“Head home,” Mitch said. “You heard Mac—if Red Code gets ahold of us, he’ll drain our user data. You’ve got way more to lose than me. Everything you have, the Nefarious name and everything you’ve accomplished—it’ll all be virtual history if he gets his hands on you.”
“My teammates are more important than the team,” Dozer said, placing a solid hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “Besides, there’s more to life than just Skirmish. Have you even been paying attention the past few days? These new worlds … so many new weapons … so many different colors and flavors of things to kill. I mean—up until now, I’ve just been killing people.” She chuckled to herself. “It’s been a real eye-opener.”
“I’m with Dozer,” Fuse said. “Look at the data, Mitch. Half my time is spent outside of Skirmish already, building side projects with Mac. Worst case scenario, if we fail and need to start over, broadening my horizons could diversify my strengths. Plus, we’re the best team Skirmish has ever seen—it makes sense that we’re also the game’s best chance at survival.”
The group fell into silence, all eyes on Punch, the man with the most to lose. He had the fame and the following, the money and the sponsorships: a list of reasons that would make anyone crazy to even think about putting any of it at risk.
“I dislike awkward pauses,” Punch muttered, avoiding eye contact. “So I guess I’m gonna to start talking and see where this ends up … I know better than anyone that I’ve got some good shit going in Skirmish. Good. Shit. But as far as the game goes, if I’m being honest, I really don’t find it challenging anymore. And ... gonna do a virtual trust fall with you here … and I’m not proud of this ... I’ve actually been sandbagging like a mofo the past few months.”
“Sandbagging?” Dozer asked, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not my fault,” Punch pleaded. “The game’s become too easy for me. There’s just no rush anymore … I could play the damn thing in my sleep. So I did what any rational human being would do: I added a bourbon drip to my bio feed. Keeps a buzz going while I’m in gameplay, adds a little challenge to the same old, same old. Pretty baller idea, right?”
“You’re ... ” Fuse stepped up towards Punch, checking his eyes, “ ... you’re drunk right now?”
“Pretty much hammered,” Punch confirmed, gazing down the mountain with his hands on his hips. “One hundred-percent.”
“This explains many things,” Chu said, crossing her arms.
“Why still play the game if you need to weigh yourself down, asshole?” Dozer asked, punching him in the shoulder.
“The cash moneys, lady friend,” Punch said, rubbing his fresh bruise. “Plus, I do it for Mac. Guy’s like a father to me—to all of us, right? Can’t let a dude like that down. So, yeah, maybe it doesn’t make sense. But at the same time—”
“It makes sense,” Mitch said. “None of us are perfect. We’re all messed up in our own ways. Look at me—I quit a game that I can’t live without. I’m not in the arena anymore, but Skirmish is all I know. I can’t remember ever doing anything else. Without it, all I’ve got is … nothing at all.”
“You have Nefarious,” Chu said with authority. “You have this team, now that you have returned and are no longer a bitch.”
“Thanks, Chu,” Mitch said. “I think.”
“Looks like we’re in,” Fuse said. “So what’ll it be, Mitch? You’ve got an undefeatable enemy and the best Skirmish team in the history of the game behind you. What’s the plan?”
Mitch looked at the team—his team. “I think I’ve got a rough plan together,” he said, pulling out a code package. “Going to be rough in there. We’re going to see some serious action.”
“Should be easy enough,” Dozer said. “When we see red, we shoot. Piece of cake.”
The team huddled together, hands on shoulders, preparing for dematerialization back to Skirmish. Hopefully, not for the last time.
“We should definitely tell Mac what we’re up to,” Fuse said. “He and the rest of the Karma staff would surely want to know.”
“Nah, let’s surprise him,” Mitch said, activating the code package. “Mac loves surprises.”
With a flash, five beams of light lit the Nefarious Five into the air. Behind them, the game world of Star of the North—the snow-capped mountain top, the ruins below, and even the multicolored flags struggling against the wind—disappeared, never to be seen again.
THE SKIRMISH MANUAL:
A TEAM-BASED APPROACH
Roles and Responsibilities
* Demolitions * Bulldozer * Rover * Sniper * Leader *
LEADER
Responsibilities: Every team needs someone to call the shots—not just someone who has seen it all before, but a player that keeps the greater good of the team front and center.
The Leader might not always tell you what you want to hear, but a good one always has your best interests at heart. A good leader doesn’t only bring experience and a steady hand to the wheel: they always put the team, and others, before themselves.
A good leader is rare to find.
A good leader can make all the difference.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Good to See You, Old Girl
MITCH DIDN’T HOLD back his smile as he rematerialized back into the game, the world he knew so well. The landscape. The interface. The feel and weight of the Razor pulse rifle, ready in his hands. The welcome message he’d seen a million times before, but this time felt different; almost like it was hand-written, just for him.
TEAM: NEFARIOUS FIVE
SKIRMISH MISSION: CRESCENT RISING
FIVE (5) MEMBERS ENTERED
SKIRMISH - FIND YOUR NEXT BATTLE TODAY
Mitch stared into the battered, remote village that made up the first level of Skirmish. He knew every building and road and ammo dump in the place—each had been etched into the back of his brain, eroded from the wear and tear of playing the level mornings and nights, on official missions and just because. Countless run-throughs as a gamer and maybe even more as a tour guide. He could walk this level blindfolded and still score at least a 96%—maybe even a 98%—on a good day.
“Smells like home cookin’,” Punch exclaimed, drawing in a deep breath, his chest pressed out like a flexing gorilla. “Good to see you, old girl. Been too long.”
The familiar tones soothed Mitch’s nerves, but at face value, the level was by no measure a pleasant scene. Bombed out shells of buildings looking down on dirt roads. Enough overturned cars littering the side streets to fill dozens of virtual junkyards. Skirmish’s first level was designed to throw players right into the action, skipping the weight of backstory by starting the mission at the center of an active firefight, stranded in the middle of hell on earth and having to fight your way out.
But not today. Today, the streets were eerily quiet.
The team instinctively began to check their inventory and skill scores, some laughing like schoolgirls as they found everything back in place, right where it all belonged. A nearby weapons crate turned into a fast-paced swap meet, a flurry of weapons switching in and out, back and forth. Some team members ditched their less desirables and chose old favorites, while others were happy to grab from the discard pile. Mitch kept his place at the center of the road, watching.
“Never thought I’d be so happy to see level one,” Fuse laughed.
“Same as we left it,” Dozer added.
“Same, but different,” Chu noted. She walked with quiet steps to the nearest two-story building, disappearing into the darkness behind the open doorway.
Mitch knew the building well—he could draw the damn floor plan by hand. A tattered mattress on the floor, an assault rifle propped up in the southwest corner. A dusty set of stairs leading up to the second floor. It was a good starting point to see most of the city, and where he’d always told tour groups to find shelter once the level finished loading, and the bullets started flying.
Chu’s head popped out from behind the balcony’s concrete
half-wall, searching the surrounding streets with a shake of her head. “No one here,” she said. “Crescent Ridge is empty.”
“Must be the evacuation,” Fuse said, swinging his rifle back around his back.
Before Mitch could chime in, a new Karma Systems video chat window appeared front and center. He called the rest of the team over as Mac clicked his audio on.
“Welcome back, Nefarious,” Mac said. “Feels good to see you with a clear signal again. No time to waste, let’s get you back to HQ. We’re working up a rough plan now—mostly a containment strategy, but if we—”
“We’re not coming back, Mac,” Mitch said.
He watched the old man’s face drop. He could see Mac slide back, slinking down sideways onto one arm of his chair like a deflating balloon, rubbing deep at his eyes.
He had to know this was coming.
“We’re going after him,” Mitch said. “We’re the best shot you’ve got.”
“It’s a suicide mission,” Mac muttered. The resolve had left his voice. “You know that better than anyone.”
“I don’t know, Mac,” Punch said. “Red Code is good, but he’s never pissed off a team like us before. I actually kind of feel sorry for the son-of-a-bitch, you know? Nefarious is back together. Like a boy band reunion tour, except, you know, with a couple of chicks.”
“You haven’t seen the video feeds,” Mac said. “The power that Red Code has. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
“You’re forgetting something, old man,” Punch said, slapping Mitch on the shoulder. “You’re looking at the first billion-point Skirmish player, right here. Mitch has gone and unlocked more power than your little game has ever seen.”
Oh, my God, I forgot. How the hell could I forget?
Mitch’s eyes shot wide open as he selected his character summary screen, holding his breath. All his levels—strength, stamina, speed, etc.—were all maxed, the numbers next to each reading “INFINITY.” He tabbed through his inventory, finding a collection of weapons with more power than he’d ever imagined, a seemingly never-ending list of destruction, ranked by type and damage potential. It was even better than he’d imagined—everything a Skirmish player could ever dream of.
“I hope it helps,” Mac said. “I really do. Because make no mistake, Red Code will be looking for you. There’s a good chance he’s already hunting you now.”
“Good,” Dozer said with a huff, slapping a full magazine into her rifle. “Means we won’t waste any time trying to find him.”
Mac leaned closer to the screen. He blinked with heavy eyes, taking a long look at each member of Nefarious. “We’ve all been in the game, working together, for a long time now. A long time. I’m not going to pretend that I can persuade you.”
“This is wise,” Chu said.
“But if I can’t get you back to HQ, at least I can help you,” Mac continued, typing at a screen to his side. “Mitch—I’ve just granted you full access and admin rights to Skirmish. Shortly, you’ll see Red Code’s location on your scanner—we’ve built a beacon that triangulates his position based on his unique power signature. As admin, you can transport players to any level and any location. Stealth mode is available as well—blocks all trackers for you and the team. If you come across any stray users, please send them back here, back to safety. Better get to work—time to prepare the team for the biggest battle you’ve ever seen.”
Mitch switched his display to public view for the rest of Nefarious to see, selecting the weapons inventory. He cycled through his newfound Legendary arsenal, gifting items to any team member raising a hand.
“Damn,” Dozer said, switching her shotgun out to a MaxShot 35F rocket launcher—one of the rarest weapons in the game. She inspected the barrel with a shit-eating grin painted across her face. “This will do nicely.”
“And I’m sending in one last thing,” Mac said. “I know you’ve had your ups and downs in this department, but remember: you need all the help you can get today. Good luck.”
“What else could we possibly need?” Punch asked, snatching a flamethrower from Mitch’s list and giving it a quick test drive.
As the video chat window disappeared, a form emerged at the center of the group, its scattered edges slowly building to a single shape. The rematerialization process completed and a hush fell over the group. A mixed bag of emotions filled the air: confusion, shock, disbelief, anger.
Mostly anger.
It was Dak.
“Okay, team,” Dak said, hands up in a classic “I surrender” pose, dimples popping. “What I’m going to do here is get ahead of the conversation that we all know is coming. I understand—completely understand—that there’s going to be some bad blood here. Perfectly normal. Perfectly natural feelings. And I, for one, have already taken a good amount of personal responsibility for my part in creating those feelings.”
“I don’t believe it,” Dozer whispered, stepping back, testing the weight of her new rocket launcher.
“Who thought sending you back here was even in the same zip code as a good idea?” Punch asked.
“Guys—listen up,” Dak said. “I talked things through with Mac. This isn’t a big deal. Just a hiccup, a speed bump on the road to us doing what the Nefarious Five does best, and that is kicking some ass, am I right? Sure, I got spooked out there back in BlockJoyMagic, but it was just first-big-battle jitters. Could happen to anyone.”
“Never happened to me,” Chu snarled. “You piece of shit.”
“We’re not going to get anywhere with that attitude, am I right?” Dak said, holding out a fist bump to Chu as he flashed his trademark bright-white smile. The fist was returned with only awkward silence, and then quickly retracted. “Here’s the deal. You can take on Red Code, but you need your leader. That’s why I’m here! Think about it—think about the big picture here—this could be Nefarious’ greatest challenge, but also our greatest victory. We just need to stay positive and focused on the—”
“Hey, Spit,” Punch yelled out. “You tried out that new setting where you can send Skirmish users anywhere you want yet?”
“Not yet,” Mitch said, punching away at his new admin screen, selecting Dak’s user account, his finger hovering over the “EXECUTE” button. “But I’d hate to go into battle without testing it. New West Point protocol, you know?”
Dak aimed his smile at Mitch, his eyes beginning to show hints of worry, right around the corners. “Mitch. Buddy. You of all people get where I’m going from here. You understand the opportunity in front of us. Everyone, just remember, I’m here for—”
With a press of the button, Dak dematerialized, gone as fast as he’d arrived, with only a cloud of digital dust where he once stood.
“Where’d he go?” Fuse asked.
“Don’t care,” Punch replied.
“Hate that guy,” Dozer said.
“Literally the worst person ever,” Chu nodded, returning back to her rifle settings.
“Okay, now that we’re done with all of that,” Mitch said, “let’s get our plan together.”
“You’ve got all the goodness, Mitcherooni,” Punch said. “Let’s find this bastard and get to work.”
Mitch turned back to his new admin panel, combing through the bells and whistles. He clicked through to the “USER TRACKER” tab at the far end of his display. He brought up the details, seeing one player in the list, “EXTERNAL USER 1.” The detail tab brought up a summary of Red Code’s user stats: every possible skill point and setting were maxed out at top levels, the same as Mitch’s new stats. A map in the lower corner flashed with a beacon of red, pulsing every few seconds. It was a location that Mitch and the rest of the team knew all too well.
“The Square,” Mitch said. “He’s knee deep in the Trafalgar level. And I’m still seeing tons of users there. Goddamnit.”
“That’s a tough one,” Fuse added. “Any user there has to be a top player. Trophy hunters. Cash games. Serious Skirmish skills.”
“Well, what a
re we waiting for?” Dozer asked. “I’m ready to hand this guy his ass. He has no idea what’s coming for him.”
“A sleeping dragon is a pillow,” Chu added, slinging her rifle over her shoulder, “until the dragon wakes.”
“Anyone else starting to feel like Chu has a bourbon drip of her own going?” Punch asked. “But you know what? I like it. I like this team. Bad ass, absolutely bad ass, and back together again.”
Mitch circled every member of the Nefarious Five on his admin panel, toggling the stealth setting to ON, and then chose the “SEND TO:” option. The Trafalgar Square level was just one button press away. He took a deep breath, picturing Red Code in his mind. Mitch made himself a promise: it wasn’t going to happen again. Not this time.
“Nefarious Five, let’s head out,” Mitch said.
“Hands on shoulders?” Dozer asked.
“Don’t really need to do that anymore,” Mitch said, finger over the button. “That was just for code packages.”
“Yeah, but, what the hell,” Punch said, placing one hand on Mitch’s shoulder and the other on Dozer’s. The rest of the team followed suit, forming a human circle. “For good luck.”
“We need luck,” Chu added. “We will probably all die.”
The Nefarious Five dematerialized, watching Crescent Rising disappear from their sights, only to have the whisper-still, deserted dirt roads replaced with a new view: a scene they’d never forget.
THIRTY-NINE
Trafalgar
TRAFALGAR SQUARE WAS A WAR ZONE. Blackened shells of burned-out cars, flames licking through every door and window. The bodies of fallen Skirmish players, dead and gone, every ten, twenty feet. Trashcans and packing boxes and bicycles and anything else players could find had been piled into hastily made barricades across the square—last-minute resorts serving more as comfort than shelter. Scorch marks stained the white marble, some still smoking, winking with embers. The smell of panic was thick in the air, mixed with tear gas and burning petrol. Skirmish players screamed from alleys and hid behind anything they could find, searching for any glimmer of hope, any sliver of humanity. For any way out.
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