by Noah Barnett
"After inserting the magazine, rack the slide, and engage the safety. Then push me into the holster until it locks." She instructed and he did so. Charlie had a bunch of ammo left so he stuck the box into his tunic pocket.
"Where do I go next?" He asked sliding from the bench.
"Go outside, take a left, and follow the main road to the competition center. It's in the middle of the city, you can't miss it." She replied. Charlie walked up the street following other players.
It took about ten minutes of walking, but the Competition building came into view. It was oval shaped like a stadium and festooned with streamers all over. Advertisements for real-life and in-game products liberally dotted the structure. He followed several players as they made for the main entrance.
Just inside was a huge gaming club. Hundreds of people milled about watching the battles or talking shop. A single large screen dominated the area above a reception desk. This showed a fight currently going on. There was a smoke grenade spewing its contents into a trash filled alley. Bullets were flying back and forth between several people. A man slid through the smoke with an SMG spraying rounds. He managed to kill one person before getting shot himself. It was so cool, so very bad ass.
"First day?" A girl asked and Charlie looked down. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at the screen. She was slightly built with pink hair, pink lipstick, and a pink top.
"Umm, yeah."
"That's great! Would you like the run down?" She asked in a bubbly voice and he nodded. "Put your palm on the console." The receptionist said pointing to his left. A screen rested there waiting for input, and he pressed his hand to the screen face. It quickly read his ID and displayed his statistics.
_____________
Player ID - NA1339872
Registered Competition Name - None
Clan - None
Hours played - 1
Wins - 0
Losses - 0
Kills - 0
Deaths - 0
K/D Ratio - 0
Battle Rank - Bronze One
Player Score - 1000
Credits - 930
Next to this was a snapshot of his face, and Charlie was glad he'd made his character look like himself. The bubbly receptionist leaned over the counter. "Do you see these two lines?" She asked pointing to his battle rank and his player score. "Everyone starts in the bronze rank. There are five levels to this class before you become silver. They begin with Bronze One then Two, Three, Four, and Master." The girl said pulling out a sheet, which was a list of ranks by metal type.
Division Ranks are broken into five sub-ranks.
One
Two
Three (Skilled)
Four (Elite)
Master
Division Ranks
Bronze - New to the game. Only one pistol allowed with limited upgrades.
Silver - Earn one new contract. Can now use primary weapons and armor.
Gold - Third contract. May now buy grenades, explosives, and high tier items.
Platinum - Fourth contract.
Diamond - Six contracts.
Tungsten - Ten contracts.
"Ten contracts!" Charlie thought to himself. That was a lot of guns to keep registered.
"To rank up you generally just play the game. I should warn you that you can only play two registered competition matches each day. The developers want people to take their score seriously. Of course you can play as many casual games as you like. It's a good way to make money and gain skill at the same time. Kills and deaths aren't held against your player statistics." She said, before pausing to see if he had any questions.
"Am I going to get destroyed my first game?" Charlie asked.
"Don't worry, the system only pits people near the same rank together. Bronze players are limited to pistols only. Think of it like a warming up period. You get used to the game without the complexity of all the weapons."
"How long does it take to rank up if you can only play twice a day?" He asked looking over the sheet. Again he saw how many contracts a Tungsten ranked player could have, and all he could imagine was a bed full of beautiful women.
"Most players rank up in a week. Ten to twenty games is normal. Skilled players have ranked up as fast as two days. Wins and losses mainly determine your battle rank. Player score measures your combat effectiveness. Every time you kill an enemy you gain some of their points, you gain more if their score is higher than yours. When you're killed some of your points go to the other player. Player score will add weight for the system to place you in the correct rank." The girl informed him. Charlie took in a long breath to focus. This was a lot to take in at once. She continued after a few seconds. "It’s called BR for battle rank and P-Score respectively, but why don't we sign you up for a game?" She asked gesturing towards the console again. The girl leaned over and tapped a few menu items. Quick Death-Match and Quick Team-Battle appeared on the screen. There were more options below for custom competition games.
"Which should I pick?"
"Team battles are easier to win but a death match is more straightforward. Just kill everyone you see." She said in a cotton-candy voice. He selected ‘Quick Death-Match’ making the box flash several times.
"Match registered, enter game lounge 46," appeared on the screen. As the words vanished the girl clapped enthusiastically.
"Head to the elevator and good luck," she cheered pointing to the left. A set of ten tubes were set up in a ring, and people were getting in and out in waves. The first one opened and several people got out. Quickly he stepped into the tube. Instead of buttons there was a flat screen. When he touched the console, the doors closed, and the elevator started down. It opened on a private lounge with several couches and viewing screens where several players already waited.
"Please exit and wait while the other participants gather," A chibi robotic voice said, and he left the elevator. He'd barely made it ten steps into the room before a chime sounded several times. His vision began to darken then go black. Words appeared floating before his face.
[Match Starting]
Someone had taken World War III and dropped it on a quiet Minnesotan town. A red school bus was partially covered in rubble. Brightly colored streamers were strung across the street as if everything had gone to shit right before a parade. A thick red line was bisecting an old two-door Datsun. Approaching the line he found he couldn't move past it. An invisible wall prevented him from walking out of the area. He stroked a hand across the red and his fingertips went completely numb. Charlie flexed his hand in an attempt to regain the feeling back into his fingers.
The hairs on Charlie's neck stood up on end and his heart rate began to climb. Thumbing the button on his leg holster he drew the pistol. The metal was cold against his skin but the weight was reassuring.
"What do I do?" He asked nervously.
"I can't tell you that. In this form, I have no eyes to see, nor ears to hear. You are the Gun Meister, I am the tool." His weapon said into his mind. She spoke with an easy tone but Charlie felt the reprimand. "Well, you probably should take my safety off," she added after a few seconds. Charlie awkwardly thumbed the lever off the slide. He took a breath, then another as his heart continued to thump away. He needed to get his act together. At first, he crouched next to the rusty Datsun waiting in silence, and listened to the sound of the streamers flapping in the wind. The buildings nearby were filled with bullet holes. A restaurant had been gutted by an explosion spreading glass across the street. The red line inched across the car. It wasn't noticeable at first but the boundary was slowly shrinking, and soon he'd be forced to move. He decided the bus was a better choice and he climbed up on the rubble. It shifted under his weight making something inside the vehicle crash.
"Shit!" he cried rolling down the pile. The top of the bus caved in making a huge dust cloud. He stood from the rubble and started walking away. Street stores dominated this side of the road, and businesses had put out aging displays for the parade. Windows were filled
with empty and sagging balloons. He tried darting to one of the doorways but it was locked. Charlie continued from store to store before he saw the perfect place. A narrow alleyway led between two buildings, and he sprinted across the street.
As he got to the alley entrance, Charlie ran into another player already there. The man wore the same gray tunic and trousers as him, but had brown hair and an athletic build. The other player was maybe ten meters down the alley and did something unexpected. He started screaming at the top of his lungs as he charged at Charlie. A dark menacing handgun rose into view and a bullet whizzed past his head. In response, Charlie lifted his pistol and pulled the trigger as fast as he could. Again and again the gun barked. In the narrow passage the sound was deafening, like someone was boxing his ears with each pull of the trigger. A bullet missed his arm by scarcely an inch, then another hit the dumpster he stood next to.
It was pure luck that won the battle. His last bullet, by chance, struck the other man in the head right between the eyes. Blood and brains sprayed out coating the alley behind him, and the man crumpled to the ground. Charlie kept pulling the trigger even though the slide was locked back. For almost a minute he stood there looking at the corpse as adrenaline and pure terror filled his veins.
"Calm down, Charlie. The game will eject you if your heart rate doesn't drop." His gun said sharply into his ear. Charlie sagged to his knees and fell back onto his ass. The gun shook in his trembling hands. His gorge rose as he breathed in the acrid metallic tang of blood and gunpowder. Forcing his eyes closed, he turned away from the gruesome sight.
"I thought you said you couldn't see," Charlie said after conquering his urge to retch.
"My sense of touch is heightened. I can feel your pulse pounding and hear your words via the grip." She said to him. Charlie tried to calm his pounding heart by thinking of something. He needed a distraction, anything to take his mind off the bloody corpse nearby. A name for his weapon suddenly struck him.
"Elva," he said still clutching the pistol.
"What?"
"Your name will be Elva," he replied feeling his pulse slowly calm.
"I like it," she said after a few seconds. He smiled before finally noticing the pistol was empty. Clumsily he shifted the gun to drop the magazine. The white box of ammo fumbled from his grasp and fell to the ground. It broke open and bullets carelessly spilled out. Holstering the gun he started nervously slotting the large rounds into the magazine, and loaded the pistol as Elva had instructed at the shooting range. Why hadn't he bought some extra magazines? What a bone-headed thing to forget. That was something he needed to look into. After the weapon was charged, Charlie tried to put as many of the dropped bullets back into his pocket. If he was lucky he might need them later.
He was about to stand when Elva spoke, "Are you OK?"
Charlie paused looking back at the body. He hadn't expected such a visceral response to the fight, but maybe that was why the other man had started yelling. The war-cry had forced him forward. "What happens to him?" Charlie asked eying the corpse with distaste as it began to decompose.
"The person will respawn in the competition lobby," Elva reminded him. Charlie turned and left the awful stink behind.
"How many people are left?"
"I don't know exactly. There are ten players in each competition match. You killed one which leaves eight opponents left, if the others are all still alive." Charlie tried to remember if he had heard any gunshots. The fight itself was a blur in his memory, but he didn't recall hearing any before now. At the mouth of the alley, he stopped and looked both ways. The red bus was halfway down the street. The shops remained as before, ready to open for the day. From above an alarm sounded like a clipped air siren starting and stopping. It cut off after a few seconds.
"What was that buzzer?" Charlie asked.
"Half of the time remains. Each match at bronze level is only twenty minutes long. New players often 'camp' until fewer enemies remain. As the time runs out they will become more aggressive." Elva informed him. Her words heralded a short series of pops in the distance, which was followed by a loud boom.
"Twenty minutes doesn't seem like a lot of time," he whispered quietly. It worried him that the combat was only a few blocks away.
"At silver level it goes up to forty minutes. Gold matches can last an hour, at platinum it’s two. Diamond is four and tungsten are eight hours." Elva whispered back into his ear.
"Is that why there are only two games a day?" Charlie asked. His mind boggled at the time investment. A top ranked player might spend sixteen hours in combat. He honestly couldn't imagine doing that.
"Yes."
His body was still coming down from the battle cocktail so he crouched in the eaves of a bookstore. The red line was over the bus, and it was creeping visibly closer forcing him down the street. More gunshots rang out followed by a longer exchange. Charlie flinched against the doorway because of a cannon-like boom nearby.
Less than a minute later he saw a new player. It was a tiny girl with long teal hair and Charlie recognized her from character creation. She was the loli with no chest. Now she was dressed in a black tank top and desert-camo shorts. The player walked along the middle of the road slowly scanning the shops, and Charlie tightened his grip on Elva. If this were real life it would be slick with his sweat. He kept telling himself he could do this. The girl was just strolling along, not even running. She was maybe twenty meters away and coming closer. About a block away several pistols exchanged fire, and the girl stopped to turn in that direction. This was his chance. Charlie rolled out of the doorway and came up crouched. The small sights entered his field of view and he started shooting. The roar deafened him but he fired again anyway. As he did the girl fell onto her face. It was over in seconds and his slide locked back. After a long pause the short girl stood up and fear tickled his heart. She was completely unhurt as she drew her pistol. He threw himself back into the doorway of the store.
"Fuck," he cursed loudly. Elva said nothing to this as he ejected the magazine. He fumbled even more clumsily to get the loose ammo out of his tunic pocket, and his fingers struggled to fill the magazine. Around the corner came the girl with the biggest revolver he’d ever seen. It was chrome silver with a bore so huge he could see the bullet.
He stared at the rifled grooves before the girl spoke in a childishly high voice, "You should take the time to aim."
"I surrender…" he said weakly lifting his hands up. The loose bullets and magazine rolled off his lap to the ground. A girlish giggle escaped her lips.
"You're silly," she said pulling the trigger. For a second he'd considered lunging the five feet and grabbing the gun. Instead, something slammed into his chest, and he was thrown backward through the glass door of the shop. It was like someone had slugged him right on the breastbone. He lay there for a few seconds struggling to breathe before everything went black. The darkness lasted only a second or two then a door slid open before him. The sound of people talking reached his ears.
"That girl is a fucking smurf," a male voice complained.
"I know right! Why the hell do people do that?" Someone else groused.
Charlie stepped out into a small private lounge. Leather couches and plush chairs circled a set of television screens. The largest of which displayed a quiet Minnesota town. The teal haired girl was loading a round into her magnum revolver.
"What's going on?" He asked and four men turned to look at him.
"Noob," a gray-clad man sneered.
"This is the match lobby. We're stuck here until the game ends." The brown haired man said. It was the person he'd killed in the alley. The man didn't seem angry at all, accepting his death with tact.
"That doesn't sound fair," Charlie said thinking about the tungsten players needing to wait upwards of eight hours, but he supposed they could just log out.
"It's so losers can't cheat and give information away. People started bringing virtual cell phones into the match to help friends when they died." The
first said in that sneering tone like it would be obvious to anyone. A timer above the middle screen continued to tick down. It rolled past six minutes on its march to zero.
After his death, it didn't take long. Charlie watched the little girl kill everyone left. She did the same thing as before. Strolling along the street until something happened. Then she'd throw herself to the ground and get behind cover waiting for the other player to run out of ammo. She would then move in for the kill.
The red border forced everyone together into a single shop, and she cleaned up as each player ran inside. More people quickly filled the lounge. When she was the only one left, the match ended, and the elevator doors opened with a ding. Everyone, save the smurf, filed inside.
"At least she didn't clean sweep," the complaining man said kicking a side panel. Still, the girl did kill most of them. The elevator rose upward stopping at the main lounge. Music and conversation filled the air and the nine combatants quickly went their own ways. Charlie wasn't sure what to do next. He supposed he could play another match but his nerves said otherwise, so he started towards the exit.