Heist Online

by Victor Deckard

  “So what’s your plan?” Flynn asked.

  “I want to start the game from scratch as a cop. As we already know, those players pretend to be heisters, but they are actually cops. Nobody knows about it except for the three of us. So if we start playing the game as cops, we’ll sooner or later learn everything about the British team and perhaps even find a way to stop them from robbing other players.”

  However, neither Flynn nor Allison shared my excitement.

  “What’s the matter, guys?” I asked them.

  “I don’t think I want to play as a cop,” Flynn said. “You know me, right? I like being a heister and enjoy playing in stealth. But playing as a cop is endless action: gunfights, car chases, and so on and so forth. I played a little as a cop during the beta test period, but I didn’t like it much.”

  I looked at Allison and asked. “What about you?”

  “I don’t think I want to play as a cop either.”

  “Why? Like Flynn just said, it’s constant action. And you love action, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she replied slowly. “But I kinda like being a heister. I haven’t played as a cop, but it seems kinda boring to me. Anyway, I don’t want to play as a cop at the moment. Maybe later. Moreover, I don’t want to start from scratch and gain levels again. I’ve only recently reached max level. There’re lots of legendary heists I want to play. After I complete them all or if I get bored playing as a heister, I’ll probably become a cop. But no sooner.”

  I regarded my teammates silently. I knew what was happening here. The British players didn’t have beef with Flynn and Allison. They didn’t harass my teammates. They weren’t trying to hunt them down. They didn’t trash their safe houses. They weren’t eager to turn their gaming lives into “a living hell”. Which was why Flynn and Allison lacked motivation for getting even with the British team.

  Which meant that I had to deal with those players all by myself. I wasn’t going to force Flynn and Allison to do what they didn’t want to.

  I watched my teammates for a couple of seconds and said, “Okay. I get it. I ain’t gonna waste your time any longer then. I’m gonna start a new game right now. See ya later, guys.”

  “Wait, Striker,” Flynn said. “I didn’t say that I wouldn’t help you.”

  “You said you didn’t want to play as a cop.”

  “That’s true. And I still don’t. But it doesn’t mean I won’t help you. You want to get even with them Brits. You have good reasons to. I get it. They trashed your safe house, they’re trying to hunt you down. You don’t have to go against them on your own. I’m gonna help you.”

  “Even if it means that you have to play as a cop?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. We’ve always played together, Striker. If you thought that I was going to go away when you clearly needed help, then you didn’t know me at all. But I gotta tell you something. Everything that I just said is true. I don’t like playing as a cop. So after you take revenge on them Brits, I’m gonna play as a heister again even if you decide to continue to play as a cop.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Good,” Flynn said and turned in his seat to look at Allison who was in the back of the car. “So what about you? Are you with us or not?”

  I looked over my shoulder to look at the girl as well.

  “What, you want me to play with you after all?” She asked pretending to be surprised. “Thought you hate playing with me. You’re always being so rude, hateful, and all that jazz. You’re always yelling at me. And now you’re saying you want me to join your mission to seek revenge on that team?”

  “I hate to admit it, but you are a good shot,” Flynn said. “It’d be nice to have you around. I just don’t like it when you deliberately mess up our plans like the legendary heist we just did.”

  “Well, thanks, I guess.”

  “So you in or what?” Flynn asked again.

  She was flicking her eyes between Flynn and me. She looked kinda nervous. It was painfully obvious that she really didn’t want to start a new game as a cop.

  “Guys, I––”

  Before she could finish, Flynn snapped at her, “Get the heck outta here and don’t waste our time then.”

  “Hey, no need to be so mean.”

  “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just being myself, that’s all.”

  “Great.”

  “You should’ve known my character by now.”

  Allison looked at me and said, “Look, if you really want me to play with you, then I will. But after we get even with them, I’m gonna continue to play a heister, okay?”

  I didn’t want to force her, so I shook my head once and said, “Thanks, Allison, but I think Flynn and I will manage without you.”

  “You sure, Striker?”

  “I’m sure.”

  She watched me for a few seconds, then said, “Okay. See you guys later then.”

  I said nothing. I just nodded.

  “No hard feelings?” She asked.

  “No hard feelings,” I said.

  “We’re still friends, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Friends don’t leave you when you need help,” Flynn grumbled. “Like they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed.”

  “Hey, I already told you that I can help you guys.”

  “It’s okay, Allison,” I said. “I think it’s even better if you continue to play as a heister. We may benefit from it later on. So let’s keep in touch, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  After the girl left, Flynn looked at me and said, “Before we leave the game to start a new one as cops, let’s discuss something. There are three cop classes: a doc, a technician, and an enforcer. Which one would you like to pick?”

  “I’m not sure. But judging from the names, the cop classes are similar to the heister ones, right?”

  “True. They are pretty much analogs of the heister classes.”

  “I’ll pick a doc then,” I said. “It’s a medic class, so yeah, I think I’m gonna play as a doc.”

  “You sure?”

  “Well, I kinda wanna try out a technician. It seemed a very interesting class to me. But since you’re already playing as an engineer, guess you’d like to play as a technician because these classes are very similar.”

  “Not quite,” Flynn said. “Yes, I like the engineer class. But like I said, I ain’t gonna switch to a cop for good. Once we deal with them Brits, I’ll continue to play as a heister. So it ain’t really important to me which class to pick. But what about you? Are you gonna continue to play this game as a cop or as a heister after we’re done?”

  “I don’t know yet. If I like being a cop, then I’ll continue to play as one.”

  “Okay. So If you want to play as a technician, pick this class. I’ll pick a doc then because we’re gonna need a medic.”

  “A technician it is.”

  After we decided on a rendezvous point, I brought up the main menu and pressed the exit button. Everything went dark.

  Chapter Eleven

  After the logos of the developer and the game disappeared, a message popped up before my eyes:

  > Do you want to play the game as a cop or a heister?

  Sure enough, I wanted to play as a cop. After I picked a side, another message emerged in front of me.

  > Pick a nickname.

  I couldn’t name myself Striker since the other character of mine bore that nickname. So I decided to name the new character Unkas. It was another nickname that I sometimes used.

  After I typed in the nickname, the page before my eyes refreshed.

  > The nickname Unkas is available!

  > (Do you want to pick this nickname: Yes/No)

  After I confirmed my choice, the text vanished and I finally found myself in the game.

  I looked around to get my bearings. I was in a small, barely decorated apartme
nt with a bunk bed and a computer desk. Next to the computer monitor on the table lay a set of keys attached to a metal ring, a cell phone, and a badge.

  Before I could do anything, a message appeared before my eyes.

  > Do you want to initiate the training mission? (*)

  > (Initiate the training mission: Yes/No)

  > (*) Note: If you play Heist Online for the first time, it is recommended that you complete the training mission.

  Sure, I wasn’t playing this game for the first time, but I decided to complete the training mission to learn more about playing as a cop.

  As soon as I agreed, I found myself seated behind the steering wheel in the cab of a police cruiser. Before I could do something, a message appeared before my eyes.

  > Check out your gear.

  I examined myself. I wore the medium body armor and a tactical vest. Across my lap lay an SMG. I checked out its stats.

  > Name: Heckler & Koch MP5

  > Place of origin: Germany

  > Class: Submachine Gun

  > Damage: 10

  > Headshot Multiplier: 3X

  > Rate of Fire: 950 RPM

  > Magazine Size: 30+1

  > Firing Mode(s): Automatic, 3-round burst, Semi-automatic

  In the holster on my right hip rode a handgun. I pulled it out and fixed my gaze on the weapon. Its stats popped up in my HUD.

  > Name: Sig Sauer P226 MK25

  > Place of origin: Switzerland

  > Class: Handgun

  > Damage: 35

  > Headshot Multiplier: 3X

  > Magazine Size: 15+1

  > Firing Mode(s): Semi-automatic

  So it was a Sig Sauer, my favorite pistol in the game. Good. I slid it back into its holster and checked the pockets of my tactical vest. I found a fragmentation grenade and nothing else. So I had only one grenade, one magazine for the MP5 and one mag for the Sig Sauer. Not much. Considering the fire rate of the SMG was very high, the whole mag could be emptied in a matter of a couple of seconds. I should aim carefully when using this weapon.

  Another message appeared in my HUD.

  > There is a boarded-up building on the other side of the street. Your mission is to locate and eliminate or apprehend all criminals, as well as find and free hostages. There is one hostage in the building and several criminals.

  As soon as I read the message, it disappeared only to be replaced by another one.

  > It is the training mission, so there are no players in this area except for you.

  > Being a cop, you can carry your weapons in plain sight. The NPCs are not going to freak out over it.

  > All the criminals in the buildings are NPCs. They wear ski masks or balaclavas to conceal their faces. When you finish the training mission, you are going to deal with player heisters. Just like NPCs, they wear either masks or balaclavas, which conceal their faces, as well as make their nicknames invisible. You need to pull a mask off a player heister to see his or her nickname.

  > Also, when you are on a mission, you cannot go too far away from the place being robbed by heisters. So if you walk or drive too far away from the boarded-up building, the training mission will terminate and you will have to start from the beginning. The same holds true for the main game. If you move too far away from the place being robbed by player heisters in the main game, the mission will terminate.

  > Since it is a training mission, you won’t get any experience points or money for completing it. The goal of the training mission is to show you how to play as a cop.

  As soon as I read the text, it disappeared.

  Let’s get this over with, I thought. The sooner I finished the training mission, the sooner I got back to the main game and started to look for the British team.

  I pushed the driver’s-side door open. I stepped out of the police car and darted across the street toward the boarded-up building, the SMG at the ready.

  I reached the opposite side of the street and crashed through the entrance door into a quite spacious room, making quite a din

  I saw an armed NPC standing at the stairs in the far end of the room and looking up the stairwell. The noise of the entrance door crashing against the wall caused the NPC to look around. When his eyes met mine, he instantly spun around, bringing up the 12 gauge pump-action shotgun he held in his hands. The door rebounded back toward me as I raised my submachine gun to waist level. I pushed the door back with my left hand and dived for the floor as the NPC fired his shotgun.

  Most of the buckshot went over my head, but some of the pellets caught me in the right shoulder, lowering my Health by about 10 percent. As I dropped on my left side, I triggered my SMG, sending 3-round bursts in the NPC’s direction. Some of my slugs caught him in the chest.

  He took off racing, blasting his shotgun on the run and racking the slide after each shot. Luckily, he was firing almost blindingly, so no pellets hit me.

  The NPC reached the opposite side of the room and busted through a door, disappearing from sight. I rose to my feet but omitted to follow the NPC through the door. It was the first time that I was dealing with non-player criminals in this game. I didn’t know how smart they were. For all I knew, the NPC might be waiting for me to enter the room beside the door. At the point-blank range, his shotgun would kill me instantly. Which was why I decided not to take unnecessary chances.

  So instead of going after him, I hung my SMG around my neck, pulled a grenade from my vest, and yanked out the pin on it. The only thing keeping the grenade from exploding now was the metal spoon that I was holding down with my fingers. When I relaxed my grip, the fuse would ignite and five seconds later, the grenade would detonate.

  I extended my fingers, letting the safety lever spring away from the body of the grenade with a soft cling. I silently counted to three, then tossed the grenade through the door. The grenade clanged as it hit the floor and then it exploded, sending thousands of ball bearings and fragments of the grenade’s steel casing flying in every direction.

  I heard the NPC scream in pain. The screaming ceased as abruptly as it had started. I looked around. There was no one in the room except me now, but there might be more criminals to deal with somewhere in the building.

  First of all, I dashed across the room toward the door through which the NPC I had just killed had gone. His headless body lay in an ever-spreading pool of blood. I walked up to the NPC’s shotgun and picked it up. Its stats popped up in my HUD.

  > Name: Mossberg 500

  > Place of origin: United States

  > Class: Shotgun

  > Damage: 45

  > Headshot Multiplier: 3X

  > Magazine Size: 5+1

  > Firing Mode(s): Pump-action

  The shotgun had an 18-inch barrel, pistol grip, and no stock. It was a perfect weapon for close quarters combat. I racked the slide back far enough to see if a shell had already been chambered. It was there. The NPC must have reloaded the weapon after getting in this room.

  I went through his pockets and found shotgun shells. I stowed them away in the pockets on my tactical vest. I attempted to shove a shell into the loading port of the Mossberg, but it wouldn’t go in, which meant that the shotgun magazine was full.

  I left the room, then went toward the stairs, raised the Mossberg’s stumpy barrel up the steps, and started slowly ascending. Although it was all quiet, my gut feeling told me there were more criminals to take care of on the higher floors. The further I ascended, the more vulnerable I became.

  Something scraped against the floor somewhere above me, the soft sound the equivalent of an explosion in the otherwise quiet stairwell. Someone was on the stairs above me, that was for sure.

  Crouching, I continued climbing the steps, one at a time, my eyes carefully examining the shadows for any sign of movement.

  The stealthy pad of foot on the floor reached my ears. Whoever was above me was close. Real close.

  I reached the landing, stopped, and pointed the Mossb
erg at the stretch of steps descending from the second floor. Two NPCs suddenly appeared on the stairs in front of me, submachine guns held tightly in their hands.

  Both of them opened up with the submachine guns, snapping off shots in my direction. Some of the slugs tore into the wall inches from my head. Dropping to a knee and raising the shotgun to shoulder level, I sent a load of buckshot into the throat of one criminal. The blast of the shotgun was almost deafening in the confines of the stairwell.

  Blood gushed from the severed arteries in the NPC’s neck and his head fell to his left shoulder, still attached to his body by some tendons.

  The second criminal gasped once as his now dead partner’s blood sprayed at his face. The lifeless body of the first criminal tumbled down the stairs. His SMG fell from his hands and clattered down the steps. The body and the weapon came to a rest at my feet.

  The second NPC seemingly panicked, which impaired his aim. He squeezed the trigger of his SMG, stitching an irregular line of bullet holes across the wall above my head.

  I racked the slide of the shotgun to chamber another round, steadied the weapon, and pulled the trigger again, popping off another shot. The 12-gauge buckshot leaped from the muzzle, spreading into a tight grouping and taking the second criminal in the chest.

  The NPC grunted as a geyser of blood and flesh showered from the wound over the floor. The force of the impact propelled him backward out of sight. I wondered if he was still alive.