Katya''s grip. He didn''t quite understand the situation yet, but he could already tell he didn''t like the smirking entitlement, the assumption that he could be bought and sold. He scanned the other players. A wiry guy with a red mohawk looked nervous, fidgeting with his gun belt. A girl with neon-green hair just looked frustrated. One big brute just folded his arms. No one was willing to meet the smurf''s eyes.

    "This is Tomaz," the smurf continued, gesturing to a lean, Hispanic man who sized them all up like a butcher choosing hogs. "He''s ranking up today. You''re going to help him. Just let him knife you and it''s worth a thousand credits. I know this is one of your ranked matches, but don''t worry, it''s worth it. I mean, you can''t take all of us in a team anyway, might as well get paid right?"

    "Ahhh," Katya murmured into his mind. "This is a clan powerleveling a new player to their level. He won''t earn the rank, and his skills will be subpar, but he''ll be able to fill a niche in their team."

    That was... sort of bullshit. This meant that this Tommy kid would end up Gold or better without earning it.... he''d have a whole harem of guns without even earning them. Scowling, Blaine let anger crackle in his response. "What if we say no?"

    The speaker rolled his eyes. "Well, we just kill you. It''s a deathmatch, but we''ll be working as a team so you don''t really get a third option. It''s either die broke or die rich. You all want to get something out of it, right?"

    The other players were starting to nod. Blaine felt disgust rising in his chest. How bovine did you have to be in order to agree to go along with this idea? Like cattle to the slaughter, butchered to feed some idiot¡­

    "So, we''ll start the match, nobody shoots anyone," the leader cut in on Blaine¡¯s thoughts. "We''ll all meet in the middle of the match. I''ll be shooting into the air so you know where to come."

    The last member of this group had been standing just outside of the lobby during this conversation. He stepped inside, and the world dissolved.

    Match Starting.

    A big box store full of grime and decay. The shelves were mostly bare, as if looters had come and gone several times. Blaine stood by denuded chest-style freezers. He drew Katya and chamber-checked.

    "What do you think?" he murmured.

    "You''ll lose ranking points, but those can be made up tomorrow," she said neutrally. "It''s not fair I know. You''re good, you can handle yourself in a fair deathmatch, but there''s four of them. And they''re experienced."

    "It''s just... degrading," he said, reholstering the FNX. A gun popped twice and he started that direction. "You know it is. It''s cheating. You should earn your harem and your bragging rights here. Why doesn''t he get into a sex sim if he just wants pussy?"

    "He''s probably interested in the Avatar 2.0 NPCs," Katya suggested. "Unlike Star Nova, we''ve got fairly limited autonomy when it comes to how we engage with meisters. Our priorities are very clear, our meister''s pleasure comes first. While we can choose to ignore that instinct, it''s unpleasant. Like forgoing your dessert to eat extra food you don''t like."

    That made sense. "He just wants the most realistic love-slaves he can get."

    "That, and he wants to play with his friends," Katya suggested as Blaine found the source of the sporadic gunshots. The customer service desk already had several players, all eyeing each other warily as if half-expecting things to deteriorate. There were two members of the Smurf team already there. One was reloading his 1911, the other was watching the randoms with a glock in his hand. If anyone drew, nobody was guaranteed even a kill in such close quarters.

    "There he is!" Tommy said, emerging from behind the counter. "Okay, guys, line up, we''ll do this quick."

    "I''ll go first," Blaine said aloud. The anger that had been sizzling in his chest was cool now, hot metal quenched in determination. He walked forward. Tommy grinned as he produced a bowie knife from behind his back. His lips moved, he was starting to speak, but that was suddenly very irrelevant.

    Knives were terrifying the first time you faced them down. But this wasn''t a strung out Marine in his barracks, just a punk kid. Tommy faltered as he made eye contact. The knife wavered, and Blaine pounced. The glock barked but missed him. Fire ran down his wrist as he slapped aside the knife. Old martial arts training kicked in as he slipped a flailing arm, his boot driving into Tommy''s knee. The scuffle was over almost as soon as it had begun.

    "Drop the gun!" Glock yelled, trying to aim at Blaine, who ducked his head behind Tommy. "Drop it! What are you doing, man?"

    "It''s just a game, boys," Blaine said, grinning from behind his victim. His arm was locked firmly around Tommy''s neck, and Katya was screwed into the kid''s temple. "Just a game, right? Just take the loss."Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Tommy squirmed. One of the other randoms reached for his gun. The smurf with the 1911 turned to point at him, so Blaine shot him first. Katya barked twice, and the smurf''s head snapped around like a tetherball. His aim transitioned and Blaine let his instincts take over, stroking Katya''s trigger each time the front sight settled onto another face. At this range he could hardly miss.

    Bang, bang, bang, two randoms down. Glock Smurf was shouting something unimportant. The third random, that huge Tank build, spun in place with his jaw shot away and came up with his own gun, a massive revolver. Tommy''s wild slash with the Bowie knife laid open Blaine''s cheek, but the young man''s attack was cut short by a roar from that hand cannon, his body jerking to the side. The massive .44 round blew right through his rib cage, side to side, and Blaine felt his body jerk as it winged him. Snarling through the pain he exchanged shots with Glock Smurf, dragging Tommy''s corpse backwards as he sought for cover. That big revolver came up again and Blaine abandoned his shield to scramble for the big customer service counter. Everyone still alive was doing the same thing, dropping fire and seeking cover. Blaine ended up behind the counter first, and shot Random Tank again as the big man tried to pursue him. The huge warrior dropped to one knee, but struggled up again. Damn, respect, man. Blaine emptied the rest of his magazine into the stubborn bastard''s chest. He sagged to the floor at last, and Blaine dropped back into cover.

    Total time elapsed could be counted in heartbeats and hot lead. Three randoms, Tommy, and two smurfs were dead. That left Blaine and two enemies. Those odds were much better. He''d just doubled his chances for surviving this.

    "Dude, what the FUCK!" someone shouted. "Like, what the FUCK man?"

    "Kill that asshole!" the other shouted. "Fucking jackass!"

    The customer service area was recessed, walls narrowing his field of vision. The two smurfs were somewhere out of his line of sight, lurking like wolves. Their mission had failed, he thought in grim satisfaction as he slapped a fresh magazine into Katya. "Come get me!" he roared, his challenge echoing from bare walls and concrete floors. "Come on! Come get this!"

    Not exactly Homer, but his blood was up and he had never been a poetic man.

    A few murmurs. He could imagine the questions. Did you hit him? I don''t think I got him. Maybe it was the random. Yeah, he can''t be high endurance, he''s one hit easy.

    His mind raced. Could he take them both? Realistically, no. He could only shoot in one direction at a time, and he no longer had surprise on his side. Did he want to die backed into a corner? Also no. If he was going to die, he was going to make the highlight reel on his own terms. So he stood up out of cover, threw the horns with his left hand, and laughed manaically through his ruined mouth as he blazed away. The smurfs came around opposite corners. He shifted aim but rounds crashed into his chest and he died before he hit the floor.

    Fucking righteous.

    Match Complete.

    "You fucking newbie!" someone screamed as he stepped into the lobby, and he felt hands slam into his chest. "You stupid screwhead, you piece of shit what the fuck is your problem?"

    The wall crashed into his shoulders hard enough to rattle his teeth. Blaine struck out at the maddened face furiously, landing awkwardly few ineffective shots. With a snickt his knife snapped open. He hadn''t even thought about drawing it. His reflexes were returning, every nerve singing with adrenaline. The steel sang through the air as Blaine lashed out. His strikes were blocked by frantic hands. The pressure came off his chest and he dropped into a fighting crouch. Glock Smurf was forcing his way between them. A bikini-clad woman was fragging Tommy back, probably his gun holding him back. Blaine made to go after the angry man, but Glock Smurf blocked him again, hands raised in guard, weight low. Blaine grinned as their eyes met. He transitioned to an icepick grip, and the smurf''s hands clenched in anticipation.

    "Don''t!" several voices screamed at once. There was more yelling, and now Katya''s own small hands had a vise grip on his knife arm. She was trembling. That was strange. He was fine, his heart rate steady even as he stepped forward to put her behind him. Glock Smurf seemed a bit more reasonable than Tommy, but Blaine didn''t feel very trusting right then. Icy rage was flooding his veins.

    "Who do you think you are?" He snarled at these thugs. Katya was trying to hold him back still but he transitioned the knife to his left hand and tried to shake her off.

    She clung on, her nails biting into his forearm. "Blaine!" Her voice cracked with fear. "Please! No!"

    Her tone was an icy knife that cut through his fury. He froze, and she hastened to continue. "You''ll get suspended if you fight outside of matches! Please, it''s not worth it!"

    He forced himself to take a deep breath. Carving a Columbian necktie into Tommy might be satisfying, but a ban would leave Katya alone. He couldn''t just abandon her, even temporarily. His jaw clenched but he lifted the knife and made a show of folding it.

    Glock Smurf nodded as he pocketed the weapon but Tommy had to mouth off. "Yeah," he shouted, finally shaking loose of his gun. "You''d better get out of here. Fucking pendejo."

    "Get your boy under control," Blaine growled.

    "Can''t fight outside of matches," the Glock Smurf said reluctantly. "We don''t need him getting banned either."

    "Not much loss. The fuck''s wrong with you? I''m just trying to play the game!"

    "Get over it," Glock Smurf snapped. "The clan needs a new sniper, this is part of the process."

    "Blaine..." Katya moaned. "Please... please stop!"

    "Yeah, listen to your gun," Tommy straightened his shirt out. "Maybe in a year or two you''ll catch up and we can do this again in Tungsten."

    Blaine bit his tongue and watched as the young man swaggered for the door. Glock Smurf sighed and followed, leaving them alone in the lobby.

    "Fuck," Blaine sighed as his icy control threatened to crack.

    Katya rushed into his arms and he held her tightly, burying his nose in her hair. "Blaine... don''t ever do that to me again!" she whispered, bracing small fists on his chest. "You can''t leave me!"

    His arms wrapped about her shoulders and he felt his body relax at last, the ice thawing out.

    "You didn''t have to shoot me, you know," someone rumbled behind him. Blaine felt his shoulders tense, his fingers tightening on Katya''s arm, but this person didn''t sound like a threat.

    He continued when Blaine didn''t answer. "I didn''t like that shit either. You all right, man?"

    Reluctantly, Blaine looked back over his shoulder. It was the big guy with the .44 Magnum, his arms folded, weapon holstered. "Yeah, I''m fine," he said, trying to sound polite. He really thought they''d been left alone. Katya made a small hiccuping noise and buried her face in his chest before she stepped back, eyes clear. She gave him a small nod of assurance.

    "But for the record," Blaine turned his full attention to the giant, "you shot me first."

    "Wasn''t trying to hit you. Tommy had that bowie knife still. I was trying to disable his hand."

    "Yeah, all right," Blaine conceded. "What''s your name?"

    "Troy."

    "I''m Blaine."

    "It''s a pleasure," Troy scratched his chin, nails rasping on action-hero stubble. He shifted his weight, moving more like a heavyweight fighter than a bodybuilder. Blaine could see the spikes and whirls of a tattoo curling around a bicep. The guy looked like a retro action figure, but his eyes were sharp and his gestures precise. "Well Blaine, it''s poor form to team up in a free-for-all, want to run a team match together? Randoms always suck at this level, but one guy in your corner could make a difference."

    "That depends," Blaine indicated the huge revolver with a flick of his finger. "Can you resist the urge to shoot me again?"

    "I make no promises," Troy chuckled. "It might be hilarious."

    Blaine snorted and glanced down at Katya. "How are you feeling?"

    "Better," she gave him a smile. "Another match sounds wonderful, actually. Maybe you can work out some of this tension."

    "Yeah, okay," he jerked his head towards the distant receptionist''s desk. "Let''s go queue."

 Chapter 5: Meet the Uzi

    The tiki-style bar was a riot of sound and color, with a few glowing neon signs and the faint sound of steel drums playing in the background. Blaine took a sip of cold beer and sighed. He felt much better now. Across the table Troy tipped back his own drink. They hadn''t won the match, but the kills had been gratifying and team dynamics in the game were interesting.

    "Since the devs don''t want to draw the attention of Cyber Rights activists they''ve done all they can to make the NPC experience a fulfilling one," Katya was explaining as she snuggled up under Blaine''s arm. "We''ve been given the option to work as vendors, for example, in the shops and bars and restaurants. It''s good for our development and keeps us from wasting away while waiting for our meisters. And since we earn a paycheck we''re allowed to enhance our experience with luxuries just like players in the Real World."

    "Can I have you go to work while I''m offline?" Two incomes would be quite nice.

    "I''m afraid not," she sat up to look at him, pride sparkling in her eyes. "But I don''t need to. Slinging drinks in a bar is nothing compared to taking care of my Meister."

    "It''s our true calling," Troy''s Colt Python had turned out to be a dainty little Japanese woman he''d named Saori. She was snuggled down in Troy''s lap, dressed in a student''s uniform. "It''s not as much fun to buy snacks and drinks if there''s no one to share them with."

    Troy eyed her empty glass and she giggled innocently. "What? You said I could treat myself!"

    He raised a hand to flag down their waitress. "Ahhh you''re lucky you''re so wonderful."

    "You''re lucky I''m so wonderful," Saori countered, popping another bar nut into her mouth.

    Blaine studied the waitress as she took Troy''s order, trying to guess what sort of weapon she might be. Naturally tan, soft brown hair pulled back in a messy tail. Middle Eastern, maybe? Her features were soft, and her eyes were intense hazel that shone as she looked at him. "Another beer for you? And another Royal Flush for the Lady?"

    "One more... but no more, no matter how much she begs," Blaine patted Katya''s shoulder and she giggled. The server didn''t have a name tag on her bikini top. Would it have had a random name? A gun type? A serial number? She tilted her head to the side, smirking, and he realized she thought he was ogling her breasts. "Sorry, I was just... wondering what kind of gun you are."

    "Sure you were," the smirk broadened into a teasing grin. "Couldn''t you guess the caliber?"

    She was giving him a straight line, but Blaine didn''t want to be too vulgar. He decided to play it safe and made a cupping motion with both hands. "Proportional?" he guessed.

    Troy choked on his drink, and Katya elbowed him in the ribs. "I''m an SMG," the waitress chuckled. "An Uzi submachine gun chambered in 9mm. I know, it''s an older design, but the movies make it popular. There''s a lot of competition in this category but I''m hopeful I won''t have to wait much longer for my first contract."

    "I would have guessed at least .45," Blaine said, running his fingers over Katya''s shoulder. She purred and nuzzled into his hand. "Is there a conversion kit?"

    "The option is there but if you know what you''re doing then you don''t need it," the Uzi made a sexy little hip roll, daring him to disagree.

    "Are you a micro?" Troy asked. "I''m a tank, I need a machine pistol when I level up to silver. If you''re still available..."

    "Oh, you''re sweet," the server said before he could commit himself further. "But I''m not a pistol. Even if you give me a shorter barrel I''m still way bigger than the Mini or Micro versions. I was designed for two-handed use in urban warfare."

    "Ahhh," Troy sounded disappointed. Maybe he had a thing for Mediterranean women. "Sorry, my bad. I need a machine pistol. If you like I could introduce you to my clan''s sniper, she could always use a good sub gun."

    As the Uzi sauntered away Troy shook his head and smirked, cutting his eyes at Blaine. "You know, you''re a flanker build. Never too early to start thinking about your next contract."

    Blaine hesitated, glancing at Katya, but she didn''t seem bothered by the conversation at all. "He''s right," she agreed, watching the Uzi bending over the next table. "A gun like her would be very useful once you hit Silver rank. SMGs are popular with scouts and flankers."

    "Mmm, you could go scout," Troy mused. "I think it''s boring. You run a sniper rifle or DMR and you sort of do your own thing."

    "I had enough of regular fire team work already," Blaine admitted. "It would be nice to try something new. What other roles are there?"

    "You were already playing as a flanker last match," Troy gestured with his beer. "Running around me, picking them off."

    "And then there''s Heavy Support, which you''re not built for," Katya squeezed his thigh apologetically. "You need higher strength and endurance. You carry heavy machine guns, or mortar systems."

    "Oh shit, this game has mortars?" Blaine hadn''t even thought of support by fire.

    "Yes, they were added a couple of patches ago. But it''s very niche, most players don''t bother once they learn how complicated it is. That''s a Platinum or Tungsten level role usually."

    Blaine grunted. "So really I only have a couple of options don''t I?"

    "Yeah, unfortunately," Troy sighed. "Did you dump endurance or speed?"

    "Endurance."

    "Then yeah. Scout sniper or Flanker is your best bet. Either way, you''ll want a good SMG."

    Blaine looked back over at the Uzi. She was cute in a foxy sort of way. Katya followed his gaze and gave his thigh an encouraging squeeze.

    "If you want to try sniping you should talk to my sister," Troy suggested. "She''s pretty good at it. I know this game isn''t quite like real world stuff, so she could explain the role better. She runs the Wolfguard clan. Their tank quit so she talked me into joining as his replacement. Didn''t warn me about all the sex."

    "Bet you didn''t complain though."

    "Nope!" Troy laughed aloud. "It was a good surprise. Can''t believe she didn''t get me into the game sooner. Anyway, I''m meeting them at their clan hall in half an hour so they can invite me. I''ll run pistol matches with you anytime though. You have a cell phone?"

    Blaine dug it out and Troy gave him his contact information. "We''re in game every Friday and Saturday night for sure. Alex has work during the week. We''re casual, no tryhards."

    "I had enough tryharding to last me the rest of my life. You trying to recruit me?"

    "You can never have too many friends," Troy said firmly. "And I like your style. I''ll introduce you all sometime when I''m no longer the new guy."

    The waitress came back with their drinks. Blaine noticed with some amusement that there was lipstick on the rim of his glass.

    "So what do I call you?" he asked the waitress as he sipped his beer. "I don''t think ''that Uzi with the pretty eyes'' would fit on a name tag."

    "I haven''t been named yet," she flicked her hair back. "But my ID number is 1000034557. My friends call me 557."

    "557 works for me," Blaine grinned. "But I''d rather give you a proper name."

    The Uzi bit her lip, lowering her eyes coyly. "Find me when you hit Silver and you can call me anything you like."

    "Don''t tease her," Katya chided gently. "Not if you don''t intend to contract with her. Being contracted is very important, and it''s not the fun kind of edging."

    "You say that," Blaine squeezed Katya''s thigh lovingly and it was the blonde''s turn to blush. "Well, 557, I''m going to be a scout or a flanker. Are you usually here?"

    "Most days," the Uzi confirmed. "You can ask Josie at the bar if you don''t see me. But watch out for her, she''s a P90 and she''ll haul you out back herself if she knows you''re looking to contract with a sub gun."Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Blaine had shot P90s before and while they were excellent guns they just didn''t fit him very well. He watched the perky butt saunter away to the next table and glanced at Katya. "You don''t mind sharing, do you?"

    "Not at all," she purred, and her fingers crept up Blaine''s thigh. "She''s cute. And you''ll need a gun like her when you rank up."

    Troy laughed. "You two need a room? There''s a roach motel down the road."

    "I think we just might," Blaine chugged the last of his beer and stood up. "I''ll see you around, man. You playing tomorrow?"

    "Yeah! Save a match for me," Troy clapped Blaine on the shoulder. "Just don''t burn out your trigger finger tonight."

    The shower cut off, hot water sluicing down his shoulders and dribbling from the chair into the drain. Blaine opened the stall and reached for a towel. It wasn''t there. Frowning he peered out through the steam. He didn''t have any clean towels.

    Well, he''d showered yesterday, so the towel hadn''t made it through the wash cycle yet. It was probably still sitting in his hamper.

    Why was he showering twice in two days? It wasn''t like him. Blaine wasn''t a filthy man, but he also wasn''t very active. There was no point in cleaning up every day if he just sat around.

    He was a bit more sensitive to new behavior since he''d started playing Gun Meister a week ago. So far nothing had really changed in his life. But here he was showering whether he needed it or not, just for that fresh feeling.

    Maybe it was the activity levels in the game, leaving him with a post-workout feeling? That sort of made sense. Or maybe he was used to cleaning up for a woman''s company.

    Either way, he had no towels now. Muttering to himself he hoisted himself over to his wheelchair, where he could reach his hand towel by the sink. He used that as best he could, then dug a fresh one out of the drawer and finished with it. He was still damp, but he would survive.

    Now he needed to do laundry. Taking both hand towels he wheeled himself out into his lair. He went ahead and scooped the ''not quite filthy'' pile into the hamper as well before getting dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie.

    Now came the fun part, the reason he didn''t like laundry day. Sighing, he took himself to the door and opened it, wheeling himself out into the hallway.

    "Hi Blaine," Mrs. Humphries said at once. "Laundry day?"

    "Yes ma''am," Blaine said automatically. You''d think an old lady named ''Humphries'' would, well, humph a lot. But his neighbor was always smiling when she saw him. Now she came and grabbed his laundry basket from his lap. "I was heading that way anyway, I can get that for you."

    Normally he''d grumble a thanks and sulk all the way to the washers. But as she shuffled along, chattering about someone playing their music too loud upstairs, he didn''t have it in him to be grumpy. Maybe he was just in a good mood today, or maybe her small act of kindness reminded him of how Katya always looked out for him. What did Mrs. Humphries even do with the rest of her spare time?

    "So how are you doing though?" he asked, surprising even himself. "I mean, when you''re not helping me out. What have you been up to lately?"

    She broke off her monologue about modern music tastes and blinked, a little surprised. "Why me? Well... I''ve been all right. I got a new fern. It wasn''t doing too well when it arrived, someone hadn''t been watering it, but now it''s starting to come back."

    He felt a wave of shame. Sitting around and watching plants grow... no wonder she was always happy to see him. Smiling, he kept asking her about her house plants while they emptied his hamper into a washer/dryer unit and made the long trek back. She was very proud of her plants, it seemed. Ferns were just the beginning. He lingered at his door for a few minutes to finish hearing about a poinsettia that had done something scandalous, then made an excuse about water boiling and shut the door.

    The laundry would be done in an hour, and he didn''t want to log out once he got going in the game, so he killed time by pulling everything out of the closet to find his old box of knives. As a soldier he''d carried a folder everywhere he went, they were always useful, but since coming to live here there wasn''t a real need for them. He picked through the collection to find a clip point SOG Trident and snapped it open.

    The old reflexes were coming back, he noticed, as he flipped from hammer grip to icepick and back. Not that he''d ever need such a thing in real life now, it wasn''t like he was worth mugging, but there was something about shaking off old rust that felt good. The edge on the blade wasn''t all it could be though so he sat with a whetstone and put a new edge on the old blade until it was time to bring in the laundry.

    Then he could get back to the action.

    It wasn''t really a tiki bar since the beach was almost ten miles away, but the ambiance was good and 557 looked great in a bikini top. Blaine leaned back in his booth, arm around Katya, and watched the pretty Uzi moving between tables. This was his third visit now. The cyberpunk bartender had been right¨Croutine was good. He''d had mixed results in his last couple of ranked matches, he was getting a little too aggressive, playing a little too fast, and these Bronze 4 players were all hungry for kills.

    Usually 557 paid more attention to him. Tonight every unregistered gun in the place seemed to be gravitating towards one particular corner booth. He couldn''t see from where he was seated. Maybe the guy was tipping really well? He didn''t resent the hustle, but his beer was getting dangerously low and he didn''t want to walk to the bar just then.

    "I think that''s a newly ranked up player down there," Troy said when he turned to see where the waitresses were. "I''ve heard that the guns can sense when a player has an open contract slot, so they flock around and compete for it."

    Everything else in the game catered to the ego, so it made sense. Blaine nursed the last of his drink and watched as several girls, including 557, took turns posing for whoever was in the booth.

    "I think he''s making them audition," he said.

    "That''s a little rude," Saori peeked up over the top of the booth. "Taking advantage of our natures like that. It''s not like he can contract with more than one of them unless he just hit Diamond."

    "Maybe he''s a returning player whose contracts expired?" Katya suggested. "It''s still a little mean though."

    Curiousity won out, and Blaine slid from the booth to go get a refill and take a peek at this high roller. He went to the bar and set his empty glass down for the bartender, then casually turned to survey the room. A man and a woman he didn''t recognize, dressed as Meisters with holsters and tactical gear... and one familiar face.

    Ahhh shit.

    At the booth he could see that Troy had turned his knees out. The big man was ready to leap out of the booth, but his brow was furrowed. Katya was also leaning forward but her green eyes were wide and her lips parted slightly. Excitement? Fear? He couldn''t tell.

    Tommy glanced over his shoulder at his friends, eyes wide with mischief. "Want to see more? Come here baby." He snapped his fingers and 557 bent obediently forward, her hair falling down over her face, the little bikini top straining to hold her chest in.

    "Let me see what you''ve got," Tommy was reaching for her thigh now. 557 pivoted gracefully and leaned forward again, showing off her ass with a suggestive roll of her hips. She shivered when Tommy''s fingers began to trace up her leg, cheeks darkening. Her fingers crept to her belt and she started loosening the strap with eager fingers.

    Blaine could have looked away. If he really wanted to. But if 557 was willing to accept a contract on these terms then she would be no fit choice for him. The mug clinked down on the bar, harder than he intended. The Uzi''s eyes flickered open and met his. At first she smiled, like she always did when she saw him. Then there was a flicker of self-awareness as she seemed to notice she was actively disrobing. Her blush deepened. Emotions cascaded across her face¨Cconfusion, recognition, and finally shame. She held her shorts closed with one hand and snatched up her tray with the other, her shoulders hunching furtively. As she scurried past he could see her mouth drawn into a thin, angry line. Poor girl.

    "Ay, baby, where are you going?" Tommy''s mocking voice called after her. 557 walked a little faster, avoiding Blaine''s eyes as she headed for the back of the bar.

    "Whatever, puta," Tommy beckoned the next girl into groping range. "Israeli trash."

    "Pinche pendejo," Blaine muttered into his beer. The bartender snorted.

    "What''s that?" Damn, sound carried really well in here. Blaine considered his options, but didn''t feel any need at all to back down.

    "I said, pinche pendejo," he set the mug down to emphasize the words. "In Spanish it means¨C"

    "I know what it means," Tommy growled. But the spell was broken already. As if 557 was the first stone of an avalanche, one by one they turned away from the booth and returned to their work.

    Tommy was fuming. "Hey!" he said, standing up from his booth. "Why don''t you mind your own business?"

    Blaine belched obnoxiously.

    Before the group could decide whether to start anything or not they vanished as quickly and quietly as if he''d blinked them away. What the hell? He looked around and saw his group was still at their booth, watching him.

    "I moved them to another instance," the bartender said shortly. "Start more shit and I''ll ban you myself."

    "I''m sorry about that," Blaine lied. The bartender grunted and made a shooing gesture. Blaine walked back to the table. Katya''s hands shaking. As he slid into the booth she slid onto his lap, pressing her fists against his chest and burying her face in his neck.

    "Thought you were trying to pick a fight," Troy grunted.

    "What would the point be?" Blaine shrugged as he hugged his trembling gun. "Can''t have a fight worth anything. What are we supposed to do, scream at each other? Tickle fight?"

    "The system has a certain amount of damage it allows before it flags a fight," Saori explained. "You could bump shoulders or even wrestle on pads. But you''re right, there wouldn''t be much you could do."

    Katya was still trembling, her knees squeezing his hips tight. Her lips pressed to his neck, hot and loving, but her knuckles ground into his sternum as if she wanted to hit him too. He stroked her hair and let her vent her silent passion. Saori launched into an explanation of player griefing the nuances of ruining another person''s experience an far you could go before qualifying for a report. Blaine was only half-listening. It seemed like useful informaton but his attention was on Katya who was only slowly relaxing in his arms.

    557 reappeared at their table, tray in hand. Her face was carefully neutral but she couldn''t meet Blaine''s eyes while she was getting their refill count and scooped up their empties.

    Katya reached out as she turned to leave, fingers brushing the Uzi''s hand. The submachine gun froze, shoulders hunching again, but all Katya said was, "We''ve all done stupid things for a contract. Don''t let him get to you."

    557 bit her lip and her fingers clenched briefly around Katya''s. Without another word she hurried away, losing herself in the flow of traffic around the bar.

    "She''s trying so hard," Katya sighed, now relaxing into Blaine''s lap like a tired cat. "I hope she finds a good Meister soon. Waiting for your first can be really tough."

    "Man, you''d better contract that girl if you can," Troy chuckled.

    "You think she''d still want me?" Blaine asked. The poor girl had seemed grateful to escape his presence.

    "If she didn''t want you she wouldn''t care," Saori rolled her eyes. "You''d better rank up soon! And that goes for you too, Troy, I want a sister."

    "I suppose I can run another ranked match tonight," Troy groaned. "How about you Blaine? Want to run a team match?"

    "Actually, I think I''m going to go into a deathmatch." Blaine flexed his fingers on Katya''s thigh and she clawed gently at his chest. "I''m really close to Bronze Master, and I think I can get over that hump if I get lucky tonight."

    "Hit Silver by next weekend and you''ll get more than lucky," Katya whispered as she ground herself gently on his lap.

    That settled it, he stood up without waiting for his drink to arrive. "I''ll get the drinks next time Troy. I''ve got some killing to do now."

 Chapter 6: Rank UP

    The map had been a small one. The fighting was quick, with everyone rushing in to try to get an easy kill on a distracted target. Katya''s slide was locked back and Blaine crouched in an upstairs room, holding his breath. He was cornered. Low ammo, no way out.

    Below someone was moving about. They probably already suspected he was up here. Not a lot of places left to hide now. He might spray shots through the floor and hope to get lucky but a single mag probably wouldn''t be enough to make that happen.

    Fuck it. He''d already gotten a couple of kills, but Silver was on the horizon, every point counted. Standing up, he noisily reloaded Katya and clomped to the top of the stairs. "Hey!" he called down. "Hey, you down there!"

    A startled pause. "Yeah?"

    Sounded like a woman''s voice. "We''re kind of stuck here, aren''t we?" Blaine asked, keeping Katya trained at the corner of the landing. "I don''t feel like coming down, but that circle will get us both."

    "I think the center is outside," she replied. "If you want kill points you''ll have to come down here."

    Fuck. No windows up here, he couldn''t see if she was lying. "If I stay up here you won''t get the points either," he pointed out.

    "I''ll still get the winning bonus. You want to make this quick? I don''t have a job, I can wait all day."

    He grinned. "I don''t have a job either. Do you have a knife?"

    Her tone this time was more thoughtful. "Mmm... something like that."

    "Perfect," he edged down another step. "Then we''ll have a knife fight. You get more points for a melee kill and I get a chance to win. And we don''t blunder into a point-blank shoot-out, those are always stupid."

    "I could use the points," her voice was intrigued. "How do I know you won''t just shoot me?"

    Good question. "I''ll risk it if you will. I''m this close to Silver, I think one knife kill might put me over the edge. I know you''re hungry too. Look, I''m coming downstairs."

    "Throw your gun down first!"

    "I''m not throwing Katya," he said. "You''ll have to trust me on that one. It''s my ass here, not yours, relax."

    Gently patting Katya''s slide, he set the FNX down with a click and headed down the stairs. If she just blew his head off when he showed himself he didn''t want Katya perceiving it. She said she never judged him for losing, but still, he didn''t want to look stupid in front of her.

    The downstairs was pretty much as he''d remembered it, a basic living room setup that had been ravaged by weather. The woman was crouched behind the sofa as he peeked out, leading with his empty hands. He looked down the barrel of her Glock and smiled a bit nervously.

    "Oh don''t be a baby," she chided. Her hair was basic auburn, she hadn''t spent any credits on cosmetic upgrades yet. "Come on out. Turn around... okay."

    The Glock was placed down on an end table and she produced a long bolo machete. Blaine winced, but didn''t bother complaining. His own knife was still the little folder, only two inches but it was razor sharp. This wasn¡¯t going to be pretty.

    "Well?" she asked, grinning down the length of her blade. "Hurry up, the circle''s closing."

    "Ahhh, fucking bitch," Blaine sighed. She laughed, and he raised his knife. She struck a confident pose and started stalking him. He began to circle, trying to find an advantage in the furniture but she pounced after him and started slashing back and forth. He didn''t have room to close, so he backed frantically away. Blood was already running down his wrist. She kept the pressure up. He tried to grab for a chair and she took off two of his fingers. He could feel his body starting to slow already as he bled.

    "This was your idea," she taunted through panting breaths.

    "Okay, fuck my ideas," Blaine dashed in. The machete flashed towards his head. He raised his arm and felt a numbing jolt as his hand was severed¨Cbut then he was close, very close, and her frantic backpedaling sent the back-hand cut wild. His remaining hand flashed back and forth. He got her in the face, the chest, and twice in the belly before the wall checked her retreat and he slammed up against her. His full weight came in behind the pommel of his knife and he slammed the razor steel right through her clutching palm, deep into her ribs.

    They stared at each other for a long moment. Then she grinned weakly, blood running from her mouth. "Nice... but I''ll get you next time."

    He''d lost too much blood to banter much, his life was ebbing fast. "I''ll see you in Silver," he gasped before twisting the blade and slashing out. She sagged down the wall, her face going slack, and he staggered backwards. Darkness closed in.

    Match Complete.

    Katya pressed into his arms the moment he reentered the lobby. "Congratulations!" she mumbled into his mouth. "Silver! Congratulations!"

    "You and me both," he replied between passionate lip-locks. "Mmm! That''s my good girl!"

    She broke away at last and leaned back, gazing up at him fondly. "We should celebrate."

    "We should," he agreed. "One last time when it''s just the two of us."

    Her green eyes glittered with delight. "To the hotel then?"

    "No, to the mall first," he said, and her lips curved up in delight. "You deserve some upgrades. We have a thirty thousand credit budget tonight, I haven''t saved up this long for nothing."

    She squealed with delight and buried her face in his chest. He kissed the top of her head while she nuzzled into him. They finally broke apart just enough to start walking, Katya''s body pressed up against him, her arms looped about his waist as they headed towards the door. He kept his hand on her shoulder, stroking her bare skin. They made their way down the street, oblivious to the other pedestrians, the lights of the mall growing brighter as they approached.

    "Have you decided what you might want for a skin?" Blaine asked.

    "What would you like?" she countered at once.

    "Sweetie, anything will do so long as you love it." he slid his hand into her hip pocket. She purred at the caress and hugged him tighter. They couldn''t be any closer without wearing the same pants. They entered the mall and he turned them towards the pistol accessories. She finally broke away to skip ahead, eager to see what her future might hold. He let her savor the excitement. She deserved it.

    "What do you think?" he asked as he joined her at the case of rail attachments.

    "Mmmm... I don''t know," she was bent over, nose and breasts flattened against the glass as she peered down at the rows of flashlights, lasers, even bayonets. "If I get a flashlight you''ll need a new holster too."

    "I think we can afford a holster," he chuckled, running his hand over the curve of her ass, feeling her wiggle playfully under his fingers.

    "Well, you''re a pretty good shot," she considered. "You know how to use my sights... I think a flashlight would be really useful when you have to go indoors and clear a building. Remember how you almost got ambushed going up those stairs?"

    He remembered wishing he had a light in that last match, and nodded to the clerk, who plucked the right model for an FNX out from behind the counter. Katya straightened, eyes shining as she turned to him. "Thank you so much!" she purred, leaning in for another kiss. "You''re welcome," he murmured when their lips parted. "But we aren''t done. Go on. I''ll look at sights while you pick out a weapon skin."

    She hesitated, biting her lip, but he made a shooing gesture and she hurried down to a large touchscreen, where she began swiping through pictures. He watched her go, enjoying her glee, before turning a practical eye towards the laser sights. He''d always shot with irons before but the red dots seemed much faster. As he compared reticles he could hear Katya whispering over her options with the clerk, a slender effeminate man who gave Blaine pistol vibes. It seemed she had something specific in mind after all. He was glad she had this chance to express herself.

    Settling on a low-profile red dot sight he reached around the counter to help himself and moseyed down to barrels. If he was going for a sub gun next it seemed reasonable to focus on accuracy upgrades for Katya, letting her take a more specialized role. .45 wasn''t a precision round, but with the right build...

    Huh. Displayed on top of its box, a little collection of parts were labeled, ''460 Rowland Upgrade''. He peered down at them. The barrel was threaded, like Katya''s original, but clearly intended for the chunky compensator. A couple of upgraded recoil spring assemblies were marked with a label that promised he could use them to shoot .45 or .460 Rowland. He''d never heard of this caliber before. Two cartridges sat side by side for comparison and he squinted at the ballistics chart tacked up beside them.

    He''d never studied reloading before. The two cartriges looked almost identical, the .460 might be a hair longer, but according to the chart this upgrade would give him power comparable to a .44 magnum. He smirked. Troy would be envious. Scooping up this upgrade package he went down to triggers next. Katya''s stock trigger crept a bit too much for Blaine''s taste. He''d had the pleasure of shooting a custom job once, and it had spoiled him rotten.

    With his handful of upgrades he finally went over to the skins kiosk. But when Katya tried to swivel the screen towards him he raised a hand, averting his eyes. "No! No I want it to be a suprise."Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    The clerk burst out laughing and Katya blushed. "See?" the man said. "I told you. He''s a good one."

    "But what if you don''t like it?" Katya twisted her hands nervously. "I don''t want you to waste all that money..."

    Blaine looked at the clerk and raised his brows. The young man chuckled. "Sir, I promise, if you are the man she says you are, you will love this skin."

    "Good enough for me," Blaine declared, and pushed the upgrades across the counter. "Ring it all up."

    Katya winced as the price of the upgrades soared. They would only have a few hundred credits left over after this. "Are you sure?" she asked, eyes widening a little.

    "You deserve it," he assured her.

    "All right..." she scooped up the little collection of upgrades. The clerk handed her a ticket with a bar code on it and pointed towards a changing booth. She clutched it all to her chest and scurried inside, excitement buzzing through every motion. Blaine leaned on the counter and watched her go, feeling immensely pleased.

    "You picked a good upgrade," the clerk remarked. "That .460 is still obscure. We only get a few of them in inventory."

    "Really?" Blaine had never considered the game''s economy before. "I just thought there was a limitless supply."

    "No, the developers like to keep things interesting," the clerk leaned in a little closer. He could probably sense the open contract slot. Blaine didn''t mind, he was secure enough that a little masculine attention didn''t bother him. "Most of the time people just recontract with the caliber they want. The developers like seeing some gun turnover, it means the players are staying engaged. But they know some Meisters take committments seriously so the option is still there."

    Blaine grunted. He couldn''t imagine kicking Katya to the curb just because he wanted to switch to a different pistol, but he supposed some players had better Real/Game separation. Or maybe they were just psychopaths.

    The door swung open and Katya came dancing out. Her eyes were shining, her head bobbing, and she moved her arms over her head in time with an unheard beat. She turned slowly in place as if modeling for him, hips swaying and fingers snapping. As far as he could tell she looked just the same¨Cno, there was a difference. Her cropped top clung to her a bit more tightly, and her hair shimmered in soft waves, a sea of golden waves over one shoulder. . As far as he could tell she hadn''t changed physically, but her look was more polished. As if she''d taken advantage of the booth to fine-tune her whole appearance. "Well?" he asked as he reached for her hand. "I feel amazing!" she grinned up at him, her hair falling . "Every nerve is singing, and I could swim to Tahiti. I''ve never had a caliber upgrade before. Thank you, Blaine."

    He started to draw her closer but she vanished under his fingers and her new, slightly heavier pistol form settled into his holster with a soft click of the retention switch. He drew the weapon and examined it. At first it seemed utilitarian, a black frame and green slide, with a golden trigger, compensator, and barrel. But as he turned Katya in his hands something caught his eye and his breath hitched. The top of the slide had been painted¨Cno, he looked closer, engraved¨Cwith an elegant lineart drawing of a beautiful woman who could only be Katya herself. She was posed naked, legs coyly drawn together, arms flung open to flaunt her breasts. Every time he pointed the weapon up he would see her smiling back at him, just like the first time they''d contracted.

    "You weren''t lying," he told the clerk.

    "I never do," the young man smirked and headed for the back. Blaine walked from the store, still admiring Katya''s new skin. She''d chosen a low-profile color scheme, but she''d made it beautiful and unique, just like when she''d modified her tank top for him. His heart swelled and he raised her to his lips, kissing the cold metal of the slide. "I love it," he whispered. "You''re such a good girl, my Katya."

    The gun faded from his hand and Katya reappeared. She jumped up into his arms, wrapping her legs about his hip and kissed him deeply. He grabbed her ass and bounced her once to get a better hold. She moaned hungrily at the friction, her tongue eagerly plumbing his mouth. He bit down on her lower lip and she whined needily.

    "Take me somewhere private," she whispered urgently, fingernails digging into his shoulders. "I want to show you how good I feel."

    The Third Lagoon Tiki Bar was doing brisk business when he showed the next day. A large group of high-ranking players seemed to be celebrating something. They all wore the same patch on their sleeves, a flaming warthog with the tab ''Real Guts'' above it. He wasn''t sure what that meant, but they had filled all the booths. Beside him Katya slipped her hand into his and tugged him towards the bar. He''d suggested taking her to the mall for a new top before coming here but she''d just taken one of his old shirts and cut it up into a new off-shoulder crop top. He liked it.

    "Hey Josie," he greeted the pink-haired bartender as they bellied up to the sleek wood. "How''s it going? Hey, is 557 around today?"

    The girl narrowed her eyes as she studied him, and he remembered the submachine gun''s warning. The P90 looked ready to drag him over the counter herself and he had to wonder if the game would let him fight her off.

    Katya tapped his shoulder. "I see her! 557! Over here!"

    Josie made a frustrated growl as she stalked away. A moment later the Uzi was standing across from them, her hazel eyes bright and cheerful. "Oh hi guys!" she chirped. "The usual?"

    "The usual," Blaine confirmed.

    "I see someone got some upgrades..." 557 passed Katya''s mixed drink across to her with a teasing smile. "You look so good, girl!"

    "Thanks!" Katya preened. "It''s a .460 drop-in and trigger job."

    "Ooo," the Uzi set his beer down. "You''ll be a tack driver now! You''ve got good taste Blaine."

    Her eyes flickered as she took another look at him before leaning in. "Oh! She''s not the only one with a suprise today. Don''t tell me..."

    "He''s here for you," Josie groused as she passed by with a tray. "Good luck keeping up with her, guy. She never does what I tell her to either."

    557''s eyes widened, and she glanced at Katya. "Is she serious?" Her hazel eyes shot back to him. "You''re serious?"

    "Of course he''s serious," Katya ran her fingers over Blaine''s shoulder. "I promise, he will handle you."

    "I''m here for you," Blaine confirmed. "If you''ll have me."

    "Well¨CI¨Cof course," she stammered. "I mean, yes! Yes of course!"

    "Good," Blaine took a pull from his beer. "Then get yourself a drink and take off that apron."

    "Ha!" she shouted triumphantly. "Ha! In your face, Josie! In your face!"

    The P90 gave her a sour look and an extended middle finger. 557 cackled and snatched a bottle from the cooler. With a fluid motion she vaulted the bar, her long legs flashing before she landed astride Blaine. He caught her easily and slid his arm around her. She looked down into his eyes and made a happy cooing sound. "You have no idea how much this means to me," she said. Her voice softened. "You kept your promise. To me."

    Katya hugged her new sister, laughing softly. "Didn''t I tell you? He''ll take good care of you."

    Josie was reaching for a control panel, probably about to instance them out of the bar, so Blaine chugged his beer and carefully set 557 down on her feet. "I think we''ve worn out our welcome here, but I got a damn good gun and a pretty girl out of the deal. Let''s go, there''s a nice hotel a block down and I want to consummate this contract."

    557 made a happy squeal, and Katya clutched at her arm giggling. "You''re in for it now!"

    "Are you talking to me, or her?" Blaine glanced back at the two suspiciously. Katya widened her eyes and gave an enigmatic shrug. 557 dissolved into another fit of giggles, bouncing on her heels. Blaine shook his head. If he could get them to the hotel without stopping traffic it would be a miracle.

    The hotel door clicked shut behind them. Unlike their usual haunts, this place was plush. Pictures hung on the wall and there was a small communal area before the bedroom opened up. It was perfect. Katya took 557''s hand and drew her further inside. The brunette followed eagerly, but Blaine noticed with some amusement that she hesitated at the transition point. She''s brave, but it''s still her first time, he reminded himself firmly.

    "All right, now you two try not to lose the damage deposit," Katya teased as she shifted for the couch. "You two want the first time to be special right? I''ll just wait¨C"

    She squeaked in surprise as Blaine caught her by the belt and pulled her back towards him. 557 laughed, the sound bright and musical, and seized her sister''s arm. The two of them pulled Katya to the bed and tossed her onto the thick comforter. She stared up at them, excitement and confusing filling her green eyes. She started to speak, but Blaine pressed his finger to her lips.

    "The first time will always be special," he said as he pulled 557 against his hip. The Uzi pressed herself eagerly to him, her leg raising to grind on his thigh. "But it''s special for all of us. Vytke is joining us. I wouldn''t have picked her if you didn''t like her too. You''re both my special girls and neither of you will ever be left out."

    Katya''s eyes flicked back and forth. 557 licked her lips, her gaze heated but steady as her fingers trailed along Blaine''s shirt, gently undoing buttons. Then Katya''s lips quirked in an eager smile and she sat up to run her hands over the Uzi''s hips. "You see what I mean?" she repeated.

    "I do," 557 rolled her hips into Katya''s hands. "Now shut up and kiss me."

    The blonde stood up and the two girls entwined, momentarily forgetting Blaine altogether. He stood back, stripping out of his shirt and boots, enjoying the sight. 557 was the more dominant of the two, she ran her fingers up into Katya''s hair and pulled gently, causing the pistol to moan and pluck at the bikini strings. The garment fell away, revealing naturally tan skin and soft, perfectly feminine curves.

    Blaine stepped close and took the Israeli gun by her hair so he could cut into their kiss. She tipped her head back and moaned into his mouth, her tongue lashing frantically while Katya''s lips trailed down her throat to her dark nipples. Togther, Blaine and Katya eased the Uzi onto the bed, working together to peel off her shorts and leave her naked for their pleasure.

    For a moment, Blaine stood back and looked down at her, committing the moment to memory. 557''s skin seemed to glow in the soft light, a beautiful contrast to Katya''s pale complexion, her body a perfect balance of strength and femininity. Her wide hazel eyes were locked on his, and her body rolled in a shy but hungry invitation.

    Katya chuckled softly and reached for his waistband. "I think she''s ready for you, Meister."

    He let Katya''s fingers disrobe him, her touch familiar and gentle. 557 watched them both, her cheeks flushed, her pulse flickering in her slender throat. He stepped out of his pants at last and mounted the bed, allowing Katya to guide him down between the Uzi''s legs. He sank home, eliciting a cry of delight from the virgin gun, her back arching as he claimed her.

    They began to move, all three of them. The Uzi melted against him, her cries soft and joyous. Katya encouraged her, seamlessly fitting together with them. Time seemed to slip away, the world melting into darkness beyond the bed, beyond the golden moment.

    Their pace soon built up as the Uzi begged for more. The bed creaked under their bodies. Blaine''s fingers were knotted in dark hair, and 557 was clawing at Katya''s blonde head again. The candle-flame had built into an inferno fanned by sweaty bodies and trembling cries. Blaine could feel his control starting to slip. He had no idea how long this had lasted, but it was going to end in a blaze. 557 screamed in pleasure beneath him, her spasms igniting his own climax. All three of them clutched at each other as the moment stretched... and stretched... and finally snapped. Blaine lay panting on the bed beside the two girls. Katya was gently stroking her sister''s face as aftershocks continued to bring whimpers to her lips. The blonde slowly crawled across so she could lie down on Blaine''s other side, curling in under his arm in her default position, while 557 swooned.

    "Did I break her?" Blaine asked as he tilted his head to look at the happy Uzi.

    "She''ll recover," Katya reached across his chest so she could rest her hand on 557''s shoulder. "The first time is always intense. She''s building whole new algorithms based on this."

    Blaine carefully pulled the comforter up over them. Katya cooed softly and buried her head in his chest. 557 gradually came back to herself, her breathing steadying and her eyes focusing. She turned to face them, glowing happily. "That was amazing," she admitted. "Thank you Meister. Thank you Katya."

    "Welcome to the family Vytke," he said without thinking, and she shuddered again with a soft sound of delight.

    "Vytke..." she repeated, and Katya chorused it with her.

    "My Vytke," Blaine confirmed. "Our Vytke. Our sweet good girl."

    She kissed him and Katya before sprawling out beneath the comforter. "I love it..." she whispered.

    Blaine closed his eyes, letting their warmth and weight anchor him before he could float away. If he could stay here forever he would. With a reluctant sigh he dragged two fingers up to his temple and logged out.

 Chapter 7: A Cup Of Tea

    "And then that nice young man downstairs said the dog wasn''t his after all! Can you believe it? Kids these days."

    "Kids these days," Blaine echoed automatically. His hands were full of roots and dirt or he might have gestured to emphasize. He was in Mrs. Humphries'' apartment. Today was re-potting day, and she had knocked on his door in search of a second pair of hands. Blaine wasn''t quite sure what he was actually contributing to the process, but the old lady seemed happy and a little dirt never hurt anyone.

    "I think we''ll put this #plant in the white pot," Mrs. Humphries decided at last. She slid the ceramic planter over to him and he carefully lowered the plant into it. Apparently just any pot of appropriate size wouldn''t do. The type of plant and color of pot both influenced where it could go in the tiny apartment. The criteria were a mystery. He wondered absently if Mr. Humphries had often sat at this same table while his wife puttered about, trying first one pot and then another in the various spots.

    "So does he still talk to Mabel then?" Blaine had heard the name somewhere in the last story and it seemed like a fairly safe follow-up question.

    "He does! They see each other quite frequently as a matter of fact. Three weeks ago I caught them..."

    She was off again, and Blaine disassociated once more. It was strangely cathartic, almost meditative. He stared at the curl of a fallen leaf, his mind drifting back to the action of the last few days. Ever since he''d contracted with Vytke the matches had been different. Long guns introduced the first real role influence in the game. He''d been doing all right for himself, but players at Silver didn''t play nearly as aggressively and he was forced to be more selective about his opportunities.

    A clink of ceramic brought him back to himself. Mrs. Humphries had set a steaming cup in front of him. He blinked up at her, and saw her eyes were soft.

    "My Cole was in the war," she explained gently. "Drink your tea. Don''t mind me."

    He wiped his hands on a towel and sipped cautiously. Damn, he''d really been out of it if she''d had time to boil water. He hadn''t lost himself like that in a while. The doctors had said it was some sort of PTSD, that his brain would sometimes just lose track of time. One had compared it to a stripped gear in a transmission. Either way, it was annoying. "Sorry," he said automatically. "Sometimes I just..." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "It happens to the best," she said firmly. "You know, my Cole never so much as raised his voice to me, but one day he was taking a nap on the couch and I went to shake him awake, and he knocked me clean out before he knew where he was. Poor man was mortified but I told him it was completely understandable. From then on I always just called his name and he''d sit right up."

    Blaine had had quite a few bad wake-ups himself. He''d never hit anyone, but Mr. Humphries''s war had been a bad one and he didn''t blame the deceased for being twitchy.

    "I never went into combat zones," he admitted. "I was an MP who went into #criminal investigations. It wasn''t even close to war."

    "My grandson is a deputy sheriff, so don''t think you can fool me," Mrs. Humphries sipped at her own tea. "You might like him. He''ll come by for the holidays."

    "Redheaded kid? Six one, two-forty? I think I ran past him last year. That''s your grandson?"

    "Yes, my daughter married a Midwestern farmer," Mrs. Humphries smiled proudly. "He says he doesn''t even have to fight, he just asks nicely and they hop in the back of the car for him."

    Blaine laughed at that mental image. Yeah, the kid had been built. "He''s a very pleasant young man. You must be proud."

    "Oh, I am.... but here I go again. You''re probably tired aren''t you? Let me take that."

    Despite his protests Mrs. Humphries loaded him up with zucchini bread and scooped up one of her smaller ferns. He eyed the plant nervously as she walked him to his apartment. Sure enough, she breezed through his door and set it on the counter. "You need some color," she declared firmly. "It''s good for a man to smell some fresh things now and then. You know they filter the air."

    "Ma''am, thank you, but you really don''t have to..."

    "Nonsense," she cut him off firmly. "This one was an extra cutting I needed to rehome. You''re doing me a favor. Leave it there and water it twice a week. Don''t overdo it."

    Blaine surrendered helplessly and bade her good-bye. His apartment probably hadn''t seen flora since the last time they''d painted over the mold. He swiveled his chair around and studied the interloper. One could assume it was healthy, there were plenty of green bits at least. But his counter now looked a little empty. Before it had been a clear workspace. Now... it needed something to balance the effect.

    The box of knives was still at the forefront of his closet. Blaine dug through it. At the bottom were several random papers, the keys to his old motorcycle, and a few photos in an envelope. He pulled out the photos and started flicking through them.

    He''d never been to combat zones, but he''d seen a lot of action during his time on the Special Reaction Team. His younger self grinned stupidly out of the photo, flanked on either side by hard-eyed men. This picture had been taken in Italy. He''d been stationed with the 82nd Airborne, they''d busted a couple of drug dealers on base and worked a joint op with the Italians on a human trafficking ring. Good times.

    He leaned the photo against the fern''s pot and promised himself to get a frame when he was out next.

 Chapter 8: Death Race

    The sun was bright and warm as Blaine and his girls moved down the crowded sidewalks towards the competition center. Their look had finally come together, and they were turning a few heads on the sidealk. Blaine was dressed in his usual urban tiger-stripe pants and a gray tee shirt, with a red desert scarf around his neck. His tactical vest bristled with stick magazines, and a fighting tomahawk hung at his hip.

    Flanking him, Vytke and Katya had chosen to coordinate with his look in their own ways. Katya had rolled down the waist on some gray camo capris, which allowed her red thong to ride high on her hips, and cut off another tank top. Vytke had opted for a high-collared red vest that she had unzipped almost to her navel, and tight gray booty shorts. When they moved together Blaine felt as if he was one of those kingpins flanked by femme fatales.

    "Something''s different," Vytke pointed at the competition center. Blaine peered ahead. The building had always been an elegant octagonal shape, high and regal over the sidewalks. Today there seemed to be a piece missing. Had they remodeled? He didn''t think someone could have blown off a chunk. People would have been buzzing about something like that happening. Most of the other meisters were either stepping out eagerly towards the competition center or coming back with extra pep in their step.

    "It''s probably a special event," Katya said. "They have one every month. Some sort of novelty match, with prizes like credits or unique gear or even extra weapon slots."

    That sounded interesting. Blaine found himself looking forward to seeing what sort of scenarios could be made within the game. He''d heard about a big alien invasion event that happened every year, would this be tied into that?

    "I need two! Two more for the event!" someone shouted.

    "One more! No car needed!" someone else chimed in. People were coming back out of the competition center calling for recruits. And something about cars? People could spend their money on vehicles if they wanted. Blaine hadn''t bothered because he always slept in hotels near the center of town and could walk anywhere he wanted. There was a lot more vehicle traffic now that he was thinking about it... cars weren''t parking in the instanced garages around the competition center, they were going around the building and disappearing in the back.

    Odd.

    His phone buzzed. Taking the device from a chest pocket he swiped, eyes never leaving the street. "Blaine here."

    "Hey man!" it was Troy. "You up for a match?" "Maybe, if I can figure this out," he replied. "What''s going on?"

    "It''s a death race. With cars. Pretty cool idea actually."

    Shit. "Sounds fun, but I don''t have a car and I''m a little broke at the moment."

    "No, don''t worry about that," there was a faint chime on the phone that told him his friend had joined his instance. "I''ve got a car. Where are you?"

    "In front of that statue of the big alien guy," Blaine peered down the street. "What are you driving?"

    "A red full-sized truck. Black flames. Stay there, we''re pulling into the block. Is Katya with you?"

    "Why wouldn''t she be?"

    "Well, my sister might not want to stop if I tell her we''re looking for an ugly old man. Tell Katya to stand at the curb. You go hide or something."

    Blaine snorted. "Fuck you too."

    "Okay, we see you. Walk across the street, meet us in the garage there."

    Blaine jaywalked to the garage in question, drawing irritated honks from the drivers on the road. This structure was another example of instancing. Each person or group who passed through the door found themselves in their own unique version of the garage. This meant that there was never competition for parking spaces. Several cars were always there, but they were purely decorative.

    His phone chimed again. Troy was inviting him to a group. Blaine accepted, and a moment later a full-sized dually pickup pulled into the garage behind him. The driver''s side door opened and Troy hopped out. He bumped fists with Blaine before opening the back seat and starting to don his heavy juggernaut armor. Saori got out the other side and waved at Blaine. A moment later she was joined by an equally dainty Asian girl, dressed in a matching school uniform.

    "Oh yeah, Blaine," Troy was grinning. "Meet Kaori. She''s an APC9K, a machine pistol. With her I can clear a room in one burst. I contracted with her last night."

    "Kaori," Blaine nodded. "And Saori. Troy, you sure you don''t want to try for a theme?"

    The young man barked a laugh. "What can I say? I''m a weeb at heart. Can you grab that plate for me?"

    Blaine was slotting a ceramic plate into the back of Troy''s armor when the light from the entrance dimmed. He looked up and saw a sleek Marussia B-4 supercar pull in to park at an angle across from the truck. His eyebrows rose. That thing had to be millions of credits. When he tried to count how many kills it would take to pay for something like that he found himself viewing the driver in a new, slightly more respectful light. The door scissored open and a striking dark-haired woman stepped out. She wore a tank top and tactical vest, which showed off full sleeve tattoos. Her eyes were gunmetal grey and they came at Blaine like a couple of bullets. A couple of reactions tugged at him, everything from blading up to a potential threat to standing at parade rest for a strict NCO. He forced himself to hook his fingers into his vest and stand casually.

    "Oh, this is Blaine," Troy called. His voice came out with a grunt as he hefted his shield from the bed of his truck. "He''s our fifth."

    "Is that so?" she shifted her weight to one leg and continued to stare at him. Katya pressed nervously into his shoulder, she must have picked up on his reaction.

    "That''s me," Blaine got tired of the staredown and pulled off his glove before offering his hand to shake. She relented, and stripped off her own protection to return the gesture. Her grip was iron.

    "Blaine, I''m Alex," she said. "Troy''s my little brother. So you''re the guy he''s always swooning over?"

    "Not swooning!" Troy shouted, outraged. "He''s just a cool guy, okay?"

    "I''m aware of the effect I have on men," Blaine deadpanned.

    Alex might have smirked at that. "It''s good to finally put your face to your name." Her eyes scanned over his vest. "You''re a flanker then?"

    She must have identified his stick mags. "For now, anyway."

    "Well, I think that''ll be good for this game. Troy did you fill him in on the match yet?"

    "Not yet," Troy finally joined them. "I thought I''d wait for Marcus and Viridiana."

    "Fine," Alex glanced at her phone. "They''re a minute out."

    The idea of a full team plus their guns crowding into the garage seemed excessive, so Blaine tapped his holster twice. Katya and Vytke both shimmered and took their places under his hands. Vytke dangled from a single-point sling, sporting a massive drum magazine, which drew Troy''s eye. "Damn, you''ve really built her into a bullet hose haven''t you?"

    "I like customization," Blaine ran his fingers over the grip tape. "And I think there''s a balancing mechanic in the game, the more fine-tuned the weapon system the closer you get to parity."

    "Seems reasonable," Troy held up his massive revolver. Saori had been given a blued finish, her barrel had been lengthened, and the grips held a laser sight. "I can make plates ring at a hundred yards from the hip with this setup, or bust a skull like a cantelope."

    The long heavy barrel as a weapon hadn''t even occurred to Blaine. It was a sobering thought. What else can I look forward to at higher ranks? So far he hadn''t found many ways to cheese the gameplay, but he was sure there were niche exploits waiting to bite him in the ass.

    A large van interrupted his thoughts as it pulled into the parking garage. This must be the other two teammates. He tucked his hands into his vest and watched with mild interest as the door slid open to reveal a muscular woman in heavy armor similar to Troy''s, and a lean black man whose armor was crisscrossed with grenade launcher rounds.

    "New guy?" the amazon stuck out her hand and he shook it. "I''m Viridiana, and this is JaMarcus. He doesn''t talk much."

    "S''up?" the stoic in question nodded to Blaine before turning to open up the van. Blaine watched as he took out a grenade launcher and a Tavor bullpup carbine, slinging both over his shoulder. Viridia waited for him to get out of her way before she reached in and dragged out a .30-cal light machine gun on a bipod. He didn''t recognize it. Probably a Chinese design, there were some interesting weapons coming out of the East nowadays.

    "Ready up," Troy announced as he ran his arm into his big shield''s grips.

    "Ready up," the others echoed. Blaine added his voice to the chorus as all eyes turned to Alex.

    "All right, so it''s some sort of car deal," the leader held up her phone. "The details aren''t very clear. It says to bring any vehicles we like. Each vehicle that we use gets a free repair voucher, so don''t worry about damage. I''m thinking that it''s some sort of race. Leave the van. We''ll take Troy''s truck and my car. Viridia and JaMarcus will be in the bed of the truck while Troy drives. You guys are support by fire, just lay the hate on anything that moves and give me opportunities to get through. Blaine, you''re going to ride with me."

    Simple and direct. No point in trying to plan more when so much was unknown. Blaine opened the door and carefully slid into the plush leather seats. He felt rather silly and out of place with all of his gear. Even with the seat all the way back and Vytke''s stock folded there was barely room to move in the supercar. Alex got in. Her weapon was a Kalashnikov variant, which rode in a custom rack mounted on the door itself, and her pistol was an antique Beretta M9 in a thigh holster. She seemed to be a very pragmatic sort when it came to gear.

    Her music system was playing some sort of classical piece he wasn''t familiar with. He stayed quiet and enjoyed the new experience while she led their two-car motorcade out of the garage and into the traffic that streamed into the competition center''s new vehicle entrance.

    A swing arm forced them to stop for a ticket booth that was manned by the receptionist he usually saw at the front desk. She gave them a cheery wave. "Hi! Is your group ready for the Death Race?"

    "Clan Wolfguard plus one," Alex confirmed. She hooked her thumb back at the truck. "Them too."

    "Parking Level sixty! Good luck!"

    The arena turned out to be a large circular track, banked slightly, which ringed a pit with no safety rail. There wasn''t much room to maneuver. When Blaine peered across the chasm he could see three cars lined up in a row on the other side. That must be the enemy team. Even as he squinted, he saw a flash from weapon muzzles and heard the impact of a round into the supercar''s body.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Alex didn''t hesitate. She slammed down on the accelerator and the car roared forward. Troy''s truck tucked in behind them. There was an angry chatter from Viridia''s machine gun, but the other team was moving too and she sat back frustrated as the vehicles began to maneuver.

    The first lap was unremarkable. A few potshots were exchanged but neither team wanted to burn ammo hoping for a lucky hit. Alex was chewing on her lip as she drove, eyes narrowed. She was thinking over her options. Blaine rolled down his window and tried to crawl out so he could sit on the sill like in the action movies, but there wasn''t any grip on the roof and he wasn''t confident he could lock in his feet under the seat. He settled for running the seat belt around his legs and hanging his torso out the window, Vytke in hand.

    Alex began to accelerate, trying to catch up to the enemies on the far side, but they sped up as well to keep the distance. He could barely hear her over the wind noise as she talked on the radio, relaying instructions to the truck. Then he lurched in his perch as she took off. The truck slowed down as she howled around the track, separating from the heavy weapons to try to catch the other team in a pincer. Not a bad idea, Blaine thought, as long as Viridia didn''t over-shoot and hit them instead. As he watched, the other team hesitated before deciding to separate as well.

    Alex decelerated at once when she saw this, but the enemy team seemed to have a good plan. One car continued forward, accelarating to engage with Troy''s team, while the other two waited for the supercar to catch up so they could overwhelm the lightly armed pair.

    Gloved fingers yanked on his pants leg and he pulled himself back into the supercar.

    "Recline your seat," Alex ordered. She''d already lowered hers and was sitting up awkwardly so she could barely peer over the dash. "We''re going to pass them and hit the other vehicle from behind."

    Blaine doubted the car could punch through the skirmish line that had formed ahead of them, but he dropped the seat and tried to scrunch down into the footwell as far as possible in hopes that the engine block could shield him. The speedometer was climbing again. Rounds impacted off the front grill and radiator as they swept around the curve.

    The windshield spider-webbed and Alex had to peer out the window. There was a heavy impact. Rounds tore into the compartment, zipping over his head. One went off his helmet and it felt like he''d been hit by a hammer. He struggled upright. They were still moving. Alex was shouting something but his ears were ringing and he couldn''t understand¨Cshe was reaching over, grabbing the seatbelt, then shouted another warning before there was a tremendous crash. The car flipped. Blaine''s body was hurled about in the tiny space.

    Movement was painful, but action was life. He crawled across the inverted cabin and out the window, sitting up and peering down Vytke''s red dot sight back at the skirmish line. They''d punched through all right, and someone was laying in a twisted heap. He put two rounds into their body to make sure before switching to the group that was already turning their cars towards him.

    He knelt for a better shooting surface and fired in single-shot mode, putting bullets into the tires, the windshields, anything that might slow down the oncoming attackers. Another gun opened up across from him, Alex must have gotten her Kalashnikov untangled from the back seat. They blazed away at the two cars that swept towards them, forcing themselves to take measured, carefully aimed shots.

    One of the cars swerved towards him. He jumped sideways, rolling almost to the edge of the pit, and felt the wind gust as the car missed him by inches. There was a smashing sound as the other car impacted the Marussia again, probably trying to crush Alex. Blaine switched his attention to this stationary target and Vytke chattered angrily as he dumped the rest of the drum magazine into the driver''s side door.

    He transitioned to Katya as he ran forward and punched her muzzle brake through the window. The webbed glass finally shattered in, and he put two shots into the driver at contact range. The passenger shot at him with her pistol, her round impacting his left hand and traveling nearly all the way up his arm before exploding from his triceps. He staggered back. Before either of them could decide what to do next there was a burst from Alex''s rifle that shredded the interior of the vehicle and everyone still alive in it.

    He ran around the back of the car to see Alex crawling out from under the wreckage of her car. She''d been firing from a low angle, almost through the floorboards, and her legs weren''t working right. Blaine holstered Katya and grabbed the Wolfguard leader by her drag handle, hauling her away from the two tangled vehicles.

    "Don''t mind me!" she spat. "Go! Back up Troy!"

    He ignored her, pulling her back around the vehicles till she had her own angle of fire on the gunfight happening a hundred yards away. Then he dropped her, did an awkward one-handed reload of Vytke, and started running towards the action.

    Troy''s truck was slamming back and forth between the two vehicles. Viridiana was nowhere to be seen but JaMarcus was sloshing around in the bed of the truck trying to reload his grenade launcher. As Blaine watched someone bailed out of one of the vehicles and started circling for a good shot into the truck''s cab. He raised Vytke and started shooting. There was no way he could hit anything at this range while in a dead sprint, but his covering fire had the desired effect¨Cthe flanker looked up startled and abandoned their efforts to focus on this new threat. They raised a shotgun and blasted at him, he caught a couple of pellets and kept coming. Another blast knocked him to his knees. Gritting his teeth, Blaine drew Katya again and brought the red dot to bear.

    Darkness.

    Blaine jerked upright in a lounge area typical for regular matches. "Ahhh shit," he groaned as he rubbed his eyes. "Only got one."

    "No, that one was good," Viridana pointed at a monitor. "See? And you got Alex back into the fight."

    The dark-haired leader was prone, glaring down the sights of her rifle. As Blaine watched she punched rounds through the cab of one of the vehicles, bringing it to a standstill. A woman, presumably the driver, appeared in the lounge a moment later.

    Troy was bailing out. He staggered from his truck and rushed the shotgunner, taking two 12 gauge blasts to the chest before he brought his massive pistol down. Just like he''d boasted earlier, the heavy barrel smashed open the guy''s skull. Blaine was impressed. Troy didn''t have time to hesitate though, he jerked and stumbled back as he was lit up by the last vehicle''s driver. His thick juggernaut armor absorbed most of it but several rounds went into his helmet and clearly disoriented him.

    "Come on man, both hands on the gun!" Blaine clenched his fists.

    In the bed of Troy''s truck JaMarcus was barely moving, but he lifted one shaking hand over the edge and dropped a grenade. Troy and his enemy both spotted it, but all three vehicles went up in a fireball that spared no one.

    Match Complete. Team Win.

    "Ha!" Troy, JaMarcus, and Alex all appeared in the lounge. "JaMarcus, what was that?"

    The stoic man shrugged. "It worked."

    "You blew me up!"

    "It was justified," Alex said crisply. "We got the win. Don''t be such a baby. JaMarcus, I''ll remove the strike when we get back to the compound."

    Troy sat down with a chuckle. "I guess I can''t complain. So how did Blaine do?"

    "Adequate," those gunmetal eyes forked Blaine somewhere around the #brainpart. "He stayed calm and didn''t do anything stupid. He''ll do."

    "All right!" Viridiana offered Blaine a high five. "You don''t understand, she''s practically sucking your dick."

    Alex ignored this with the cool distain of a distant mountaintop while Blaine turned red. "You need a guild, the offer''s there," she said. "I need you to get Troy to Gold rank as soon as possible. I''m tired of rolling with pickups."

    Blaine thought about it. Honestly, he''d only just gotten used to Katya and Vytke sharing his digital life. A whole team of Meisters, and their guns as well, that was a lot of people suddenly relying on him. Pressure to perform, the frustration of failure, it was emotional energy he was only just learning to tap into again.

    His mind went back to his time with the #team and the people he''d know there. The lives that had depended on him. The blood and sweat and tears of training. The adrenaline of action. The highs and the lows...

    An old team leader''s words echoed. "Humans are pack hunters, Carter. You can only look in one direction at a time. When you find a corps of good people you stick with them, and you''ll go far together."

    Blaine nodded. It was time to join a team, and if Troy vouched for them that was good enough for him. Stripping off his glove he offered a handshake. Alex took it, and he followed her to the Marussia.

    ¡°Real estate is more valuable the closer you are to the event center,¡± Alex explained as she turned onto a highway. ¡°And it¡¯s never instanced. Unlike the event center, the mall, or the starter area, every residence is unique. The developers wanted to make excuses for people to spend money. Earn credits, earn prestige, spend credits, get more prestige, on and on. There isn¡¯t enough room for clan estates in the middle of the city, though I think Girls Inc owns one of the towers and their higher level members all stay there. For the rest of us, it¡¯s the neighborhoods.¡±

    Blaine could see the reasoning, even though it irked him. ¡°It¡¯s like the grindcore games of the mid-2010s. Packed with filler content to stretch the story out.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re dating yourself,¡± Alex chuckled dryly. ¡°That was before my time, before the first major studio collapse. But you¡¯re right. Like I heard you had to hunt like fifty rabbits in one game just to get an extra slot in your pouch, each one had a cinematic you couldn¡¯t skip.¡±

    ¡°And like three voice lines for the cinematic, yeah. Drove me nuts. I never finished that game. It was Game of the Year and everything too.¡±

    ¡°Money talks.¡±

    They lapsed into comfortable silence for a while. Alex turned up some eastern european death metal, and the howling lyrics were oddly soothing to Blaine even if he couldn¡¯t understand the language. The desert landscape scrolled by, very beautiful in its own stark, minimalistic way. Looking over his shoulder he could see the others in convoy strung out behind them.

    ¡°Oh, if you need to take a shit or something now¡¯s a good time,¡± Alex added. ¡°You can log out inside my vehicle, as long as you let your guns know not to relocate you it¡¯ll be fine. We¡¯ve got about ten minutes still to go.¡±

    Blaine grunted and touched his temple. It was good advice. Even through the muffling VR system he could tell his body was dehydrated. He needed to get a drink of water if nothing else.

    The world faded, and the #landscape was replaced by his dingy apartment. The dull grey walls tried to intimidate him, but somehow¡­ they had lost their power. He chugged his sports drink and smacked his lips to try to restore some mobility to the dry tissues, then wheeled himself into the bathroom to change his catheter bag. At least this was one thing he didn¡¯t have to worry about, taking a shit in-game.

    The nasty business concluded he #reflects a little, maybe realizes that his life is better than before.

    ¡°All right I¡¯m back,¡± he said, sitting up. ¡°What did I miss?¡±

    ¡°Not a lot. We¡¯re almost there.¡±

    And sure enough, they were turning down a lane and coming up towards a gated lot. The fence was stone, the gate a wrought iron thing that opened at a touch to a remote. As it slid back he saw several more vehicles parked out front. Including a dusty chopper with custom apes¡­

    ¡°Who rides?¡± he asked, pointing to the hog.

    ¡°That was TJ¡¯s ride before he quit the game. Since his account was deleted all his assets went to the guild. It¡¯s been parked ever since. You ride?¡±

    ¡°I used to,¡± he didn¡¯t elaborate, and Alex didn¡¯t ask. They climbed out of the vehicles and spent some time slinging their weapons. Blaine noticed that no weapons were in their human forms, the entry would probably be too crowded if they did. There was a palm reader at the front door, Alex scanned in and unlocked it.

    ¡°So here¡¯s the place,¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°Bedrooms are down that way, they¡¯re big enough for you and your harem. Reloading benches are in the garage right now. The rules are simple¨Cclean up after yourself, no sex in public areas, no sex with other teammates. If you want to get fucked by Viridiana, take that shit to a hotel and don¡¯t let me catch you. Seriously, that shit makes drama and I hate drama.¡±

    "Drama is never worth the price. What about the reloading benches?"

    "When you get into higher ranks the type of ammo you use will affect your performance," Alex drew a spare pistol mag and stripped out a bullet. He examined it. The casing was old, it had been reloaded a few times now. The bullet reminded him of a Corbin powerball, a hollow-point that had had the tip filled in with a steel ball bearing. When it entered flesh the ball bearing would break off and form a separate wound channel. A nasty little bit of work.

    "You can''t buy the higher grades of ammo in stores," she explained. "And depending on your weapon system, you can get a way higher level of performance from hand loads. Most people don''t bother with automatic loads, beyond maybe fine-tuning the power to match their exact strength profile, but with pistols, shotguns, and sniper rifles you can get a lot of return from building custom rounds."

    "I''ve seen some interesting shotgun loads," Blaine nodded. "That makes sense."

    She led him down the hall towards the bedrooms. This wing of the estate was the largest, and when she opened the door to the unmarked suite he could see why. This building was clearly designed with Meister''s in mind. The room was massive, with an Alaskan King bed in the center, and several smaller beds and couches around the edges so that a full harem could make themselves comfortable. He went further in and found the closets and shower room were also designed with a large group in mind. He could barely imagine the idea of a dozen beautiful wet women in the shower room, lounging on the benches and fogging up the watered glass wall #orwhateveritscalled. Damn. Hugh Hefner must be rolling in his grave, thinking of this place.

    He came back out of the bathroom and patted his thigh twice. That was the signal for his guns to change form. Katya and Vytke shimmered into existence, and immediately scampered through the suite on their own examination tour. He sat down on one of the couches and watched as they exclaimed over various features he hadn''t noticed. Life was good, he reflected, as he released the snaps on his vest and pulled it off with a sigh.

    "I''m glad you found a good squad," Katya said as she finally came over and joined him.

    "They seem like a good crew," Vytke agreed from across the room where she was peering out the window. "And they have a shooting range in the back yard! You should take us out there for some fun later."

    "After some fun in here of course," Katya purred in his ear.

    "Of course," Blaine opened his arms and both women cuddled up to him. Today was a good day, and showed no signs of slowing down.

    "Hey man," Troy walked in without knocking and Blaine almost hit the roof. "The crew is about to go back into town and hit the bar. Coming?"

    "You know what... I think I will."