I crawled in my tent and rocked back and forth, trying to make the sour feeling in the pit of my stomach go away and wishing that Steel’s patchouli scent would diminish. Getting dropped in a video game was bad, very very bad. If I was in a video game, I had a feeling I was in a dangerous one: BioZone City. The game came online six months ago. Whenever Kane and I walked by the BioZone building, we’d stop for a minute to watch the jumbotron piping in a live feed of the game. It was a gore fest. Players were burned to death, cut in half, tossed off of skydecks, shredded, pummelled, and liquefied. We always kept an eye on the entry to BioZone while we watched and never watched long. We’d seen BioZone thugs subject passersby to almost the same level of violence as what we’d seen on the jumbotron.

  As a second problem, I sucked at video games. And I’d never gotten to play any of the new ones. During breaks at school, we’d pull up an emulator and play something old like Chrono Trigger or Final Fantasy IV, but I was perpetually stuck. At the public library, I’d see kids on MineCraft. I’d beg mom to play, but she was not having it. “Library visits are for reading and learning, Will.” She once let me play Math Blaster, but that meant I had to sit next to the MineCraft guys while I blasted numbers. From then on, I stuck to the books.

  The bad feeling in my stomach and Steel’s patchouli scent weren’t going away. The only thing that could make me feel relaxed now was Z. I felt around in my tent and confirmed that my Z was gone. I cursed Steel under my breath, and then clicked on the triangle of dots again to see whatever was going on there.

  Congratulations! You earned experience! Not a lot, mind you. Those guys you killed basically killed themselves, after all. And by killing something, you can now select a class. Since you no longer have a game guide, good luck with that. Be advised, advanced statistics show that 100% of players that fail to select a class die painful and ignominous deaths.

  Homicide alert! You have now murdered two player characters! That’s brave since you should probably be working together to make sure you escape the first quadrant.

  Reward: Remember that burning sensation on your temple? The next time you pass a mirror, you’ll want to check out your sweet prison tattoo. Beware, this quadrant is controlled by various security organizations. Now that you’re a murderer, you could become of interest to any number of those organizations. If they see you as a threat, they could put a bounty on your head.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Oh, and you can also harvest one ability from each of the guys you killed, but since they only had one skill each, here’s what you get.

  From Grix: Weapon’s Lore. What a coincidence! He had the same useless skill you started with! That means your Weapon’s Lore skill boosts to level 2, making it slightly more useful.

  From Brix: Well look at this, Weapon’s Lore again. That boosts Weapon’s Lore to level 3, making it actually pretty good. Basically, you’re going to know everything there is to know about the weapon that cleaves your skull in two. Just to give you something to think about, if you had, say, started with Benningfield’s All-Purpose Battlefield Barrier and then immediately had it boosted to level 3, you’d have essentially drawn a Get Out of Death Free Card. Instead, you’ve got Weapon’s Lore.

  All of that was enough to piss me off. This stupid game had the same condescending crap to say that I’d heard for twenty years. “You’ll never make it, Will.” “You’re not as smart as the other kids.” “If you don’t try harder, you’ll fall through the cracks, and no one will even care.” I’d heard all of that and worse, and from adults, from teachers who were supposed to help me. And I’d made it this far. So, I wasn’t about to let some stupid video game system push me around either.

  I needed to think. I do my best thinking while walking, so I crawled out of the tent and headed for Triangle Park. I never carried my bat around, but I wanted it today. I tucked the bat inside my leather jacket and was on my way.

  A half block down the street, the bat came in handy. A punk kid flashed a knife at me. I pulled out my blood-covered bat and gripped it like a fastball was incoming. “Just back off, dude. Or I’ll kill you too.”

  The kid backed up and took off.

  I redoubled my speed and soon enough was approaching Triangle Park. Some of the best parts of the city border the Tri—museums, restaurants, the library on 8th Street. When the weather’s right, I’d walk by and swipe a treat from an abandoned plate. Otherwise, I spaced on Z.

  I walked two blocks under the shadows of the supertalls before I started feeling resistance, like walking through a wind tunnel, and I got a system message.

  You lack the clearance to enter Quadrant 7.

  I shrugged and kept walking, but I was no longer making progress. I was walking without going anywhere. And then I heard a chorus of hateful laughter.