"If you injure your neighbour, better not do it by halves." 

- George Bernard Shaw in Maxims for Revolutionists.

I saw his moment of death from the shot in the scope of the sniper rifle. My bullet pierced his neck with a splash of red. Before it could finish his life, a nearby Atom Inc scanner pulverised his cells and skin while simultaneously combining him back into the form he held only seconds earlier. He still held the knife high up in the air, but his regenerated shirt was now black with a massive red X on the back and front.

He looked pissed. Ohh, he looked pissed. To die is one thing, but to die from six blocks away? I bet he thought it was cheap as hell. Especially since he was about to kill his own target.

A too perfectly modulated to be a human female voice echoed in my earpiece, RIPieces you have killed ScrawnyElite. Your next target is Fraggled69.

Kneeling and braced for kickback, I swung the barrel down just enough to focus it on the kid my target had been about to stab. Focusing on his surprised eyes I breathed out and gently touched the trigger. The force of the shot stung my shoulder. Only seconds later blood splattered around a tiny hole right between his eyes.

Fraggled69 disappeared and was regenerated by a nearby ReLife Labs Monitor. 

RIPieces you have killed Fraggled69. Your next target is V4pidS1r.

I had a moment to revel in the kill, but I needed to focus. I needed to calm the shit down.

I still watched below and could see the stabbing victim stand up then jog over to the knife wielder. Both of them in the X-marked shirts. They walked up to one another, shook hands, and then embraced.

Deep breaths, calm down, I thought to myself.

Otherwise silent I huffed in delight. It'd been almost a month of being absolutely silent. As silent as I could be as I hunted and killed every one of my targets. I could talk when I was dead. 

Fraggled69 looked up toward my hiding place at the top of the car parkade and yelled, "Great shots! Good luck!" He was echoed by a clearly disappointed ScrawnyElite and then they trundled down the street laughing. No doubt walking toward a subway exit and their way out of downtown and the game.

Theirs had been good deaths.

I needed to move. No matter the excitement of getting that specific name, I needed to move so that whoever had my name would not get a good shot. I opened my rifle case and took apart the sniper rifle into its components and then slid my arms into the backpack straps. The small caliber P32 holstered at my hip was good to go. Loaded in case of whatever.

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Keeping low and nervously glancing back and forth constantly toward stairwell exits I quickly shuffled down the car ramps to the ground floor.

I had Interrogatorz. I only had to last until he had killed all his targets and when he came looking for me, I would be ready.

Staying alive would not be easy. Last year I went down mostly because I had not stashed food for myself throughout downtown. I was so hungry at the end that I was willing to shoot myself just to end it. Luckily top 100 was high enough to get some reward money so I could purchase a better arsenal this year. My dad had been angry with what I did with the prize money since it could have bought my mother one Rebirth cleansed of some of the cancer, but this year if I won then mom would be able to remove it all. And I had to win this year or next since I was aging out and the freebie ReBirths would stop as soon as I turned 19.

At the ground floor, I carefully stepped over the trip wire I had engaged across the width of the ramp. Regrettably I would have to leave it and its C4 shrapnel payload. Maybe it would take out a target and that would help another player, but save me another kill later on. 

The gun shots from the kills would send the others in my direction and I needed to be gone. A cement barrier that blocked actual cars from driving up the parkade on the ground floor was low enough to launch over. I chose the street opposite the death scene and with a quick scan I sprinted across the road to the safe darkness of the alley.

Low to the ground, I skirted around the husk of a personnel carrier. As I step up onto the curb, I tripped. I didn't see or hear the click of the bomb detonating or sensed the explosive concussion. I only felt the absolutely agonising moment of pain as my body exploded into pieces by shrapnel. 

When you ReBirth, there's a soft, gentle caress of feeling as everything comes back. All your wounds, the pain, the everything bad is gone. You are perfect, unsullied flesh just for that moment. The best version of yourself. Then the memories hit and you remember. You remember the agony, you remember the time you peed your pants as an eight year old, you remember the feeling of absolute humiliation that your own shrapnel bomb was used against you and you didn't even notice the tripline.

I stood next to a Fraser Products ReBirther and then looked down at the giant red X across my shirt and street camo vest.

You have been killed by Interrogatorz. Your final ranking is 47.

The anger from the death was nothing to the anger from hearing that specific hunter's name. 

I looked around, trying to spot where he was. That asswipe. That absolute piece of flying --

I saw a flash of bright neon orange and my eyes went up to it. A dark-haired boy -- no, almost a man -- stood in plain sight on the roof of a small blown-out convenience store. His black tshirt was tight across a lithe, swimmer's chest. The leather bandolier he wore held more grenades than I would feel safe carrying on my person. Tall and thin, he carried himself with the grace of a ballet dancer and the deadliness of an assassin.

He waved the orange fabric and stopped once he saw that I saw him. Like a bullfighter waving down his bull.

"Oh, in this scenario, I'm the bull?" I said out loud, aware that the cameras would pick up my croaky voice. It'd been the first thing I'd even said for a month.

He smiled at me a slow, shit-eating grin that popped out those two dimples in his cheeks. Even from this distance I could see him wink.

He then bowed in condescension and turned to run off. His laughter sent angry zings down my spine.

"Fuck you, Luke!" I yelled at him and gave him the finger.

Next year, Interrogatorz was going down.