“How long?” I called out between ragged breaths.

Keeping up with Blackrune was no mean feat. He was skinny, but he was quick — and he had no problems leaping over the crates and sandbag emplacements between us and his destination near the camp’s main gate.

“Thirty second respawn timer!” he replied without looking back.

I cleared a stack of ammo containers, splashed down in a puddle, and half-slid back into step behind him. A second later, Blackrune crashed shoulder first through the door of a high-tech quonset hut and disappeared inside the undersized hangar-shaped building.

Hot on his heels, I ran in behind, and found him already crouching behind some kind of desk with his rifle trained at the hut’s back door.

“This the spot?” I asked, breathing heavy as I dropped beside him.

My partner pointed two fingers back toward the way we came in. “You cover that door. Shoot anything that casts a shadow.”

“Where’d they spawn?”

“Outside the walls somewhere,” Blackrune replied, his eyes locked on the rear entrance. “They probably think we took over the towers, but this is a waiting game.”

Made sense. King of the Hill meant that we’d win by holding the camp for more time than Tony and Jim. They had a head start, but the longer it took them to find us, the better off we’d be. Some consolation as I took cover behind another desk in what must have been some kind of jungle field office.

Taking a cue from Blackrune, I trained my weapon on the front door, still flapping in the breeze after he nearly bum rushed it off its hinges. If these doors were the only way in, my clanmates would have a hell of a time getting through.

Just as I found myself catching my breath, rifle sights bobbing between me and the door, I heard footsteps. Running. Not that far off.

My breath caught again, and it burned behind my ribs like I’d just sprinted another fifty yards.

A rattling noise from behind me. I looked, then cursed myself. Someone was playing at the rear door, but I couldn’t let it pull my focus.

I blinked sweat from my eyes — another bit of unwelcome realism from Immersion tech — and a shadow floated through the space between the front door and its wrecked frame. I squeezed the trigger. Bullets tore through the door, splinters flying as the force pushed it wide open.

“Go! Go! Go!” came Jim’s voice from somewhere outside.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

More running. The rattling noise behind me turned into the raucous crash of a door being kicked open, the score accompanied by Blackrune’s rifle cutting loose.

Someone shouted — screamed, maybe — in the middle of it. But it wasn’t my partner, so I kept my eyes on my field of fire.

Reposition. It was like a voice in my head. Some tactical knowledge dropped on me by the game? That’s right. Basic training…the uploaded kind.

I crouch-ran to the next desk, making sure that if the enemy had spotted me, I wouldn’t be in the same place the next time they poked their head in.

Right on cue, another shadow darkened the light streaming in from the jungle ahead of me. This time I waited. Thumbed the fire selector to semi-automatic. Two breaths.

Jim’s head flashed around the threshold and I fired. Twice, right through the wall. Two new streamers of light joined the chaos, cutting in front of me like dust-filled neon tubes. Jim’s body crumpled forward, landed face first in the mud.

“Status!” a voice cut through. It took a second for me to realize it was Blackrune.

“Jim’s down over here!” I replied.

“One down over here, too.”

I heard a magazine eject on my six and I followed suit, pocketing the half-empty. Four full mags left, so no point in playing the counting game with rounds.

Thirty seconds to respawn, and there was no way Jim and Tony would rush the doors again.

“We should move!” I said.

“We will,” Blackrune called back, “but not yet. Go prone.”

I’ll bet he was thinking what I was thinking. If I were the enemy, I’d just stand outside and empty a couple of magazines into the hut. Let penetration do the work.

I pressed myself to the floor, trying my best to become one with the ground. Behind me, Blackrun low-crawled to the quonset hut’s wall. Made sense — they probably wouldn’t spray-and-pray that close to the edge of the building.

An anxious thought crept in. The quonset hut’s half-tube shape featured six windows. Each of them narrow and high up. Hard to see through from outside, but if someone really wanted to climb in…

The least of my worries, I realized, as a frag grenade landed — “tink, tink” — and rolled between me and Blackrune. While I was still wondering where the hell it came from, my partner lunged at it, grabbed the little black orb, and hurled it through the gaping hole where the back door used to be.

Another shout — this time it sounded profoundly confused — punctuated by an ear-shredding explosion. Besides the ringing in my ears, there wasn’t much but silence left in its wake.

Blackrune rolled back onto his stomach like he knew every move in the book, then flashed me a quick thumbs up. For the first time, I realized he was pretty damn good. Not just at the knowing, but the doing.

I grinned. Couldn’t help it. Thanks to this guy — this stranger, really — we weren’t just gonna pass the initiation. We were gonna absolutely destroy it. That was crystal clear, undeniable. Cemented into my brain.

Then someone cut loose with a heavy machine gun.