I spent about an hour hunting small groups of players before the guilds came down hard on the south, though by then I'd already accrued a nice tidy amount of various items, ranging from mundane clothing to equipment, to weapons and armor. I'd actually had to leave some behind as my duffle bag filled up. The guild had people patrolling in groups of four at this point, though I could see my actions had stirred up a bit of a fuss on the forums, people complaining about being randomly killed now connecting the dots and realizing that guilds with players in the south-eastern portion of town were being targeted specifically.
As much as I wanted to claim responsibility for the attacks, I figured discretion was the better part of valor, slinking back to my shed where I began dumping all the loot. I'd managed to get my hands on three different guns, a baton, two knives, a jacket, three pairs of pants, a pair of goggles, and a single worn out boot. I'd left the other one behind as a joke more than anything else.
I'd long since run out of bullets for the Cobra, only being able to reload when I got back inside, happy to feel the little clinks of fresh rounds in the firing cylinder. I'd been spotted only once during my little outing, though it had cost me a total of eight rounds in the ensuing firefight, and also reminded me to bring a medical kit next time. Remembering how much I panicked as I tried to stop the bleeding was a little comedic, considering I'd doused the injury in moonshine and then used one of the pants I'd found to stop the bleeding.
After I finished unloading everything I logged out, tired from the day's events. While fun and exhilarating as it was, I found that lying in my own bed was far more satisfactory, the warmth of my weighted blanket like coming home from a winter storm.
In the morning I groggily ate two grilled cheese sandwiches, having added a light dusting of parmesan on top of both slices of bread. I watched an episode of an old sci-fi, making little sound effects and commentary as it went on. It was far better than the more recent adaptation that painted everyone as incompetent fools, only for someone to do something unexpected at the last possible moment.
Once I had washed and put away the dishes I laid down in the pod once more, finding that the carpeted void still lacked something. I pondered on what that might be for a few minutes, eventually just deciding to think of it later. I logged into Dead on Arrival, the familiar darkness of my shed no longer oppressive, the faint scents of vanilla, citrus, and sawdust almost inviting in a way. I also had a message on the forums, though I was unnerved by the sender. It was someone from the Zephyr guild asking to meet with me to negotiate a business deal, since I'd been selling weapons. I didn't buy it for a second, though I remained calm and cordial in my reply, stating in no uncertain words that if they wanted to meet, it would have to be on my terms.
Their reply was almost immediate, conceding the point so long as they were allowed an hour to prepare themselves. By that I assumed they meant death squads, since not a single guild had taken credit for last night, and I'd also been arming a few of their enemies fairly frequently.
I closed out of the forums after agreeing to allow them time if and when I contacted them, my instincts telling me not to go anywhere that they had a presence, the prospect of losing a life fairly likely, and repeated killing upon stepping out of the respawn area even more likely. Instead I went to work for the day, making more of the frames for each rifle. AZTea logged on a few hours later, banging on the door to my workshop without hesitation and startling the hell out of me. I didn't chastise her for the action despite wanting to, having stubbed my toe against the workbench, the discomfort annoying.
She sat down where she had been yesterday, tapping her foot against the ground as she got to work on making more bolts. I honestly felt a bit bad for not having a chair or anything to sit on, though I was in a similar situation since I had to stand the whole time.
We settled into a familiar rhythm, parts being assembled bit by bit, occasionally switching roles so that neither of us would get bored. By the time we finished it was just past lunch time, a total of eighteen guns and a mishmash of supplies that weren't enough for even one more rifle. I did the math, figuring I could probably find someone willing to buy eighteen rifles for nine hundred credits. I opened up the forums once more, seeing that the Zephyr player had sent over a list of benefits I could discuss with them should I need work.
Overall, I found that it was them extending an offer to me in the hopes that I'd come work for them, producing and selling guns alongside their own crafters, and the terms were fairly generous for the average person. A nice little salary, paid time off, even dental. It was too bad that I wasn't average, otherwise I might've taken them up on the offer. I responded with roughly those words, responding that if they wanted to seriously do business with me, they could give me a show of good faith and I might start selling to them.
AZTea was as enthusiastic as ever when I told her that I would be organizing a sale, offering to help in whatever way possible. I almost declined her offer, before I had a sudden realization. While I was a known seller and agitator, AZTea was not. "Would you perhaps like to set it up, then? I can walk you through it while you set things up in your own way." She positively glowed at my proposal, nodding furiously.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
As I started to talk her through it, I found she could type even faster than me, her hands blurring as she typed up a fairly professional advertisement of Slapdash Rifles with her own little flair added into the mix, asking me to take a photo of her holding one of the weapons. As time went on, the photo became increasingly elaborate until she had my taking a picture of her crouched on the edge of a rooftop, aiming down at nothing with an empty shell casing being ejected while she pulled the bolt back, a fresh round held between two of her fingers, and a lollipop in her mouth. She told me the last part was mostly because she wanted some candy and didn't want to leave her VR pod.
The advertisement attracted a fair amount of attention, though a lot of it was made up of players only focusing on AZTea's appearance. There were a few people who were interested in the actual weapon though, including JelloBelly who was hoping to secure the weapons for use in expanding her guild. As time went on though, more and more guilds got involved, all wanting the cheap weapon for their own adventures into the Ruined Zone. She'd managed to get more customers for the sale of the rifles than I'd gotten for my first sale of actual firearms. I was honestly a little jealous of her skill at pulling in potential customers, though she did ask how I chose who to sell to.
I pointed out a few comments which caused my instincts to flair and explained why I didn't trust them, though she didn't really understand fully. Nonetheless she took my advice and ignored the selected comments, even passing over the one that had offered two thousand credits for the rifles, saying they would outbid everyone else for a chance to obtain them. I'd mostly thought that the player wanted to simply speak with AZTea about the photo I'd taken for her.
Eventually we settled on selling to JelloBelly again, since her track record was already proven along with the fact that her little insurgency against Lion's Mane was doing fairly well for itself with the exception of a few losses here and there.
AZTea set the meeting place in an alley nearby, asking if she could play the part of the muscle. I shrugged, letting her have whichever role she chose. She giggled at the prospect of being the tough and intimidating part of the sale. To help with that I let her use the Recycler Rifle, the sleek energy weapon causing her eyes to almost sparkle, as she'd probably thought she would end up holding some of the actual product.
We didn't have nearly enough duffle bags to store all the weapons, so I had to go to the market to get more, passing by several patrols of both players and actual guards, all of which had stepped up their presence in the area since the violence had escalated to incredible levels earlier. None tried to stop me, though I did get a few suspicious looks here and there, especially when I came back through with five new duffle bags and fifty less credits than before.
I did get stopped by a guard patrol who asked me why I had so many bags. Thinking on my feet, I told them that I didn't have enough bags to move stuff from my storage to a new apartment I'd bought in the northeastern part of the city, and then asked if I was being arrested or if I was free to go. It was clear that they didn't buy my story for a second, though they grudgingly let me go without further incident.
The guns were loaded up and dumped behind a nearby dumpster, both AZTea and I waiting for Jello to arrive. When she did, it was with two players I hadn't seen before on her right and left, presumably to carry to product. When she saw me, her eyebrows knit together.
"I didn't expect to see you here, Keldath. Did I get duped into buying from you again?" The words could've been taken as insulting, but I only laughed it off. "Figured I'd let my newest hire have a crack at advertising. Shall I give you the rundown on the product you're buying, or is this just a pickup job?" I leaned against the wall as I spoke confidently, a slightly salesman-like smirk on my face.
"Far be it from me to deprive you from telling me how your gun can do everything from putting down other players to doing my taxes for me." She lazily waved a hand at me with not a small amount of humor in her voice. I went back to the dumpster that hid the guns, walking past AZTea who was holding the Recycler Rifle and staring back at Jello and her crew.
I came back moments later with a Slapdash in hand. "Chambered in 5.56x45 NATO as was stated already in the previous posts, and about as good as a musket rifle, if not slightly better. Only one round can be loaded which is the downside, so you'll be reloading as much as you shoot. If I had better equipment on hand it''d be about as accurate as any normal bolt action, but for now I wouldn't use it outside of ambush tactics. You get what you give with this rifle. Cheap, easy, and something you can toss if things get too hairy to stay in the fight." I loaded an empty casing, demonstrating how the gun worked before emptying it. "If things go from bad to worse, you can also use it as a club."
The rest of the deal went without a hitch, JelloBelly paying while telling me that she was waiting for the day when I'd be rambling on and on about machine guns and advanced rifles, as it was impressive to her that I seemed to "come up with so much bullshit for such a basic gun."
After Jello and her crew left, AZTea was surprisingly bummed out, feeling like she hadn't done much other than hold a gun. She didn't mess with the tin credit stick in her hands as much, just walking straight ahead with her own duffle bag slung across her back, Recycler Rifle hidden inside. "I'm glad to work with my hands and do things like this, but that was just boring. There wasn't anything for me to do there except stand around and watch them."
She pouted a bit as she spoke, the sun shining down on both of us as we walked up north to get more supplies to work with. "You might not have done much, but that doesn't mean you did nothing. Your very presence, the fact that you had a gun in hand and were ready to use it made it so they didn't just take the weapons instead of buying them. Don't worry, it won't go that smoothly every time, though things have been fairly smooth so far." I handed her three hundred credits as part of her pay. "That's enough to get you a ticket for respawn at the building in the center of the city. We can try a more risky sale once we can afford to lose. Right now though, I'd be happy if we could just get a bigger space to work with. We'll get there AZ, we'll get there." I clapped her on the back as we crossed into the northwest section of town.