“Well, shit buddy, here it comes,” Ian said, stepping back from the ledge and stowing his sniper rifle. “Seventh-round supply drop, leaderboard update, and bonus round. You ready?” He knelt behind the balcony’s low wall, fresh mags on his belt.

  “Yeah, I suppose I am.” Doug glanced over the edge, gauging the three-story drop. He planted a spike into the wall with a pneumatic driver, unspooling a length of Unyielding class wire. Clipping it to his harness, he crouched beside Ian. “Escape route’s set. We holding here?”

  “Yep.” Ian pulled into a seated shooter’s stance, FN resting on his knee. Doug monitored his wrist-screen feed in silence until the low thump of rotors rolled in from the south.

  ‘CEASE FIRE / SEVENTH ROUND SUPPLY DROP / CEASE FIRE’

  Flashed across every HUD as five helicopters swept in low over the park, parachutes blooming behind crates. Players broke from cover, grabbing supplies before bolting back to safety.

  The leaderboard updated:

  1. Oryx & TzuLau - 8790.5

  2. Koy33, ThunderNutz & Seba - 5108

  3. The(o) - 3258

  4. T-3 - 3109

  5. SaltyPug - 2876

  “And now we’re screwed,” Ian said with a dry chuckle. “How long before they find us?”

  Doug tapped through arena chat. “Fast. The top teams just marked our location. Koy, ‘Nutz, and Seba are already sending invites.”

  The countdown bled into their HUD: 10… 9… 8… Doug drew his new pistols, testing their weight. At zero, a red flare burst over the park. The bonus round had begun, fifteen minutes of pure PvP. No respawns until round nine. One death here, and you’re off the board for good.

  They stayed put. Defenses set, fields of fire covered. Ian watched the doors and roofline. Doug monitored cameras, until two figures began scaling the wall like 5.11 climbers. Like a Monkey skill, he guessed. In one fluid move, Doug stood, leaned over, and dumped three rounds from each pistol before ducking back. Sniper fire chewed the wall where his head had been, showering them in grit.

  “Woah, They’ve got us dialed in,” Doug muttered. Hash marks bloomed in their HUD, multiplier bumping to x1.75.

  “Yeah,” Ian said, scanning above. “Five mags left. After that, it’s pistol and blade.”

  Doug smirked. “Nothing wrong with pistols. With the Woo Clip mod and your spare ammo, I’ve got two hundy and ten rounds to play with. I’ll cover you.”

  The right side gatling turret spun up with a high-pitched whine. “Take the right one, Lefty,” Ian ordered, shifting to the balcony corner. Doug leaned his body around the corner and pointed the pistol in his left hand at the corner and waited. The turret was a deterrent, but for most well versed PVP players, a nuisance rather than a problem. A small explosion was heard over the gunfire and the turret stopped firing a hash mark fading into Doug’s HUD.

  “Prox mine,” Doug said with a wicked grin. Sure, the turret was a nuisance, but it was also a distraction, as the unfortunate player had just found out. Doug still trained his pistol on the corner and held his stance knowing it had to have been more than one player in the assault.

  The left turret fired, then went silent, no hash mark. “They’re not idiots,” Ian said. “Good. I like a challenge.” Doug winced. ‘Hubris, idiot.’ Grenades clinked nearby, twin flashes at the turret bases, the buzz of EMPs. Smoke grenades followed, cloaking the balcony.

  The last thing Doug had noticed on his wrist screen was three shadows from the lit doorway halfway down the building. “At least three on your side,” he told Ian, holstering his other pistol and moving to stand against the wall the corner was on while pulling a pair of specialized NVG/TVG glasses from his belt pouch.

  He slipped them on and clipped them in place behind his head then redrew the pistol. They looked like a superhero mask and that is why Doug liked them, they fit the persona. Doug settled into the shadow of the overhang and stilled himself, nearly disappearing.

  Ian dropped on his own goggles, the world glowing in thermal blues and greens. The barrel of a rifle edged into view, one clean shot and the hand was gone. The player screamed, collapsing. Ian finished him with two more rounds. A hash floated in his HUD, Ian shot two more bullets into the stone railing to slow any other players down who were coming and grinned, ‘That kill will be cool on my feed,’ he thought. He noticed Doug shift out of his peripheral vision and held still.

  Doug tensed, then slid behind two more players as they rushed the balcony. One pistol under a chin, the other aimed past a shoulder, two shots, two kills. Using the corpse as a shield, he spotted a fourth heat signature and dropped him with a headshot. Multiplier jumped to x4. Spinning back towards the wall he pushed the corpse away so as not to foul the wire he was attached to.

  Ian gritted his teeth, time to keep up. Ian waved Doug back, letting his rifle drop into its sling. He thumbed the arming studs on two small spheres, counting under his breath as he sprinted forward. Bullets chased his leap, boots hitting the stone railing before he pushed off, sailing backward. He lobbed the grenades mid-flight, landing hard on his back as twin detonations ripped the path apart. Two more hash marks lit his HUD. Heatseekers never miss.

  Doug muttered, “Reckless,” as the smoke cleared, but kept it to himself. The park went quiet again except for the distant crack of rifles and the occasional scream. Four minutes left in the bonus round.

  Doug froze, hand up, palm out, tilting his head toward the hallway. Then he lunged, ramming Ian backward as the balcony door blew in, wood and fire spraying into the room. Doug had wrapped his legs around Ian as well, pulling him in a tight hold, bullets hissing past them as they hurtled into open air.

  Gravity stole Ian’s breath. He felt rounds slam into Doug’s armor, heard his grunt with each hit. The Unyielding cord went taut, yanking them to a jarring stop. Doug swung them toward a set of windows five floors down.

  “Kick!” Doug barked, and Ian timed it perfectly. Glass exploded inward as they crashed through, tumbling onto a dusty carpet. Ian unclipped Doug’s harness just as the brace ripped free above and clattered into the darkness. For a moment, they just grinned at each other in breathless, silent laughter.

  “That was fucking awesome,” Ian whispered. “How did you know?”

  “Didn’t. Just… reacted. Gamer sense?” Doug said, rubbing his ribs. His back was bruised and he probably had a broken rib. In the arena all debuff and wound information was turned off in each player's HUD just to add that bit of realism.

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Nice trick with the brace. You set it to drop after two hard pulls?” Ian asked his friend while he checked over his weapon and gear. “Shit, lost two clips, I’m almost out.” he said with a frown, pissed that he had left his ammunition pouch open. He pulled his pistol and checked it for readiness. Round chambered and safety non-existent, he was ready.

  “What trick?” Doug asked in bewilderment, now noticing the wire was not laying in the window and looking at Ian with a puzzled look not quite sure what had happened. “Did the brace let go?” He asked his friend as he slid himself along the couch and against the wall adjacent to the shattered windows.

  “Uh, yeah it fucking let go, you didn’t plan that?” Ian asked incredulously, his expression turning wry at the thought of falling to his death because of a mistake. “You’re the planner buddy, Burt to my Erny, Samwise to my ringbearer, you never miscalculate. What happened?”

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  “Um, well, that brace was, well...” Doug began, stammering over his explanation, not wanting to seem like a noob, “it’s not, um... well... see, when I designed it, I had some...”

  “Out with it man!” Ian said in exasperation, his ire quickly rising at the fumbling excuse.

  “Yeah, hang on,” Doug held out his hand to quiet his friend, “see, I designed it to hold five times my weight, the unyielding class of the cord being more than up to the task. I forgot to design a mount that could take the pounding, so...” he trailed off wincing, expecting an explosion of anger that was bound to come his way.

  Ian silently glared at his friend, his lips thinning into a hard line and brow furrowing. He raised one finger and pointed at Doug. “You,” he started quietly, “you didn’t design the mount... to...,” he giggled like a teenage boy, “to... take the pounding!” and giggled again, bending at the waist and holding his hand over his mouth to stop the burst of laughter.

  Doug watched his friend with surprise. Ian took gaming very seriously and this kind of mistake usually threw him into a rage. To see him giggle over a turn of phrase was unusual to say the least. ‘Something is up with him, he’s being too nice.’ Doug thought while he faked a chuckle with his friend and said in the middle of his laugh, “Yeah buddy, take the pounding.”

  Ian looked at Doug and he was surprised to see real mirth in his friends' eyes, ‘I could be wrong though...’ he considered silently and asked, “so, what's the game plan?”

  Ian glanced at Doug and was surprised to see genuine mirth in his friend’s eyes. ‘I could be wrong, though…’ he considered, then asked, “So, what’s the game plan?”

  Ian checked the timer in his HUD. “Little over three minutes left. By now they’ve probably got a bead on where we went. So… what do you think? Time for some SBD?” He let his FN drop into its sling and reached over his shoulder, drawing the Blade of the Daywalker from its sheath.

  “SBD it is.” Doug holstered his pistols and rolled his shoulders loose. True to his chosen persona, he didn’t draw a weapon, he was the weapon. They both flicked their eyewear to night vision and slipped deeper into the crumbling apartment, hugging walls and keeping to shadows.

  Approaching the front door, they froze. Footsteps approached, fast, but with that careful ‘combat quiet’ only trained players managed. Doug tilted his head, listening, then held up five fingers… then six. Ian kept silent, but the sour thought crossed his mind, ‘Sniper must’ve seen us hit the window and called it in, fucker.’

  Ian pointed to a recessed coat nook for Doug, then retreated into the kitchen entry himself. A quick hand signal, running fingers, slash of the hand, pointing at Doug then fist, told the story: Let them engage me, you hit their flank. Doug nodded and melted into the alcove, the Poof perk making him nearly vanish. Ian watched in grudging admiration. ‘Cool perk. Maybe I should, nah… that’d mean running away like a bitch.’

  They waited as the sounds of muffled voices bled through the walls and then there was silence.

  A sharp beep, then the door blew inward with a concussive whump, air and smoke swirling down the hall. Three players stormed in, rifles barking in three-round bursts. Two more followed, scanning for targets. One’s gaze swept right over Doug… then moved on, eyes sliding past him as if he wasn’t there.

  Two of the lead gunmen passed the kitchen arch. The third pivoted inside, firing short bursts, wall, cabinets and sink, clearing angles. ‘Man, it’d be so cool to take down Oryx or TzuLau,’ Koy33 thought, right before Ian’s blade slid through his skull, out his left eye. Ian eased the body down, pulled the blade free, and a kill mark flashed in his HUD.

  Doug flowed from the shadows, gripping the trailing player’s chin with one hand, the other locking around the pistol grip of his rifle. A sharp twist snapped Thundernutz’s neck, his finger jerking the trigger, three bullets slammed into Seba’s back. Both dropped, two more marks.

  Gunfire erupted as the lead pair spun, spraying the kitchen and hallway alike. Their mags ran dry almost in sync. Clips dropped, new ones halfway home when death arrived. Doug exploded forward. He slapped T-3’s rifle wide, punched him in the throat, then followed with a stiff arm shove and a Spartan kick that launched him out the broken window screaming.

  Ian’s blade blurred, severing SaltyPug’s rifle and half his hand in one stroke. The man staggered back, clutching the bleeding stump. Ian stepped in, grinned, and flicked the sword, SaltyPug’s head tumbled free. Two more kills.

  “Well, that was fun. And hey multiplier’s up to x4.75,” Ian noted, glancing at the timer. “Look at that… twenty-one seconds left.”

  A sudden boom cut him off. Ian staggered, tripping over SaltyPug’s corpse. Doug spun, pistols snapping up, ammo mod primed. Both .45 rounds hit The(o) dead center, and detonated. The upper half of the player simply ceased to exist, a spray of white crimson in Doug’s NV.

  Holstering, Doug dropped to Ian’s side. The hole in his shirt was over the sternum, armor dented deep. Doug jammed a stim into his arm. Ian’s eyes snapped open and his hand locked onto Doug’s bicep. “Is that fucker dead?”

  “Yup. Literally blew him away,” Doug said, nodding toward the pair of leg stumps in the doorway. “How you feeling?”

  Ian rubbed at his chest. “Feeling like fucking some shit up. Shall we?” He sheathed his blade, strode to the open window, and pulled a rappel line from his pack, tying it to a support pillar. “Want to do the rest Erny style?” He stepped into a harness, buckling tight.

  Doug mirrored him, tying off his own line. “Glory hole it is,” he replied, leaping out the window toward the ground below.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two rounds later both men sat on the top of the fallen obelisk in front of the burned out Metropolitan Museum of Art. Hundreds of zombie bodies littered the space around them. Doug’s hands ached from constant shooting with his new, more powerful pistols, and Ian was streaked with blood from his sword work. Koy33 and his companions sat with them, still in awe, not only were these guys the game’s developers, they were also absolute monsters in the arena.

  “Dude,” Thundernutz said to Doug, “this is gonna sound weird, but getting my neck snapped by you was an honor.” He held out his fist, and Doug bumped it back.

  “Yeah, man,” Saltypug said to Ian, “you beheaded me. That was fucking cool!” He touched his neck unconsciously, as if checking it was still there.

  “Shit, if that’s the highlight of your life, you need to get out more,” Ian said, grinning. “Actually, no, scratch that. I’d have loved to meet the asshats who made my favorite games and try to kill them.”

  Doug laughed. “And that’s why Oryx and I have a rule. Any time we win a tournament or arena match, we share the winnings with the top players and anyone who helped us get there.”

  “You’re kidding,” Seba said flatly.

  “Nope,” Ian said, finishing a quick string of commands on a floating keyboard. A cargo plane roared overhead, five crates tumbling from the back on parachutes to land neatly in a row in front of the obelisk.

  Ian smirked. “You earned some plastic and loot for getting your asses kicked by two old guys.” He glanced at Doug. “Shall we, Tzu?”

  “We shall, Oryx.” Doug nodded, and both men activated their logout sequences. Doug waved as his avatar shimmered away. Ian gave the others the finger, then pointed to the crates. ‘Get your shit,’ he mouthed before vanishing.

  ~ ~ ~

  Back in Ian’s lab, they opened their eyes and adjusted to the real world again. Doug grabbed the water bottle waiting for him, taking a long drink. The TIER session had left his body aching, neurons firing like he’d actually fought for hours. ‘I’ll be feeling this tomorrow,’ he thought.

  Ian sat up, reaching for the espresso waiting on the side table. “Tom is the shit, man. Always gets the timing right.” He raised the cup in salute. “We need a cloning program, because I can’t have another executive assistant. The dude’s the best.”

  Doug studied him. “Ian, what’s up? Ever since we saw Chernobog you’ve been… nice. Too nice. You didn’t rip into me for the rappel mount screw up, handed out extra loot, and now you’re gushing about Tom. Love it, but it’s not you.”

  Ian’s expression iced over. He slammed back his espresso. “What’s that supposed to mean, not me?”

  “It means you’re acting out of character,” Doug said evenly. “It’s a lot of generosity all at once.”

  Ian snapped, “Maybe I just liked spending time with my friend. Ever think of that? We’ve been buried in code so long we’ve barely talked. Playing reminded me what we used to be like.” The edge in his voice softened into something closer to hurt.

  Doug exhaled. “Shit, Ian… I’m sorry. Things have been insane, Eclipse launch, the accident, getting Mavis…” His eyes went wide. “Fuck. Mavis!”

  He bolted back to the gaming couch. “Navi, log me into the avatar tutorial and testing construct, sync with Kamehameha.” He closed his eyes. ‘Hope I’m not too late.’

  Ian watched, bemused. ‘Didn’t think it’d be that easy to get him off my scent.’

  While he’d never wish anyone to be in her position, Mavis Hudson was proving a perfect distraction and, by proxy, keeping Doug off the trail of Chernobog. He’d have to jump in once Doug was done and try again to get the AGSI to see reason. And if not? Well… maybe he’d just, what, replace it? The idea twisted around in his exceptional brain, he turned back to his keyboard and began making notes.