Emmett opened eyes and found himself surrounded by pink walls, submerged in a viscous fluid. A mask kept the liquid out of his eyes. Attached to it, a tube led up to the tank’s ceiling. Before panic set in, the liquid drained. He sank to a kneeling position and panted.

Why did the game developers insist on a stupidly realistic entry sequence? Why couldn't he just magically appear in the world like some of the other mainstream games? He looked up at the small metal door in front of him. Mila peered through the viewport. She stepped back as the door opened and a medical tech hosed him down.

The freezing cold water jolted Emmett to his feet. "I hate this fucking part," said Emmett. He’d gone through this ordeal too many times this month. Reminders of his failure stung more than the hose.

With the shower done, Emmett stepped out of the pod and accepted the robe Mila held out.

"I didn't think you’d meet me here," Emmett mopped up his face with the sleeve of the robe, “at the pod.”

Mila gave a professional smile, but the strain in her eyes suggested genuine concern. "We don't often do these types of things. Your satisfaction is pretty important to us."

"I'm not exactly satisfied with this body," said Emmett. His new throat burned, making him envy the players with the APRS turned on. "Are you aware of my prior profession?"

Mila narrowed her eyes. "I am. We didn't think you'd be particularly pleased with it, but this is what we had on hand." She waved her arms in front of her. "We can't get you through the initial character creation process without a new account. You can just alter the body later when you have the money."

Emmett sighed through his teeth. "Fair enough. I might not even go down that path again."

"Why take the path that led you here?" Mila glanced around the room. The other tech left, leaving them in a dull white room with a few pieces of monitoring equipment. Emmett took a moment to take her in. She had the same bob cut as before, but her age lines stood out even further. Maybe it was that look of concern drawing them out.

"Who knows? By the time you can afford genetic alterations, you might like this body."

An antiseptic smell burned Emmett’s sinuses as his shock wore off. He let out guttural hacking sound.

Mila winced. "I take it your brand-new sinuses are pretty sensitive?"

"That's an understatement," gasped Emmett as he walked towards the door. The new body sequence was designed around the APRS. Players felt none of the horrible sensations when coming out of the tank. Not even the smells! They just watched a movie through the eyes of an actor doing all the suffering for them. Emmett stumbled over to a sink and hacked a moment before talking again.

"What else do you have for me? I take it I get more than the usual newb handouts."

Mila caught up with him and opened the door. "Most of your assets were seized in the transaction, but we kept a few of your items in a lockup across town."

"Where are we?" Emmett stumbled down the empty hall. His new muscles needed to break in or something. "And what things do I have left?"

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Mila let him put an arm around her for support. "A few of your most used items. A couple of weapons. Some armor kits. And one of your combat cars. Oh, and we’re on the west side of Breaker District."

Emmett felt some of his muscles ease. Starting players needed years to afford a combat car, months at the minimum.

"Any linkware?" asked Emmett.

Mila shook her head again. "I'm sorry, but we can't preserve any of that with a reset."

Without any Certification Points he couldn't use his old linkware anyway, but those assets led to his biggest success. He fired up his link interface. A bare-bones display overlaid itself across his vision. As fresh meat, he only had access to basic scans and damage reports. He tilted his head to get a look at Mila. She lacked a link signal, identifying her as either a player that cut her signal, or an interesting NPC.

With the massive NPC population in Cyberlinks, only some of them had developed personalities and capable intelligence. But a few here and there got a nice processing boost, making them harder to distinguish from real people. They always had a few tics though. The biggest giveaway was their repulsion to those with a link. They referred to players as link riders.

The two staggered over to a locker room. Mila read off a number as Emmett made his way around the bend, his hand along the wall. He set himself down on a wooden bench. The moment of privacy took the edge off.

Without the APRS, Emmett needed the break to remind himself this was a game. He literally switched off the shield that obfuscated the unpleasantries of reality. Basically, he played in military training software. With stat points.

Mind clear, he opened his locker and took out a set of clothes and a padded backpack. He donned the oversized T-shirt and cargo pants before scrounging through the pack. Inside he found a Glock 34 holstered to a thick belt. Next to that a plastic box held smartplugs for his ears. He clipped the weapon to his belt and stepped out of the locker room, feeling lighter as his muscles activated. Mila waited for him.

"You look a little bit better," said Mila. She stood with her hands behind her back and looked Emmett up and down.

Emmett allowed himself a smile. "You guys couldn't spare me a soft armored vest?"

Mila pouted. "We left you with more than enough money for basic equipment."

She led the way to the building’s front lobby where Emmett finally saw sunlight. Stepping through a set of double doors, Emmett felt the rest of the tension in his body give way as he looked up to the high ceiling. Sunlight sparkled off a crystal chandelier, leaving streaks across Emmett's new vision. Beige walls replaced the sterile whites of the medical rooms.

"So, how much did you guys leave me?" asked Emmett.

Mila walked past a receptionist, ushering Emmett to a private office in the corner of the lobby. She closed the door behind them before answering. "A little over $10,000 cash. That's what a highly skilled new player could amass in a few weeks." She looked up for a second. "Your remaining assets are worth around 100,000. It you wanted, we could seize the rest and give you the cash value."

Emmett sniffed as he waved her off. "No thanks. That’s fucking robbery." He knew the combat car alone would fetch three quarters of a million on the open market, but he couldn’t move anything big as a Rank Zero without raising suspicion.

"The banks came up with that number, not us." She took a seat behind the desk. "You’ll want to find a storage solution soon, then. We can only hold the assets in our lockup for about a month. You won't be able to afford it after that."

Emmett nodded. He figured as much. Even after a month, he won't be able to use any of those items. High-end gear required rank.

"Anything left to do here?" asked Emmett.

Mila pulled out a signature pad. "I just need you to sign these release documents, then we seal off everything here and pretend this never happened."

Emmett grabbed the stylus. "Is there a way anyone can discover me?” He stared down at Mila. “I pissed off some powerful people."

"Unless the admins open up an investigation on you, this will stay between us." She sent Emmett back the same stare. "We have far more on the line if discovered than you do. Nobody can push a button and start fresh. If you expose this reset yourself, we will come after you."

Smiling, Emmett signed the pad. "Of course you will."

They shook hands and then Emmett made for the door.

Pausing, Emmett asked, "I gotta know, are you linked?"

Mila leaned back in her chair. "I'll let you try and figure that out."