It seems to be one thing after another tonight—from a store heist, to a deadly interrogation, and now a full-blown insurrection . . . all because of one boy. I guess it’s true that reality is stranger than fiction. Though in my case, I find it harder and harder to distinguish between the two.

Now I’m standing in a hotel room with two seeming demigods, held at gunpoint by a soldier with a pistol, while a civil war within one of the most powerful gangs in La Vega is raging on in the hallway outside.

Despite having more powerful guns at their disposal, Arturo with my sawed-off, double-barrel shotgun, and Maria with an assault rifle, the two Admins are just standing still while all this happens. Are they just too powerful to care, or are they really at a loss for what to do next?

From what little I know, Admins are powerful beings created by the system itself. But Arturo’s reaction to one of his men’s death and another’s betrayal almost makes him seem “human,” like he cares about his men as a leader rather than a god looking after his flock of mortal sheep.

Shit! Now’s not the time to think about this. I have to approach things one step at a time.

As I try to put my thoughts in order, the soldier fires his pistol at Arturo, who is still kneeling next to his dead subordinate. As the bullet leaves the barrel, everything around me slows to a crawl. Without thinking, I dive forward and push Arturo out of the way. Is all this stress-related, or is it the “corruption” Maria was talking about?

After regaining my bearings, as much as I can anyway, time begins to resume flowing naturally, and the man with the pistol asks me in a surprised and angry tone, “Why? You know who he really is. Why do you remain a sheep?”

He brings up a good point. Why did I save Arturo? Did I really have to? Even if I hadn’t known he was an Admin, he was just threatening me with my own shotgun. Why did I even bother?

Before I can find my answer, Maria fires her assault rifle at the man, blowing a bloody hole in his chest and knocking her own ass onto the floor, with a small burn on her cheek. The recoil must have been too much for her. Come on! It couldn't have been that strong. As if I needed any more proof that this girl comes from a soft, cushy world. Thank God, Arturo and I are lying on the ground.

Almost immediately after our overly dramatic assassin's death, Maria and I get back on our feet, and another soldier hurries into the room, noticing his leader lying on the floor. I don’t see any purple haze on him, so I can assume he’s friendly, or at least friendly to Arturo.

The noncorrupted soldier pulls his leader off the floor and onto his feet, urgently telling him:

“Sir! We need to get you out of here!”

“What’s going on?” Arturo asks the soldier, almost unfazed by all that is happening around him. Just when I think I can get a read on this guy.

The friendly soldier replies:

“Sir, something has come over half our forces. They all suddenly turned their arms against us.”

If I had to guess, I would assume that the 'truth' has come over the resisting guards. I can’t say I blame them. They just learned that the whole world in which they have lived is a lie perpetuated by their boss.

After the friendly soldier updates his boss on the situation, Arturo responds:

“Thank you, soldier!”

He then turns to Maria and me and says:

“All right, let’s mo—”

Before Arturo can finish his order, the friendly soldier lets out an anguished, painful scream. A former soldier turned Rotter came in from behind the friendly one, dug his sharp, golden-yellow fingernails into his shoulders, and starts going to town on his former ally's neck. Shit! It must have been a soldier who died in the battle, and everyone else was too busy to behead him.

I see the purple haze that covers Jumpy’s executioner. The corruption must have sped up the infection, considering the battle has just started a few minutes ago. Without missing a beat, Arturo shoots the Rotter, splattering the head of both it and his meal.

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Arturo then picks up the pistol on the floor and points it at the corpse of the man who tried to use it to kill him. Arturo then gives Maria and me an intense, emotional look, like anger trying to cover sadness, and shouts:

“Move! ”

He then shoots the head of his would-be executioner's corpse and rushes out the door.

Maria and I run out of the room, following behind Arturo, who runs to the right to reach a stairwell at the end of the hall. Despite rushing headfirst into enemy gunfire, Arturo makes it to his destination while Maria and I follow him. That crazy bastard.

After entering the stairwell, Maria and I see Arturo leaning against the wall, grabbing his upper arm with a pained look on his face, complete with gritted teeth.

“Art sir!” Maria shouts, concern edging her voice.

This concern, however, is met with Arturo barking out:

“Lock the doors, goddamn it!”

That seems to snap Maria out of whatever she is feeling. She then goes over to the door, where floating, translucent screens suddenly appear right in front of Maria. She taps it, causing a green computer code to ooze throughout the stairwell and cover the lock on the door.

I wonder if I can learn that trick now, given my special status. If I could, wouldn't that mean the enemy soldiers and Rotters could . . . Don’t think about it, damn it! I gotta learn to take my victories when I can. Worry about what comes next when it actually comes.

“The doors have been secured,” Maria tells Arturo. “But it won’t last long.”

“Yeah, I think you're right,” Arturo says with a painful expression.

Looking at his left arm, I notice a little blood dripping to the floor just below where he's standing.

Maria shouts:

“You’re hurt!”

Arturo responds:

“Thanks, I know!” the pain obviously not slowing down his sarcasm.

“This is the first time I’ve ever felt something when I got shot. Remind me to never do that again,” Arturo adds.

I really don’t know what to make of Arturo anymore. He’s not human, and yet he feels pain like one, both emotional and physical. Shouldn’t he be above all that if he were explicitly created to take care of us? Is he even the only Admin in this world? Can the rest of the gang leaders also be Admins?

While pondering these thoughts, Arturo asks me out of nowhere:

“So what’s your deal? You’re the first one in the server to be corrupted, so don’t you want to delete the girl and me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think anymore. Why the hell are we even here?”

Arturo just gives a quiet, pained chuckle before responding:

“You know, I love you, humans, but if there is one thing you all need to work on, it’s your narrow-minded view of reality.”

“What are y—”

Before I can finish asking what he means, Arturo interrupts me with his answer:

“To you, that man-made computer virus, and those corrupted by it, this is nothing more than a simulated reality that you were placed in against your will. You may think you are shattering a lie, but to me and the girl, this is reality. We are not sheltering a lie, we are protecting a truth.”

This is all too much to take in.

“This all sounds fascinating, but we need to get out of here,” Maria interjects.

She’s not wrong. I can think about all this when I’m not dealing with gunfire and Rotters rising from the dead.

All that aside, I walk over to check on Arturo’s wound before Maria says:

“Don’t bother. We Admins don’t experience pain the same way as you humans. For something to do real damage to us, they would need to access our data.”

I’m not entirely sure I understand what she’s getting at. From what I can tell, the Admins are invincible, and Atsushi’s corruption takes that away. That’s something I need to keep in mind.

After that talk, Arturo struggles to his feet, still clutching his arm and fighting the pain, forcing his words to come out:

“D-damn it! We need to move! I have to figure out if the rest—” Arturo, unable to take the pain, falls to his knees.

Despite seeing her colleague desperately holding on, it seems not to faze the teenage Admin as she responds plainly:

“Yes, we need to move. Any ideas?”

I then interject:

“Can’t you guys just teleport anywhere in the world?”

Arturo, still on his knees, answers me:

“N-normally, yes. But Maria over here is using all her memory to keep the doors leading to the stairwell secured. On my end, do I really need to say what I’m using mine for?”

I assume he’s talking about healing his arm, and from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like it’s getting any better.

“Okay. Then why don’t you unlock the doors so we can get—”

Once again I get interrupted, this time by the sound of loud scratches on the metal door, like nails on a chalkboard, reverberating throughout the stairwell. It seems like multiple doors are being scratched . . . by Rotters!

Damn it! Of all things, why Rotters?

“You sure you want me to unsecure the lock?” Maria asks me in a snide, sarcastic tone.

“That’s enough, Maria san!” Arturo reprimands his fellow Admin. “We need to get to the armory ASAP before we get overrun!”

I like the sound of that. But I have to ask before we start moving:

“What floor are we on?”

“T-t-the f-fifth floor! Prisoner’s quarters! The . . . armory is just . . . two floors below us,” Arturo answers, really struggling to get his words out.

Maria then asks what I am thinking:

“Can you really hold on for much longer?” in a concerned yet cold, professional tone.

“D-does that even matter at this p-point? I’m dead either—”

Just then, the bottom end of the door is sliced in half, causing Rotters covered in the purple haze to start clawing under it like dogs using a dog door. Seems whatever Maria did isn't working anymore.

Upon seeing this, Arturo stands back up, his face covered in sweat. Still clutching his arm, he once again shouts:

“Move! ”