The crashing waves of the bay reflected the moonlight from above, like white streamers dancing in the wind. The breeze caressed Dolon's face and played with his hair, his clothes hugged him and there was a cool comfort in it all. It was a relief to be out of the heat of south Shoulderside and in the coastal coolness of Port Moonlight to the north.

The mission was a success. The rare item had been taken from Shoulderside Castle and brought to Port Moonlight where a ship would be found for passage to Churash. It would be difficult to travel freely from any other port, as Hurdland's coastal borders had strict port authorities and customs, and the Harlequins were in possession of stolen goods. Port Moonlight however had closed its docks to military and trade ships, and exclusively housed pirate vessels. This caused trouble for the locals, but the town leadership were bought and paid for by many unscrupulous organisations. Hurdland overlooked the pirate matter as long as any raiding was reserved for Churashi or Amaratese ships on the ocean. Due to the diverse and varied number of players at the port, the Harlequins did not stand out so much, and there was always someone willing to discreetly taxi a player or two, for a price. Niall had personally taken the task to find a ship, he wanted to choose someone trustworthy.

The morale of the group was high, they had outdone a rival team with this objective, the Winged Men, who were the usual team for retrieving such things. And now they would cement their place as the go to team for high risk - high reward quests in the eyes of the Churashi leadership. Stacey was especially pleased, as now he thought himself an expert burglar. Often touting how he should have left a calling card. Gerome, not one to take a joke well, quickly saw an end to that idea. Archer never took part in the conversation, which was usual for him, he was a quiet and lonesome person - hard to read.

The breeze died and the sound of the waves with it. Dolon took his last deep breath, taking in the salty air, and strode away from the wooden promenade he had stood on. The Harlequins had split up for the night, expecting to meet again the following day with news of a ship and passage to Churash. Dolon was thankful for the break, constantly on edge for being the mole that he is. He passed by drunken sailors and rowdy pirates on his way to the town centre, the sea front pubs and inns bursting with them. The smell of food and drink stirred up his hunger and he found himself hastened on his walk. I need to get this night over with so I can eat for real.

The wooden built town was a blur to him, the streets, the buildings and the people blended together. His tiredness was apparent as he made his way to the south side and out along a track that followed the River Spine up stream. Ahead of him was the Shooting Range, the school where the Pistoleer Job Class and all of its progressions were taught.

Here Dolon was well known as one of a handful of Snipers here. This made it difficult to hide his allegiance to Churash, the existence of the unknown Harlequins, and then his involvement with The Information Broker, who paid for the secret footage that Dolon forever recorded. Due to this, he had created the cover story of being a soldier for hire, a lone mercenary. This explained his travels and inconsistent meetings with friends.

Tonight Dolon would be visiting an old acquaintance who often taught at the Range, or that is what his story was. It was partially true, but his real reason was to meet with an agent of The Information Broker.

These meetings happened once a month at differing places. Agents of his employer used the meetings to inform information gatherers, like Dolon, if their recordings were still of use to the Broker, and if their services were to be continued or not. Any conversation was brief, and Dolon never saw the same face twice. After each meeting, a sum of money larger than a months basic wage was deposited to a dummy bank account in the real world, set up by the Broker so Dolon could draw from it. A tidy deal.

The road split, a right path following the river and a left trailing off into light woodland and flat grassland. It was on the left that Dolon came to the Shooting Range, a wooden fort like construction that was narrow and long. The “bang-bang-bang” of firearms were ringing out from inside. This was not a fort however, and Dolon was free to walk in through the front entrance and go about his way.

Inside were a number of Pistoleers and Riflemen shooting down long lanes divided by wooden fences. At the end of each lane was a wooden dummy with red markers painted on to them. These targets represented critical areas to shoot. Head, chest, stomach. Fiery torches on high poles illuminated the entire range.

He watched the firing and reloading of the shooters. The number of people were low, as the Pistoleer progression was long and hard, but Dolon took notice of the quality and the high skill rate of all. These people were dedicated to their art, there was not much difference in skill between them. Apart from one.

In the central lane, practising as usual with a small number of onlookers, was Spike. A Rifleman of such skill that every person to train at the Shooting Range admired him completely. But Spike was unknown to the rest of the world, preferring to stay and enjoy target shooting than choose a side in the war. He was the pride of the Shooting Range, and one of the main reasons why people stuck with the Job Class, inspired by the man.

Dolon stood away from the event, watching from afar as Spike hit target after target with his long breach loaded rifle. The dummy he hit was splintered and brought to the ground in pieces. When another was hoisted up, he made quick and accurate work of that too. Everyone who saw clapped, but it was Dolon's slow and heavy slaps that caught Spike's attention. He turned to see and smiled through long red hair and a grey beard, happy to see his friend. 'Dolon!' He said with glee. 'Come! Come and shoot with me!'

Dolon approached, the small crowd parted and he stepped up to the foot of the lane. This was a typical greeting in many schools, a comparison of skill. 'I don't have my rifle today, it's locked up in town.'

'That's fine, that's fine! You can use mine.' Spike handed over his weapon. 'It's loaded, go ahead.'

'Thanks.' Dolon placed the butt of the rifle to his shoulder, took the grip tightly, but placed his finger against the trigger ever so gently. He aimed quite quickly and squeezed the trigger. The target at the end of the lane took a hit off centre to the chest, at the heart. A simple enough hit. The crowd clapped all the same. Dolon snapped open the rifle and handed it to Spike, ready to load.

'Good shot.' Spike said while placing a bullet in the chamber. Once loaded, the red headed man took aim just as quickly as Dolon had and fired. The dummy shook as if impacted, but no other entry point could be seen besides the first.

'He missed?' One voice said. 'It looked like he hit.' Said another.

Dolon knew what had happened. The old man is showing off today eh? 'Pass it here.' Dolon took the rifle, reloaded and took aim. He fired and hit the head of the dummy.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Spike took his turn, reloaded and fired. Again the dummy shuddered, but no other entry points apart from Dolon's two were visible. 'Your turn again.' Spike said while handing over the rifle.

What have I done for you to make a show of me today? 'So it is.' Dolon took his next shot, hitting the red marked stomach. Yet again, Spike took his turn and left no mark. Dolon complained. 'Do you have to duplicate every one of my shots? It's impressive, sure, but come on, you don't have to embarrass me!'

Spike laughed. 'All I've proved is that I can hit the same targets as you.' He motioned for Dolon to fire again. 'I'm sure you've improved enough to do the same. You don't become a Sniper without some level of skill.'

Dolon reloaded and aimed, this time taking a second longer to fire. The bullet flew, hit the dummy in the stomach, but did not enter in the existing entry point. Off to the left... Dolon sighed.

'Ooh, off ever so slightly.' Spike gestured with his finger and thumb, demonstrating the distance between the two entry points. Only a centimetre. Dolon handed over the rifle and backed away from the lane. The onlookers cheered and clapped for both of them, but Dolon sensed that there may have been a little more cheer for Spike. He smiled and clapped.

Spike moved away from the lane and allowed the crowd to take over. He followed Dolon to a bench and they both sat to watch the others shoot. Spike laid down his rifle on his lap.'You don't visit me much any more, Dolon.'

'Is that why you embarrassed me?'

'That was hardly an embarrassment. You've been through worse.' Spike giggled at some long passed memory.

Dolon smiled too. 'True.' He placed his hand on Spike's arm. 'How've you been?'

'I've been good.' Said spike, somewhat glum. 'Just doing my thing here.'

'Are you sure?'

Spike laughed. 'I can't hide a thing from you, can I?' He struggled to look Dolon in the eyes.

'Not me. No.' Dolon answered quietly. He knew this man as well as anyone could, he had introduced him to the game after meeting in the outside. 'What's wrong?'

'Let's keep this in character, yeah?' Spike wasn't willing to talk about real life issues.

Dolon was willing. 'Spike, please tell me.'

Spike finally looked up at him. His eyes were sad, his hands twitchy. 'Jennifer...' He swallowed. 'She hasn't been visiting. We had an argument and she hasn't spoken to me since.'

'What was the argument about?'

'This god-damn game...' He gripped his rifle tightly. 'She wants me to quit, to stop playing so much.'

'Oh Spike...' Dolon wanted to comfort the man somehow, but didn't know how.

'She won't visit or talk to me until I quit, she says I'm addicted.'

I can understand her point of view, but I'm not one who can argue, I'm here every single day. 'Do you agree with her?'

Spike nodded, unable to say the words. 'But Dolon...' Dolon knew what was coming next, it made his heart sink. Spike continued. 'How can I shoot out there?' He covered his face and forced himself not to sob. 'I want my daughter back, but I want to shoot.'

Dolon was lost for words. This outbreak happened so quickly, he almost wished that he hadn't visited at all. He wasn't heartless, but the awkwardness was overwhelming. The other shooters hadn't seen or heard what was happening, but they soon would. Dolon picked the man up to his feet. 'Come on, let's go for a walk.' Spike went with him, but the timing was dreadful. At the entrance to the Shooting Range was a man, he bore no weapons and wore nothing but a black and white tunic. He gave Dolon a subtle nod. Dolon did the same, and while Spike was not looking, he held up his open hand and mouthed “five minutes”.

Outside the school, where the light of the flaming torches gave way to the blue of the moon, Dolon faced his friend and offered what advice he could. 'Spike, does your daughter understand why you play?'

'Yes.'

Damn, she's not playing around. She really must think it's for the best if he quits. 'You need to talk to her again, make her understand-'

'I've tried to.' Spike interrupted.

'Let me finish.' Dolon took him by the shoulders. 'You need to make her understand, and you need to understand her side of the argument. But neither of you are completely right here. If you're unhappy without the game, if your passion for shooting is so deeply ingrained inside you that you're sad without it, then that shouldn't be taken away from you. But if you're giving your entire life to it, if the other things that are important are suffering, like your relationship with your daughter, then you have to compromise and learn to spend less time in game.' Spike agreed, though reluctantly. Dolon shook his head. Addicted. He needs to curb this thing.

'You're right, but its hard.' Spike shook Dolon's hand. 'You're a smart kid, Dolon.'

'Spike, you're an old man, you shouldn't be taking advice off someone young like me, you should be giving it.' He shook his hand back, strongly. 'Take care of yourself and your daughter, don't lose your life to this game.' It's all too easy to do... 'Come on, get back to it for now. I've got to log off soon, but I'll send you a mail tomorrow to talk more.'

Dolon escorted the old red headed man back to the range, where he sat in silence. Dolon hoped his words would hit home, but only time could tell. He felt guilty for giving what he believed to be sound advice, as Spike's relationship with the game was delicate. On the outside, in the real world, Spike had long since lost his sight.

I need to take my own advice. After the two said an awkward goodbye, his thoughts went to his own life as he approached the man who had been waiting for him.

'Dolon Elias.' The man said softly.

'That's me.'

'Our mutual employer is pleased with the work you have done of late. You may not know it, but the information gained from your recordings have potential to be very profitable. Our mutual friend will continue to employ your services. As a thank you for recent work, a bonus has been placed in this month's payment. It is hoped that you receive it well.'

'Thank you.' Dolon was surprised, this had never happened before. Before more could be said, the man crumbled into white glitter and then vanished. Logging out of the world completely.

I should take my own advice, but this is the easiest job I've ever had. Dolon smiled to himself as he searched for the white bar in the periphery of his vision, logging out to find food and sleep in a world he needed to live, but spent too little time in.