"Okay guys, here's the deal," the man was annoyingly casual as he stood in the pre-match lobby, arms folded. What was he doing in Bronze 2, still wearing the starting grays? In fact, he seemed utterly default. His features were completely generic compared to the baby-faces that were popular or Blaine's own aggressive, chiseled look. Lookign around, Blaine felt his stomach tighten as he realized that three of the seven players in the match had this same uniform absence of style. That wasn't ominous at all.
They might look like generic NPCs and dress like newbies, but Blaine was certain they weren't new players. The way they stood, confident and relaxed... he'd seen it before. These guys were old hands in a young player's rank.
He refocused in time to catch the explaination. "So usually people bitch about smurfs, right? How we ruin matches for people? Well, we got tired of remaking our characters after reports, so we decided to try something different. Bribery." The man looked around the lobby and let that hang. "A thousand credits each. You leave the guns in the holsters, no fuss, no muss, no bother. Everyone comes out ahead."
Blaine frowned and shifted his own stance so he could put his hand on Katya's grip. He didn't quite understand the situation yet, but he could already tell he didn't like the smirking entitlement, the assumption that he could be bought and sold. He scanned the other players. A wiry guy with a red mohawk looked nervous, fidgeting with his gun belt. A girl with neon-green hair just looked frustrated. One big brute just folded his arms. No one was willing to meet the smurf's eyes.
"This is Tomaz," the smurf continued, gesturing to a lean, Hispanic man who sized them all up like a butcher choosing hogs. "He's ranking up today. You're going to help him. Just let him knife you and it's worth a thousand credits. I know this is one of your ranked matches, but don't worry, it's worth it. I mean, you can't take all of us in a team anyway, might as well get paid right?"
"Ahhh," Katya murmured into his mind. "This is a clan powerleveling a new player to their level. He won't earn the rank, and his skills will be subpar, but he'll be able to fill a niche in their team."
That was... sort of bullshit. This meant that this Tommy kid would end up Gold or better without earning it.... he'd have a whole harem of guns without even earning them. Scowling, Blaine let anger crackle in his response. "What if we say no?"
The speaker rolled his eyes. "Well, we just kill you. It's a deathmatch, but we'll be working as a team so you don't really get a third option. It's either die broke or die rich. You all want to get something out of it, right?"
The other players were starting to nod. Blaine felt disgust rising in his chest. How bovine did you have to be in order to agree to go along with this idea? Like cattle to the slaughter, butchered to feed some idiot…
"So, we'll start the match, nobody shoots anyone," the leader cut in on Blaine’s thoughts. "We'll all meet in the middle of the match. I'll be shooting into the air so you know where to come."
The last member of this group had been standing just outside of the lobby during this conversation. He stepped inside, and the world dissolved.
Match Starting.
A big box store full of grime and decay. The shelves were mostly bare, as if looters had come and gone several times. Blaine stood by denuded chest-style freezers. He drew Katya and chamber-checked.
"What do you think?" he murmured.
"You'll lose ranking points, but those can be made up tomorrow," she said neutrally. "It's not fair I know. You're good, you can handle yourself in a fair deathmatch, but there's four of them. And they're experienced."
"It's just... degrading," he said, reholstering the FNX. A gun popped twice and he started that direction. "You know it is. It's cheating. You should earn your harem and your bragging rights here. Why doesn't he get into a sex sim if he just wants pussy?"
"He's probably interested in the Avatar 2.0 NPCs," Katya suggested. "Unlike Star Nova, we've got fairly limited autonomy when it comes to how we engage with meisters. Our priorities are very clear, our meister's pleasure comes first. While we can choose to ignore that instinct, it's unpleasant. Like forgoing your dessert to eat extra food you don't like."
That made sense. "He just wants the most realistic love-slaves he can get."
"That, and he wants to play with his friends," Katya suggested as Blaine found the source of the sporadic gunshots. The customer service desk already had several players, all eyeing each other warily as if half-expecting things to deteriorate. There were two members of the Smurf team already there. One was reloading his 1911, the other was watching the randoms with a glock in his hand. If anyone drew, nobody was guaranteed even a kill in such close quarters.
"There he is!" Tommy said, emerging from behind the counter. "Okay, guys, line up, we'll do this quick."
"I'll go first," Blaine said aloud. The anger that had been sizzling in his chest was cool now, hot metal quenched in determination. He walked forward. Tommy grinned as he produced a bowie knife from behind his back. His lips moved, he was starting to speak, but that was suddenly very irrelevant.
Knives were terrifying the first time you faced them down. But this wasn't a strung out Marine in his barracks, just a punk kid. Tommy faltered as he made eye contact. The knife wavered, and Blaine pounced. The glock barked but missed him. Fire ran down his wrist as he slapped aside the knife. Old martial arts training kicked in as he slipped a flailing arm, his boot driving into Tommy's knee. The scuffle was over almost as soon as it had begun.
"Drop the gun!" Glock yelled, trying to aim at Blaine, who ducked his head behind Tommy. "Drop it! What are you doing, man?"
"It's just a game, boys," Blaine said, grinning from behind his victim. His arm was locked firmly around Tommy's neck, and Katya was screwed into the kid's temple. "Just a game, right? Just take the loss."
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Tommy squirmed. One of the other randoms reached for his gun. The smurf with the 1911 turned to point at him, so Blaine shot him first. Katya barked twice, and the smurf's head snapped around like a tetherball. His aim transitioned and Blaine let his instincts take over, stroking Katya's trigger each time the front sight settled onto another face. At this range he could hardly miss.
Bang, bang, bang, two randoms down. Glock Smurf was shouting something unimportant. The third random, that huge Tank build, spun in place with his jaw shot away and came up with his own gun, a massive revolver. Tommy's wild slash with the Bowie knife laid open Blaine's cheek, but the young man's attack was cut short by a roar from that hand cannon, his body jerking to the side. The massive .44 round blew right through his rib cage, side to side, and Blaine felt his body jerk as it winged him. Snarling through the pain he exchanged shots with Glock Smurf, dragging Tommy's corpse backwards as he sought for cover. That big revolver came up again and Blaine abandoned his shield to scramble for the big customer service counter. Everyone still alive was doing the same thing, dropping fire and seeking cover. Blaine ended up behind the counter first, and shot Random Tank again as the big man tried to pursue him. The huge warrior dropped to one knee, but struggled up again. Damn, respect, man. Blaine emptied the rest of his magazine into the stubborn bastard's chest. He sagged to the floor at last, and Blaine dropped back into cover.
Total time elapsed could be counted in heartbeats and hot lead. Three randoms, Tommy, and two smurfs were dead. That left Blaine and two enemies. Those odds were much better. He'd just doubled his chances for surviving this.
"Dude, what the FUCK!" someone shouted. "Like, what the FUCK man?"
"Kill that asshole!" the other shouted. "Fucking jackass!"
The customer service area was recessed, walls narrowing his field of vision. The two smurfs were somewhere out of his line of sight, lurking like wolves. Their mission had failed, he thought in grim satisfaction as he slapped a fresh magazine into Katya. "Come get me!" he roared, his challenge echoing from bare walls and concrete floors. "Come on! Come get this!"
Not exactly Homer, but his blood was up and he had never been a poetic man.
A few murmurs. He could imagine the questions. Did you hit him? I don't think I got him. Maybe it was the random. Yeah, he can't be high endurance, he's one hit easy.
His mind raced. Could he take them both? Realistically, no. He could only shoot in one direction at a time, and he no longer had surprise on his side. Did he want to die backed into a corner? Also no. If he was going to die, he was going to make the highlight reel on his own terms. So he stood up out of cover, threw the horns with his left hand, and laughed manaically through his ruined mouth as he blazed away. The smurfs came around opposite corners. He shifted aim but rounds crashed into his chest and he died before he hit the floor.
Fucking righteous.
Match Complete.
"You fucking newbie!" someone screamed as he stepped into the lobby, and he felt hands slam into his chest. "You stupid screwhead, you piece of shit what the fuck is your problem?"
The wall crashed into his shoulders hard enough to rattle his teeth. Blaine struck out at the maddened face furiously, landing awkwardly few ineffective shots. With a snickt his knife snapped open. He hadn't even thought about drawing it. His reflexes were returning, every nerve singing with adrenaline. The steel sang through the air as Blaine lashed out. His strikes were blocked by frantic hands. The pressure came off his chest and he dropped into a fighting crouch. Glock Smurf was forcing his way between them. A bikini-clad woman was fragging Tommy back, probably his gun holding him back. Blaine made to go after the angry man, but Glock Smurf blocked him again, hands raised in guard, weight low. Blaine grinned as their eyes met. He transitioned to an icepick grip, and the smurf's hands clenched in anticipation.
"Don't!" several voices screamed at once. There was more yelling, and now Katya's own small hands had a vise grip on his knife arm. She was trembling. That was strange. He was fine, his heart rate steady even as he stepped forward to put her behind him. Glock Smurf seemed a bit more reasonable than Tommy, but Blaine didn't feel very trusting right then. Icy rage was flooding his veins.
"Who do you think you are?" He snarled at these thugs. Katya was trying to hold him back still but he transitioned the knife to his left hand and tried to shake her off.
She clung on, her nails biting into his forearm. "Blaine!" Her voice cracked with fear. "Please! No!"
Her tone was an icy knife that cut through his fury. He froze, and she hastened to continue. "You'll get suspended if you fight outside of matches! Please, it's not worth it!"
He forced himself to take a deep breath. Carving a Columbian necktie into Tommy might be satisfying, but a ban would leave Katya alone. He couldn't just abandon her, even temporarily. His jaw clenched but he lifted the knife and made a show of folding it.
Glock Smurf nodded as he pocketed the weapon but Tommy had to mouth off. "Yeah," he shouted, finally shaking loose of his gun. "You'd better get out of here. Fucking pendejo."
"Get your boy under control," Blaine growled.
"Can't fight outside of matches," the Glock Smurf said reluctantly. "We don't need him getting banned either."
"Not much loss. The fuck's wrong with you? I'm just trying to play the game!"
"Get over it," Glock Smurf snapped. "The clan needs a new sniper, this is part of the process."
"Blaine..." Katya moaned. "Please... please stop!"
"Yeah, listen to your gun," Tommy straightened his shirt out. "Maybe in a year or two you'll catch up and we can do this again in Tungsten."
Blaine bit his tongue and watched as the young man swaggered for the door. Glock Smurf sighed and followed, leaving them alone in the lobby.
"Fuck," Blaine sighed as his icy control threatened to crack.
Katya rushed into his arms and he held her tightly, burying his nose in her hair. "Blaine... don't ever do that to me again!" she whispered, bracing small fists on his chest. "You can't leave me!"
His arms wrapped about her shoulders and he felt his body relax at last, the ice thawing out.
"You didn't have to shoot me, you know," someone rumbled behind him. Blaine felt his shoulders tense, his fingers tightening on Katya's arm, but this person didn't sound like a threat.
He continued when Blaine didn't answer. "I didn't like that shit either. You all right, man?"
Reluctantly, Blaine looked back over his shoulder. It was the big guy with the .44 Magnum, his arms folded, weapon holstered. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, trying to sound polite. He really thought they'd been left alone. Katya made a small hiccuping noise and buried her face in his chest before she stepped back, eyes clear. She gave him a small nod of assurance.
"But for the record," Blaine turned his full attention to the giant, "you shot me first."
"Wasn't trying to hit you. Tommy had that bowie knife still. I was trying to disable his hand."
"Yeah, all right," Blaine conceded. "What's your name?"
"Troy."
"I'm Blaine."
"It's a pleasure," Troy scratched his chin, nails rasping on action-hero stubble. He shifted his weight, moving more like a heavyweight fighter than a bodybuilder. Blaine could see the spikes and whirls of a tattoo curling around a bicep. The guy looked like a retro action figure, but his eyes were sharp and his gestures precise. "Well Blaine, it's poor form to team up in a free-for-all, want to run a team match together? Randoms always suck at this level, but one guy in your corner could make a difference."
"That depends," Blaine indicated the huge revolver with a flick of his finger. "Can you resist the urge to shoot me again?"
"I make no promises," Troy chuckled. "It might be hilarious."
Blaine snorted and glanced down at Katya. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she gave him a smile. "Another match sounds wonderful, actually. Maybe you can work out some of this tension."
"Yeah, okay," he jerked his head towards the distant receptionist's desk. "Let's go queue."