Seeing Blackrune executed — murdered — was almost as painful as getting strangled by the Infiltrator. I fought back the sudden need to empty my stomach by repeating the mantra…

It’s only a game. None of this is real.

If only I could turn down my Immersion hardware so it wasn’t so damned convincing.

“Hey,” called out one of the mercs standing over Blackrune’s body, “dongwipe! Yeah, you. Pissing your guard trousers.”

I knew who he meant.

“Come ‘ere!”

With the eyes of six pissed-off mercs watching my every step, I trudged over. They were the sweatiest of high-level sweaties, no doubt. Legendary gear. Limited edition skins. The big one’s gold-plated revolver — still smoking from putting one through Blackrune’s head — was a Prestige reward. So, he reached the highest level at least twice over.

I stopped at the edge of their circle, just short of the large pool of blood that had formed under my patrol partner’s corpse.

“Your friend screwed us,” the big one said, holstering his revolver. “Shot two of our Clan, so their lockouts mean we’re missing a portal. An expensive portal.”

Thanks to the short avatar meta, I had to look down a few inches at all of them. But that did nothing to make their bulging muscles and Epic firearms less intimidating. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sorry.”

“Shut up,” he continued, pointing two fingers at my nose. “And now I’m locked out for TKing his ass inside the Hub.”

Another merc — a female with two purple braids falling over her shoulders — smirked. “Worth it.”

The big one gave her a sideways glance before turning his intense eyes back to me. “You owe us. And you don’t want to be in debt to Afterlife.”

“Afterlife?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.

All six of the mercs either scoffed or chuckled. Some did both.

“Newb motherfucker,” the big one said, shaking his head. “We’re the controlling Clan for Big O. Have been since launch.”

Purple Braids busted out laughing. “Look at his face! He really didn’t know!”

More laughter broke out behind me. Glancing around, I noticed we’d drawn a crowd. Dozens of other players had come to see these tools make an example out of Blackrune.

But Blackrune was already gone — at least he didn’t have to deal with it. I was catching all the heat for stepping on the wrong jack-booted toes. And I really didn’t want to owe this Clan any favors. The merc was right about that.

I pointed to Blackrune’s corpse. “Shouldn’t he be the one that owes you?”

The big one sniffed and wiped his sleeve across nose. “You’d think that. But now I’m gonna have to petition the GMs to have his ass banned. Your girlfriend won’t be around to pay off any debts.”

My heart sank. Not just because my first new friend in the game tripped dingus-first into a raw deal, but because these jerks had the power to affect the game itself. Bans? Just because some noob made a mistake? That was not on.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I’ll do whatever stupid thing you want,” I said, “but only if you don’t have Blackrune banned. It was an accident, and I’m sure he’d be happy to…beg for forgiveness. Or whatever it is you want.”

Every merc turned to watch the big one’s response. Their leader, for sure. And he just stared back at me, smirking.

The silence itched, so I kept going. “I don’t know how you expect me to pay you back anyway. I have no credits, no gear. Nothing.”

The big one barked a single laugh, his entire posture easing like it was a release valve on his anger. “Alright. Whatever stupid thing I want.”

I nodded.

“We’re gonna hold you to that.”

With some restored confidence from winning the negotiation, I forced myself to look each of the six Afterlife mercs in the eyes one-by-one. They had to know I was serious, even though I wasn’t so sure what I’d agreed to.

Purple Braids shrugged like she was getting bored with the whole thing. The others responded with varying looks of appraisal — or disappointment.

The big one slapped me on the shoulder, and I’m sure it was intentionally hard to prove a point.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said, his face set back to ‘full-on serious’. Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd with the rest of his Clanmates.

My eyes drifted down to Blackrune. Silent, still, and bloodied. But, hopefully, not banned.

I would definitely be having a chat with him. If I was gonna owe Afterlife a debt, he was sure as hell gonna owe me.

***

I linked back up with Jim and Tony in our shared quarters. Thanks to the speed of in-game gossip, there was no need to tell them what happened.

“Afterlife?” Jim had asked me before the door even closed at my back. “You’re bringing the Rat Kings the wrong kind of attention, man.”

That was followed by a lecture about noob behavior, being stupid, and how pissing off the controlling Clan can lead to everything from longer lockouts to permabans issued by GMs that are in their pockets.

I stared at the empty fourth bunk the entire time, knowing what I would say when the ranting died down. Eventually my friends got tired of pointing out my flaws and relented.

“I found us a new member,” I said, taking advantage of the lull.

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Better not be the idiot who shot a 99th-level friendly in the middle of the Hub.”

“It was an accident…”

“No way, bro!” Tony cut in. “It’s bad enough you made promises to Afterlife. Slapping our Clan tag on the shooter is asking for trouble.”

“I get it. But now he owes me.” I cleared my throat. “And it’s not like they don’t know he’s gonna keep playing. The whole reason I made the deal was to keep him from getting banned.”

Tony and Jim exchanged a look. It wasn’t promising.

After a minute of rubbing his temples, Jim sighed. “Is he any good at shooting Exos, or is friendly fire his only skill?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. He did make a couple of clean shots…before.”

“Screw it!” Tony said, flopping down on his bunk. “We can make him farm materials or something. He doesn’t even have to come with us on raids.”

Jim nodded. “True. But he has to go on at least one.”

“The initiation?” Tony asked.

“Yup. And Silky can go, too,” Jim smirked, but I could tell he still wasn’t too happy. “Least he can do is start at the bottom after getting us mixed up in this.”

I smiled. There was hope. “Sure! Let’s do it.”

I’d already done my Clan initiation back when the Rat Kings were playing the non-Immersion shooter Call of Honor. But if running their gauntlet was what it took to get things moving, I’d take on whatever they dreamed up in Meta Mercs.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” Jim said, “and this ain’t no PC game. It’s gonna hurt.”