[Streaky Killer!]
[Look Ma, No Looking]
The bonuses popped up in Reggie’s view, not inside the arena, but the announcer called them out like the attacks of an anime hero.
Health replenished, Lin was off jackrabbit quick. Laser bolts and missiles impacted all around her, but she skated by with nary a scratch. When another of the competitors came in from a side alley to take a pot shot at her, Lin jumped, kicking off one wall, then its opposite, back and forth until she gained a ledge three stories up and took cover. The back-and-forth volleys lasted until the poor sap dueling with her got predictable and popped out just in time to catch some sort of blue flashing grenade just as it went off.
[Peek-a-Boom]
The announcer echoed the bonus, then added, “We’re down to the final two! It’s duel-or-die time!”
“God, is this game made of puns?” Reggie muttered.
The kid beside him chuckled—a green-haired punk maybe fourteen or fifteen years old by his avatar. “No, it’s made of awesome sauce.”
Reggie rolled his eyes.
Down in the arena, Lin wasn’t letting up. She was half kung-fu princess, half Hollywood stuntwoman as she leaped, rolled, and spun around the battlefield. Her opponent was a cagey sort, more reserved and cautious and even more heavily armed.
Lin dodged a volley of swarming missiles.
[Missed Me by That Much]
Her opponent charged up an energy cannon and timed it for Lin to come around a corner, even swinging the massive weapon around at the last second to anticipate her circling behind him when he lost sight of her. The blast vaporized Lin—or at least appeared to. The image went pixelated as the energy ripped through before winking out.
[Wasn’t Me]
“Face me!” her opponent shouted.
“Face me!”
“Face me!”
“I hate it when they spam emotes,” the green-haired teen remarked.
Reggie cocked his head. “Huh?”
The kid snorted as if disgusted by Reggie’s noob ignorance. He envisioned stomping on the kid with Vortex to see if that might teach him a little respect. “Game like this, they can’t let the players talk. Might give away where other players are hiding, and it sure as fuck wouldn’t play on SlipStream without a censor warning.”
SlipStream… was that where Lin broadcast to her gazillion viewers?
[Serve That on Toast]
Reggie’s attention snapped back to the action and wondered what he’d missed. Smoke curled in the air, but he’s lost track of Lin’s adversary.
But Lin hadn’t.
[Behind You!]
[Ooh, That’s Gotta Hurt!]
[Sayonara, Sucker!]
And it was over. Lin’s opponent took a hellacious combo of timed explosives and unsuspecting shots from behind. Armor or no armor, that was more than the guy facing her could handle.
“Winner: Linchpin!”
Reggie didn’t care for the handle Lin used in Close Quarters Combat, but he had to admit, it was a compelling spectacle to watch. She’d have put on a great show even if she hadn’t won in the end.
But she had won.
Reggie fired off a quick message. “I’m in the spectator box. Got a minute?”
It was at least five minutes with no response to his message before Lin appeared in the lobby. She was still dressed in her CQC combat gear but had the helmet tucked under one arm. Beneath, the same avatar he’d gotten to know in Armored Souls—minus a blue hair dye that practically glowed—was dripping sweat. “’Sup?”
“Nice win,” Reggie said with a smile. He offered Lin a handshake.
“Cut the crap. You haven’t come watch me in anything since I left Wounded Legion.”
“You see the announcement about the Ragnarok Showdown?”
“The what?”
“The big Armored Souls tournament. Platoon on platoon. I can’t imagine that they haven’t been cross-promoting it in all the other games.”
“Oh, that. Yeah. I watched the trailer, but it was right before my charity stream for the Digital Dreams Children’s Fund. Must’ve gotten lost in the noise.”
Reggie was taken aback. “I didn’t know you did charity fundraising.”
Lin shrugged. “With my subscriber base, it’s kind of expected. My marketing guru says I need to maintain three to four a year to ensure subscriber loyalty. But whatever. You still rolling with Chase?”
“Yeah,” Reggie confirmed. “Me, Chase, June, Frank… just one spot empty to put the old platoon back together.”
Lin rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re coming to me to fill out a roster spot? You must have five hundred foot soldiers to pick from.”
“Well over a thousand,” Reggie said offhandedly. “But I’m still here asking you.”
Lin paused with a thoughtful frown on her face. At length, she shook her head. “Sorry, Reg. I’ve got an audience, and they’ve got expectations. I could still keep my ranking in CQC up and slip away for some nostalgia cookies. But that’s all it would be. Nostalgia cookies don’t pay my rent.”
Reggie swallowed his pride. He knew Armored Souls was waning in popularity. He had to think of bait that might hook Lin and reel her in. “It’s a tournament style. Imagine this game of yours five on five with juggernauts.”
“The pacing is way different.”
“There’s going to be a surge of interest in the gaming public.”
Lin raised an eyebrow—also dyed vivid blue. “Seriously? Which of us do you think keeps a pulse on the gaming public? Hint: it’s the one who has a marketing guru on staff.”
Reggie wasn’t going down without a fight. “OK. You’ve got a marketing guy.”
“Girl.”
“Whatever,” Reggie snapped. “Run my idea by her before you say ‘no.’ Make it a business decision. I bet you that Valhalla West might open up a few bonus doors that your audience might like to see behind.”
Lin was quiet again, eyes hard as she studied Reggie. “I’ll run it by Suzie. If she gives me the green light, I might consider it.”
Reggie departed before she had a chance to backtrack from even that tentative agreement.
Chapter Fourteen
Reggie’s palace in Jenova had a small, private casino on the 145th floor. The décor was Monaco class, but the current occupants were locker-room disheveled. Practice sessions with four juggernauts only served to accentuate just how screwed they were. In a preliminary elimination bout, there was a chance that they could beat some of the entrants that had joined based more on optimism than skill. Against any legitimate contender, a shorthanded platoon was meat for the sausage grinder.
But seated around one of the casino’s poker tables, all Reggie saw was future sausage.
“I don’t know…” Chase said reluctantly. “Would we really be better off taking Larson than going in shorthanded?”
Larson was the proud owner of a Titan, and he’d tell anyone who’d listen how great he was at piloting it. Not that there wasn’t a grain of truth behind the boast, but if Chase had an endearing sort of braggadocio about him, Larson had the unendearing sort by the transport load.
“I’m all for going with VazerSpace,” June said with a sigh. “Sure, she’s nothing flashy, but she knows how to use her Kintaro, and she takes orders. I’ve run plenty of ops with her as my second in command.”
“Can we get her a name change before the tournament?” Chase asked. “I’m not sure I can say that name with a straight face.”
“VazerSpace,” June said. “VazerSpace… VazerSpace.” She leaned closer with each repetition until Chase burst out in giggles. “Her real name is Sarah, and she’ll answer to it in combat.”
They were both competent enough pilots, both maximum level with well-equipped rides. Something just sat wrong in Reggie’s gut taking a filler player. “How bad would it be for morale if we take someone from outside Wounded Legion?” he asked.
“Bad,” Chase informed him. “But if we got someone legit�
�like a top-end freelance merc—we won’t get much blowback. Troops know that winning matters. If we pulled in some scrub from the smaller clans, there’d be a lot of ‘why couldn’t I have been the filler scrub’ going around. You pick a BubbaFett or a Lance-A-Lot, no one can really bitch about it.”
Frank grunted. “You underestimate the whiny snot-noses this game churns up.”
Subtly, without the rest of the platoon noticing, Reggie tapped at the air to bring up a menu.
[Faction > Roster > News (82) > Rewards > Info]
[Roster]
[Player Search: DragonLady]
[DragonLady: Offline 711 days, 18 hours]
He closed the menu.
“Well,” June said. “We’ve got to pick someone.” She slouched back in her chair and beckoned one of the NPC servers to refill her beer. “You’re sure Lin blew you off?”
“Looking that way,” Reggie admitted.
Chase squeezed his eyes shut. “Maybe I can take a crack at—”
“NO!” Reggie, June, and Frank thundered in unison.
Chase scooted back from the table, hands spread wide. “Fine. Just sayin’. I was willing to put my abundant charms to work for the greater good.”
“Lipwig,” Frank said out of the blue.
“Who?” June asked.
“Why?” Reggie added.
“Because him and Frank are drinking buddies,” Chase said. “I don’t think that’s really a great qualification. Although I will admit, that guy has the best mustache ever.”
“You lot keep saying we need a bit of paste and spackle to shore up this cracked platoon of ours,” Frank said. “Lipwig’s as good a wad of spit as any. He’ll go down fighting as good as any of ‘em.”
Reggie covered his eyes with a hand and rubbed his forehead. “What if we don’t want to go down at all? I’m still trying to figure out a way to win.”
Frank grunted. “And that’s why you’ve got a headache. What are they up to, hundred something teams? Might as well have a cham-peen drinker to help us drown our sorrows after our inevitable defeat.”
Beneath the table, Reggie tapped at the game menu once more.
[Faction > Roster > News (83) > Rewards > Info]
[Roster]
[Player Search: DragonLady]
[DragonLady: Online, Jenova, Nibelheim]
Reggie slid upright in his seat. “I think we’re about to meet our new pilot.”
“Huh?” Chase asked.
Reggie held up a finger to forestall questions and silence Chase.
They waited.
Timing had never been among Reggie’s strongest traits, and the wait grew uncomfortable before long. He kept his finger up, not yet willing to waste his chance at a surprise.
The elevator door opened.
Lin stepped into the casino wearing an outdated Wounded Legion uniform from three redesigns ago. She still had her practically glowing blue shade of hair, but otherwise looked just as she had before her last logout. With a quick glance around the casino, she took in her surroundings before focusing on the four of them at the table. “Well, this place is hopping.”
Reggie beamed. “Didn’t have anything to celebrate until just now.”
“Hey!” Frank shouted. “The prodigal princess has returned.”
June was already halfway across the room before the rest of them had their greetings out. She crushed a startled Lin in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“We saw each other like… a month ago,” Lin said, gingerly hugging back. “I didn’t die.”
June stiffened. “Right. Yeah.”
“This mean you’re in?” Reggie asked, reaching over to pull out a chair for Lin.
Disentangling herself from June’s embrace, Lin took the offered seat and kicked her feet up onto one of the empty chairs at the table. “Contingent.”
“Whaddaya mean by that?” Frank asked with one narrowed eye aimed Lin’s way.
“I’m going to need a juggernaut,” Lin explained. “On the quit options, I didn’t abandon the faction, but I did let them liquidate my assets to convert to Valhalla West mutli-game currency.”
Chase cringed. “That’s such a scam. It’s like dimes on dollars that they pay you for that.”
“Well, I wasn’t coming back, so it was something or nothing,” Lin said with a shrug. One of the servers brought her a martini that she must have ordered on portable while she rode the elevator. “You tycoons must have the cash to float me, and I’m going to need it.”
“Not a problem,” Reggie said with a smirk. “I still own Yulong.”
Lin blinked and coughed a mouthful of her martini back into its glass. “You what?”
“All your assets got liquidated,” Reggie reminded her. “I bought Yulong at auction. It’s in Hangar 5.”
“One problem down,” Chase said, resting his elbows on the poker table and his chin on his hands. “So, what about the real elephant in the room.” He looked down at her chest.
Lin took a long breath, not bothering to get offended because Chase wasn’t just staring at her breasts. The name plaque on her uniform read “DragonLady, Gunner 45.”
Frank grunted. “Better this one missing a few levels than any of them average Joes we were considering.”
“Power-levelling,” Chase pronounced. “We need to get you back in practice and up to the level cap.”
Lin crossed her arms, not quite covering the offending name badge. “My subscribers are all in favor of watching the death throes of Armored Souls with this tournament. But watching me level up will be boring as hell.”
“Off hours,” Reggie suggested.
Lin twisted to face him directly. “I have a daytime stream, too, you know.”
“You’re seriously on camera 24/7?” Chase asked.
“No…”
“Well, what hours have you got free?”
Lin scowled. “I still need to shower, eat, do laundry, go on dates—”
“You have a boyfriend?” Chase cut in.
“It’s a figure of speech,” Lin said. “Point is, I’m on stream—awake or asleep—for nearly fourteen hours a day. Every day. If I somehow do meet a guy I’m into, I don’t want to be half-starved, stinking, and wearing the same clothes I went to bed in. I need a little me time.”
Reggie stared her down from inches away. “How much?”
Lin swallowed. She didn’t turn away, but her eyes darted to the other members of the platoon before answering. “Fine. I’ll make the time. The camera can’t smell me. I’ll do costumes or something to keep things interesting and hide the fact I’m not showering every day.”
“That’s my girl!” Chase cheered.
Lin’s icy glare shut him up in a hurry. “I’m not your girl. I never was. Keep that straight. Suzie figures this Ragnarok Showdown business might be a gold mine. Even getting to the late rounds ought to jack my viewership into the stratosphere. If I can compete with Valhalla West’s coverage, I might double my subscriber numbers, at least in the short term. I can’t turn that money away like it was nothing.
“But so help me, Chase… you cross that line with me, and I pull the plug. Do it on camera, and you’ll find yourself a pariah across the Internet overnight. Got it?”
Chase nodded hurriedly. “Yes, ma’am.”
Reggie clapped his hands once to regain the center of attention. “Well, that’s settled.”
“Not entirely,” Lin said. “We still need a name.”
Frank scratched his chin. “What’s wrong with Alpha Platoon? Been fine for years now.”
Lin shook her head, blue hair flouncing with the motion. “Not good enough. We’re not showing up on my stream sounding like it belongs to a bunch of plastic toy soldiers from a Happy Meal.”
“Ouch,” Chase said softly.
“Don’t worry,” Lin said. “I had Suzie test market a few names.” She tapped the air, and seconds later Reggie had a message.
June began reading them aloud even as Reggie scanned the list. “Gra
ve Knights… Fatal Assassins… Iron Ninjas… Laser Badgers… Ghost Platoon—”
“Stop,” Reggie said. “Ghost Platoon. I kinda like that.”
Lin nodded agreeably. “Plays on the fact you’re a ghost in Valhalla West’s machine. Gives us a story angle if we put out any promotional materials.”
“Hey,” Frank barked. “I’m sitting right here! I’m dead too, you know?”
Lin held up her hands. “Whatever. Twice as much ghost to go around. Any objections? I can have Suzie start the ball rolling on team graphics and uniform design.”
“Does she even play Armored Souls?” June asked.
Lin rolled her eyes. “Suzie? Miss MBA? She only even has a Valhalla West account to work nights. But she’s got an eye for fashion, and she knows the game vibe. Don’t worry; we won’t look like runway models. Think more all-star uniforms.”
“What sport?” Frank asked with a suspicious glare.
“Doesn’t matter,” Reggie said. “We’ve got five members and a team name.” He raised his beer in a toast that the rest of the platoon matched with their beverages of choice. “To Ghost Platoon!”
Chapter Fifteen
T’was the night before the tournament, and all through the game, every player was stirring except for the lame…
Ghost Platoon skirted the edges of a blasted city ruin, sneaking in one last mission before calling it quits on regular Wounded Legion activities for the tournament. In just under fifteen minutes, the galactic map would lock, borders would be set, and interstellar travel would be blocked except to certain new player regions of space.
But they still had that fifteen minutes. And they had a mission.
[Primary Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 45/52]
[Secondary Objective: Destroy Broadcast Towers 3/5]
Ghost Platoon Page 6