by Isaac Stone
Once again, everyone was quiet. The rotor noise made it hard to talk, so few people tried. It was a much rougher ride than he’d experienced on the plane, but the helicopter flew at a lower altitude and moved a lot more as it went along. Kurt found it impossible to sleep while the chopper continued on its way. The ground scenery wasn’t much to look at either.
He was a bit relieved when the speaker announced their arrival at Team Deathmatch headquarters. Kurt looked down at the ground and saw a few edifices break the barren New Mexico landscape. He counted three windowless buildings, several dormitories and a glass/steel building that had to be the administrative center. It appeared to him that no one left the center very often. Even the road into the center terminated in a gate and security guard.
Once on the ground, they were hustled into the glass/steel building by professional greeters. They didn’t have any time to take the sights in, which Kurt assumed was the plan. As he was rushed in the building, Kurt saw another helicopter descend from the sky just as the one that took them to the center was leaving.
Once again, he needed to present his coupon to a steward of some type. The man took it from him and compared the data on Kurt to what was in his computer.
“I’ll need your bag,” the man told him.
“Why?” Kurt wanted to know.
“It will be moved to your room,” he explained. “We’ve already assigned you a place. Your bag will be there for you after the orientation.”
“When does that begin?”
“In a few minutes. Yours was the next to last group. One more and it can begin. We try to keep things efficient around here.”
More greeters led him, and the others, down a long, carpeted hall and into an auditorium of some type. Kurt found a seat and leaned back. Everything was so rushed, but he was eager to start the game.
The lights dimmed and the casual background chatter ceased. Kurt watched as a man of Middle Eastern origin walked up the podium and looked across at the crowd. A faint spot light shone on him in the auditorium that smelled of new carpet.
This had to be the famous and mysterious Rashid.
“I want to thank all of you for responding to my invitation,” the man, who wore a business suit, said to them. His English was perfect. “You were all selected as the Top Hundred players in the country. I’m sure people who play Team Deathmatch outside the borders of the United States are disappointed, but I wanted to give back something to this nation which has graciously empowered my enterprise to survive and thrive.”
Claps from the audience.
“You will find in your individual rooms a booklet which describes the Killstreak scenario objectives and how you score points. This is a new form of the system we’ve used over the past three years, but it’s still in the development stage. You won’t find a lot of information on the Heads up Display, but all of you showed the ability to improvise and advance, so I don’t think this will be a hindrance. Most of you will be assigned to a squad, but some of you have the ability to team up with whomever you want. This was done to test the different ways the game will be played. The game modules are full-suit, which all of you know how to use, with more enhancements. You’ve each been assigned one and will be introduced to them tomorrow.” He paused to give it a chance to sink it inside.
“Games start promptly at 8 AM tomorrow,” he spoke again. “I suggest all of you get a good night’s sleep. Dinner schedules are in your game packet in your rooms. One of my aides will be happy to direct you to a room.” He then turned and left the stage.
Before anyone could applause, the lights came on in the auditorium.
The attendees looked at the blank stage for a few seconds in wonder. Rashid was supposed to be a very private man, but they didn’t expect this sort of thing. Finally, someone stood up and looked around. At the top of the auditorium, this fed into the main floor of the building, stood several bright and young greeters. Between them lay folders on a table.
“Mr. Al-Sayed is very busy today,” a young woman called down to them. “He regrets that he can’t spend more time with everyone, but here is your introductory packet on the table. There is an individual one for everybody. Each packet has your name on it, your room number and the squad to which you were matched. Not everyone is in a squad, so make sure you read carefully.”
With the rest of the game players, Kurt left his auditorium chair and made his way to the top of the hall. By the time he reached it, there was a small mob around the greeters as the attendees were busy finding their folders. It reminded Kurt of some trade show he’d attended years ago, but wasn’t as confused. Everyone knew they had a place to go and a role to fill.
He thought a few faces among the other players appeared familiar, but it was hard to tell. Over the years, he’d seen contenders come and go. The world of the online games was difficult once you reached the higher levels. Team Deathmatch specialized in tournaments of skill that favored people with fast reaction times. You could have a perfectly quiet swamp or desert in your view, and then the air was full of gunfire and explosions. Kurt learned to hit the turf or see the dreaded “You are Dead” notice pop up in your view screen.
He opened his folder and saw the schedule for the games, with the first “mission” taking place tomorrow. Dinner was at six this evening and he hurried to find his room, which was on the same level as he was now. He wanted to get a shower and be in the dining hall on time to see if there were any other announcements.
He noticed the lock on the door was keyed to his retinas. Just to test it, Kurt let the door scan his eyes. The door popped open and he shut it behind him. There was a click and he heard the door lock as he entered the room.
Kurt was in his room before he noticed they hadn’t assigned him to any particular squad. In the section of the folder where the “fire teams” were listed, his was blank. In some ways, this was fine for him, as Kurt didn’t want to be assigned to any one team. Too many people he didn’t know were here and, in the extreme player mode, a person could be killed from friendly fire. It might be hard to prove, even with everyone watching all over the world.
His room resembled any standard hotel accommodations, though certainly on the nicer side of the spectrum. One large king size bed and a shower. Some cabinets, a small refrigerator and a screen built into the wall. He noted his luggage was deposited already at the foot of his bed.
Kurt made his way to the dining hall after he’d unpacked his things and put them away. He saw there was a note from the director of the Team Deathmatch facility that let him know his cellular phone would be held until the games were over. This didn’t surprise him. The forms he’d signed over the Internet specified no outside communication was allowed while he was in combat mode. He’d brought his phone along just in case they’d slipped up and forgot to check for it. They hadn’t.
He chose a blazer for the evening. Some styles stayed relevant over the years and he didn’t have the social cues to keep up with whatever was popular at the moment.
As before, the air smelled of new carpet and construction. The facility was built in multiple stages, from what he could tell. The building in which he walked was part of the last phase of construction. Even when they arrived, he could see the shuttered earth moving equipment. Quite possibly, the company had plans to do more construction. Money was no problem at the rate of the online game’s expansion.
Kurt scanned the faces that milled around the outside of the dining hall for someone familiar. He couldn’t identify a single one of them with any degree of certainty. Once you logged into the game, all you saw were computer simulated shapes and names, which appeared over them. In some versions, the specifications of each appeared too. Therefore, you might see “Joe Gonzalez, tactical issue, night vision upgrade”. The problem with such information was that it made you stop and read it when there were more important things to keep in mind. Such as the sniper in the hills or the grenade which exploded two seconds ago. Kurt tended to glance over and remember what he needed to kn
ow. He preferred the extreme scenarios where you didn’t get too much information.
While he waited in line with everyone else, Kurt decided to read one of the brochures made available to the chosen few. This one was entitled Killstreak: a New Format in Interactive Gaming. He began to read it and was shocked at what it said. Somehow, the exact conditions of the tournament hadn’t hit him. This was something far beyond anything he expected.
Instead of manipulating a simulated puppet in a computer network, he was in control of a robotic warrior. When he attached the simulator suit and dropped the screen display on the helmet, Kurt would be in control of a biped humanoid robot. At least it appeared to be vaguely human from the brochure. The robot’s body would match his movement for movement. The opposing force would have the same selection of robotic warriors controlled by a human team. If it were struck hard enough, he would feel a sensation through the suit or helmet. Take enough hit points and the robot would shut down and become “dead”, the same in the computer simulation. However, he would not see the enemy as robotic warriors. The brochure explained the scenario would adjust the appearance of the enemy in his display based on that specific scenario. Instead of robotic warriors, the Ares Artificial Intelligence system would allow him to see the enemy as “Nazi Zombies” for the upcoming conflict.
Kurt mouthed the words “Nazi Zombies”. Then he looked up and saw two faces from his past.
At last, there were people in the hall he knew. He strolled over to the pair as they talked and chatted.
Jesse Arkansas came from a background similar to his. At 21, she was something of a legend in the online game world. She was a famous sniper. When Jesse wasn’t behind her console shooting demonic entities from a simulated rock pile, she could be found winning cosplay contests. She stood there in a black backless dress and heels. Needless to say, she was the source of plenty of attention from the other players. It didn’t seem to bother her and she found it useful as a way to distract people who wanted to take advantage of her. Kurt noticed her long black hair was tied into a braid. She was a little on the tall side. She had brown eyes to match her light Middle Eastern complexion.
The other person he recognized was Lavon Harmon.
Lavon, a woman of 23, was one of those who hit the professional gamer class quick. She’d found a sponsor early on, which made some kind of sports drink, so Lavon didn’t have the money issues that plagued many of the professional gamer class. It was one thing to maintain your level of skill, another to find a way to pay for everything you needed. Her starting point was a tactical loadout most of the time. She stood there talking to the other woman as Kurt made his way over to both of them.
Both of the women were legends in the Deathmatch world for their ability to rise to the top with a speed not seen since the games began. Kurt thought it might have something to do with their working class backgrounds, which made them as much anomalies as he was, given that most people in the hot shot club were upper class elites, or at least the children of such wealthy citizens. Somehow, both of these ladies had avoided the unplanned pregnancies and dirt bag boyfriends that plagued so many other women from where they came. Each had an incredible level of focus that allowed them to stick with a game scenario until they finished. It wasn’t easy starring into one of those screens for hours at a time. Even with the water and food tubes you could purchase to stay on target, it was too easy to lose the concentration needed to stay with the game. At the higher levels, one mistake could get you and your team “killed” in a second.
“So how long have you two been here?” Kurt asked them as he slid up to both. The women turned around to face the new addition to the crowd outside the dining hall.
“Too long,” Jesse told him. “I see you finally found your way to the chow line.” She snickered at her own joke.
“Hope they don’t keep us out here for the rest of the night,” Lavon grumbled. “I’m tired of the delays in the schedule. I thought we’d land and go right into battle. But no, we have to get stamped and filed first.”
“Wined and dined, same as it ever was,” Kurt commented. “So do either one of you have a team assignment for tomorrow?” He was hopeful they didn’t.
“Nope,” Lavon said, as she looked him over, satisfied with what she saw. “How about you?”
“I’m a free agent,” Kurt replied. “And you, Jesse?” Once again, he hoped big.
“They didn’t see fit to put me with anyone either,” she responded. Lavon and I were talking about that just now. I guess we have enough for a threesome.”
All of them had a good laugh over that one.
By the end of dinner, they’d agreed to fight as one unit.
“By the way,” Jesse told him. “You get to be squad leader as neither of us wants that job. So shake off all that burn out, stash your angst, and take charge.”
Chapter 4
Kurt arose early the next day and made his way to the pick-up point by the entrance to the building. The game players were to be shuttled over to the VR center where they would be given their station for the duration of the game. Another greeter handed him a tag to wear at all times, as the VR center was the brains behind Deathmatch’s game empire. Kurt gave the pretty young woman a wink as she handed him the tag. Too bad, he couldn’t take things further, but his concentration needed to focus on the tournament in front of him.
“The game begins the moment you are zipped into your body suit,” an engineer explained to them on the shuttle ride over. Kurt shared a bench with his new comrades, Jesse and Lavon. They all listened to the details.
“Your entry point will be outside a major urban center,” the engineer continued. “The town is infested with Nazi Zombies and you need to kill them all to reach the town center. First one to reach the center and activate the tracer signal wins the game. Any questions?”
“What if we decide to bypass the Nazi’s and go directly to the tracer button?” Lavon asked. “Seems a waste to smoke a bunch of zombies if we’re trying to reach the town center.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the engineer responded with a knowing smile. “The town center is ground zero for the zombie infection and you’ll know it right away. There is no way any of them will survive with the likes of you going into the town. But don’t take it personally; these are all robots. Ares will turn them into the image of Nazi Zombies.”
“Why Nazi Zombies?” Kurt asked.
“Everyone wants to kill Nazi Zombies. Any more questions?”
“How do we find this building?” Lavon asked. “I didn’t think we could use the mini-maps in the heads up display.”
“Signs,” the engineer told her. “Signs in English all over this town. We couldn’t make it too easy.” He grinned in a way Kurt didn’t like.
The shuttle bus dumped them in front of a new building that stood on the outer perimeter of a fenced enclosure. Kurt stood up and exited the bus with his two comrades as the sun beat down on them. He looked at Apollo in the sky and asked for a blessing in silence. Kurt wasn’t a religious man by nature, but it never hurt to make an offering. Someone might be listening up there.
As he expected, Jess and Lavon captured plenty of attention as they left the bus and made their way with him across the gravel and to the building. He tried to keep his mind on the mission, but Jesse captivated him. Both of the ladies did, honestly, but Jesse had something about her that seemed exciting. He wasn’t sure if it was the innocent young girl vibe she gave off or her big brown eyes. He watched plenty of men turn and look at her, some bumped into the people in front of them.
“Watch my ass for a change,” a man grumbled who pulled his foot back.
Everyone dressed down for the event. Since they all expected to suit up the minute they were inside the VR center, it didn’t make sense to overdo it. Jesse had on a tracksuit and Lavon wore a tennis skirt for some reason. Kurt stuck with a sweat suit and didn’t think about it again.
It took the three of them a few minutes to explain to one of the
conductors that they wanted to fight as a separate unit. The people inside the VR center didn’t seem to find this odd, several people made the request already. Once informed, all the conductor had to do was pull out his tablet, make some notes and direct the trio to another handler. Kurt suspected that allowing some of the player to go solo was intentional, just to see how these little partnerships and fire teams came together organically amongst friends and new aquiantences.
“Just go with him,” Kurt and the women were told. “He’ll direct you down to the area where the teams assemble. I don’t know why they want to put people together like this since you’ll all be operating those bots at a distance anyway.” The three of them were ushered into a side corridor.
The room they were shown was empty. It was equipped with three skinsuits, which hung from a sling mounted into the ceiling. Helmets for the visual display also bobbed from the ceiling as they entered the small room. There wasn’t much of anything else in the place.
Place your clothes in the baskets on the floor,” they were told by a speaker in the wall. The room is under surveillance in case anyone has a medical emergency. Don’t worry, your privacy is respected.” The voice sounded electronic, which they all expected.
Kurt pretended not to notice as the two women stripped down to their underwear and slipped into the skinsuits. He managed to get into his too. Once inside the suit, he attached the lead from it to a plug in the wall. He felt the suit vibrate. It made a few adjustments to his form and hummed a bit to let Kurt know it was operational.
He turned and watched the other two women go through the same procedures. Jesse’s suit extended a bit over her ample cleavage when she zipped herself into it. The suits could fit anyone within reason. Lavon gave him the thumbs up sign and pulled her helmet down from the ceiling.
Kurt adjusted the chinstrap on his helmet and pulled the visor down. Once it was over his face, the visor illuminated and turned into an introduction screen. The image of Rashid appeared in his face one it was powered-up.