I learned the downside of the catwalks real quick. Great vantage, terrible access to the main floor. It also gave the target a pretty good view of us, so Blackrune and I had to alternate between laying low and booking it when the Infiltrator in the lab coat wasn’t looking.

Luckily, the bastard’s path was pretty parallel to the catwalk itself. We only had to worry about losing sight of him in the crowd of players below, not so much him putting too much distance between us.

“Almost to the security door!” I said, slowing down at the edge of the dome. “You stay up here, Blackrune, and keep eyes on him in case he tries to duck out. I’ll run down, bag him.”

My patrol partner nodded before snapping his eyes back to the Infiltrator below. I shoved through the inner security door and down the stairs, taking three steps at a time. Sweat beaded under my guard helmet, and my palms got clammy as hell around my assault rifle’s grips.

By the time I burst out of the lower security door into the Hub’s common area, I probably looked like a sweating, shaking lunatic. But it was only adrenaline — and I didn’t care how it looked.

Grinning, I scanned the crowd. We were about to take down an Infiltrator on our first ever guard shift.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t see Lab Coat through the crowds of armed players that always seemed to be streaming from place to place under the dome. I waved to Blackrune to catch his eye, and he pointed down and to my right.

Hugging my weapon tight against my body armor, I strode off in that direction. That meant shouldering my way through a few crowds, but most of the other players seemed understanding that I was a guard on a mission.

Eventually, I caught sight of him when he strolled into an empty alley between a cantina and some kind of accessory shop.

Since he wasn’t the only character around in an Ouroboros lab coat, I popped him with the security scanner one more time to be sure.

Yup, still unregistered.

Shoving the scanner back into its belt holster, I took a firm grip on my rifle. A couple of quick steps got me within ten feet of the bastard.

“Ouroboros security! Stop!” I yelled, shouldering the weapon and placing the holographic sight square over Lab Coat’s chest.

The guy took a short step, then turned. He didn’t seem jumpy, but he didn’t look like he planned on freezing, either. Now that I could see his face, wrinkled and emotionless, the whole thing made me feel uneasy.

I clicked off my safety. “You’re being detained! Stop moving!”

Lab Coat tilted his head and smiled.

Then I unknowingly made the freaking huge mistake of blinking the sweat out of my eyes.

That split second was all the Infiltrator needed to close the distance. By the time I pulled my trigger, he’d grabbed my forward wrist and pushed my rifle’s muzzle toward the sky. I ripped off two shots before realizing I might be shooting the dome. Somewhere overhead, Blackrune was shouting orders — or expletives. I was panicking too hard to tell.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Split second thoughts flashed like strobes. Try to break his hold on my weapon? Go for my sidearm? Kick him in the goolies?

Lab Coat was much more decisive, and with a strike to the inside of my elbow, he disarmed me, kicked out my knee, and used my own rifle to put me in a chokehold.

Yeah, it was fast — he moved like a blur — and seeing as how I was still getting used to the Haptic Feedback, it hurt like hell.

Good thing the Infiltrator wasn’t as skilled at choking people as he was with kicks and jabs. I was able to at least wrestle the rifle off of my throat and keep him busy while Blackrune…wait.

What in the hell was he doing?

“Shoot him!” I yelled into the air. Not being in the position to look around and take stock, I had no idea where my patrol partner was. “Blackrune! Come on!”

Then he appeared around the corner in front of us. A Level Two savior, greener than beer on March 17th. Blackrune didn’t bother yelling — he just took his stance, aimed his rifle, and fired.

I knew he hit the mark when my rifle eased off my throat and clattered to the floor. Rolling forward over my knees, I snatched it up and turned sideways to face the Infiltrator.

The bastard reeled from the smoking hole in the front flap of his Lab Coat, but a couple of unsteady steps backward gave him the recovery time to charge, leap over me, and shoulder-check Blackrune onto his ass on his way out of the alley.

Between both of us, we must have squeezed off another ten rounds at our target, but none of them landed. No time to take score — Blackrune and I both ran after the bastard, our boots squeaking on the polished concrete floor.

Now, Lab Coat was the one shoving his way through the crowds, leaving us a wake of confused and cursing players to follow. Handy, but I worried that every one of them could potentially steal our target. I wasn’t sure about the rules when it came to non-guards taking down Infiltrators, but it wouldn’t be hard for some rando to put the pieces together and tackle him before we had the chance.

“He’s too fast!” Blackrune said, huffing and puffing at a full sprint beside me.

I didn’t answer. Lungs burning too much.

“Screw it,” he added, skidding to a stop and raising his rifle.

I barely caught sight of him taking aim — just enough time to leap out of the line of fire and yell something about holding his fire. Lab Coat was only one fleshy target in a sea of meandering player characters.

There was no way Blackrune could make the shot…

His rifle cracked three times, splitting my ears just as I stumbled off to the side. The shouting came next — a hundred players going nuts at once. The meandering turned into running and trampling in every direction. Before I knew it, six Ouroborus mercs in high-level gear were bearing down on Blackrune with their weapons drawn.

I stepped back further, letting my rifle hang from its three-point sling and holding up my palms. “Security issue, guys!” I called out. “We’re tryin’ to catch a…”

The biggest merc, an obvious portal vet, glared at me just long enough to tell me to piss off. Then two others grabbed Blackrune by his arms and dragged him toward a bloody body on the floor, now fully visible with the chaos dying down.

And it wasn’t a guy in a Lab Coat. It was a merc in high-level gear bleeding out on the floor.

I just watched, eyes wide, mouth shut. The Guide didn’t say crap about this kind of situation. Ten feet away, the mercs took turns yelling in Blackrune’s face. Then the big one put his pistol to my patrol partner’s forehead and fired.

It wasn’t real. I knew that. But it was so real.