by Noah Barnett
A door opened revealing the private lounge. Oddly enough the man he had shot was not there, so maybe you didn't have to stick around for casual matches. Above the main screen, the timer showed that eighteen minutes remained. He'd only managed to last two minutes, but at least he'd killed someone. Charlie touched a nearby console and was pleased to see he'd earned two hundred credits. A door opened nearby and another player entered the lobby. The man wore a black balaclava over his head and a dark urban-camo vest. Charlie glanced up from the console watching as the soldier walked to the elevator. It opened at his approach and he slapped at the control screen. The player disappeared as the elevator slid shut and ascended. Well, that answered the question of whether he could leave or not.
He wanted to laugh. The first game had been over too fast to get his heart rate up. Charlie stood and approached the exit. After a few seconds the elevator doors opened, and he returned to the lobby. People were mobbing the help desk for free ammo. Charlie though had only fired a single bullet. He decided to reload next to a nearby console. Elva's chamber was charged so all he had to do was slide in a fresh eight round magazine, and holster the 1911. He ripped open the Velcro pouch on his thigh, removed the ammo box, and replaced the one spent bullet. Then he accessed the console and started another casual pistol match.
"Please enter Lobby 420," it said after flashing the ‘Higher Division’ warning at him. With ten people in each game that meant at least four thousand people were playing on the West Coast server. He whistled, impressed by the turnout because that number would likely increase after lunch. He entered the elevator and went down to the lounge. The match started almost immediately.
The darkness came and went leaving Charlie staring at a setting sun. Broken down cars littered the highway like forgotten toys. Nearby a speed-limit sign read, ‘100' with a red circle. Judging by the dusk sky and the foreign traffic sign he was somewhere in Europe. Charlie crouched removing the pistol and glanced around.
The highway ran east to west towards the sun. On either side of the road was a large grass covered berm. Shuffling closer to a car he glanced through the window, but couldn't see any movement. Two shots rang out in the distance, and he looked west, but the sun was in his eyes and there were too many cars on the road. Silence followed the pistol reports and Charlie unconsciously hunkered lower.
He waited this time, while his heart started getting a healthy dose of adrenaline. For several minutes gun shots were exchanged up and down the highway, but none were close enough to make him worry. The buzzer went off somewhere above and the red line crept into view. It was inching along about a hundred feet away urging him into action. Charlie stepped away from the Mercedes, and almost immediately, a loud shot rang out from behind. Something vaguely hot and electric slammed into his leg. Unable to support his weight, Charlie’s knee collapsed and he crumpled to the cracked pavement. Laying under a van some twenty feet away was a short girl already aiming at him for a second shot. Charlie tried to bring his gun around but he'd landed poorly. Her pistol flashed sending Charlie into darkness.
"Damn it," he cursed as the door to the lounge opened. He stepped out and punched the padded wall. That player had been much closer to the match border. If he'd just waited for a little longer she would have been forced to move. But, no… he'd gotten impatient. She must have known he was there all along waiting for the shot. What pissed him off even more was the fact he hadn't even fired back. Charlie walked through the empty lounge to the elevators and started up. He got into line with several others to use the console and started another match.
“How are you doing?” Elva asked.
“I got one kill so far.”
“That’s good, keep at it. If you have questions don’t be afraid to ask. I can’t tell you how to play but I can give you some general advice.” She said in an enthusiastic voice.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied entering the elevator. It descended, opening onto another lounge. This was just what he had to do; practice, practice, and more practice. That along with a heavy amount of trial and error. In an hour he was going to have to log off for food. Charlie wouldn’t do himself any favors by neglecting to eat. After lunch he could focus on running matches, and they were giving out ammo so he didn't have to leave the competition center.
Soft pale moonlight filtered through the broken blinds to illuminate the tiny hotel room. The light fixture hanging from the ceiling was broken, and the switch had been removed to keep people from turning it on. The hotel was forty credits per night, which was twice as expensive as the coffin motel, and it was still a dive. Near the entrance was a small kitchenette and table. The fridge didn't work and the sink constantly dripped water. At least he had a bed, hard and lumpy as it was. The sheets were stained, and the pillows lay forgotten on the floor. Charlie sat on the mattress with his weapon, and a shaft of light framed them as his wrist worked. He licked his lips nervously. This technically wasn't their first time but that didn't stop him from worrying. Elva, however, was thoroughly enjoying herself.
"Mmmm… yes," she groaned and Charlie almost stopped mid-motion. "No, no don't stop. I'm almost there, just a little more." Elva begged. His wrist moved faster, fingers wet and slick from the solvent. The heavy aroma of gunsmoke wafted from the 1911 to fill the small room.
"Ohhh gawd, Charlie. I'm cuummminnggggg…" Elva squealed. The final word devolved into a series of panting cries.
This time Charlie did stop. His wrist slowed before he said, "You know—that is very distracting."
Elva panted breathlessly into his ear. "I told you... we guns are more sensitive in our original forms." Charlie held in his left hand Elva's upper receiver and in his right a wire brush. The barrel and frame lay on a rag next to him on the bed. Charlie had been scrubbing the breach-face and under the extractor. He dipped the brush into the plastic cup, and brown powder residue swirled in the solvent.
"I can't believe you get so dirty," he complained tapping it on the container’s lip.
"Who's fault is that?" Elva asked heavily into his ear. "You used me all day long—not that I'm complaining." She added quickly.
"What I mean is, why? Why add dirt and grime into the game?" He asked using the brush on Elva's upper receiver. He dug the bristles underneath the slide lip. Black oil dripped down the brush to his fingers. Elva groaned again unable to speak as he did this.
“It seems like a pointless waste of time, but I suppose it gives us Meister's a reason to get to know our weapons. A real soldier takes on the responsibility of caring for his gun." He said after considering the idea. Along with the sex and excitement came a bit of work.
Elva looked free of caked on soot so he dropped the brush into the solvent and grabbed a q-tip. This he dug into her slide groove. It came away brownish-yellow, and he set it with the others. After several more he put the slide down on the rag. The barrel was a short tube with a feed ramp on one side. The grooves were nearly black with powder and copper fouling. He picked up the solvent canister and aimed down the throat spraying inside. He waited a few seconds then picked a circular brush out of the cleaning kit and ran it down the barrel. Elva tried but failed to stifle her moans. Charlie did this three or four times until the solvent came out clear. The lower frame was fairly clean aside from his dirty fingerprints, so he sprayed it down lightly and ran a rag over the metal.
"Now you need to oil me, but not more than a drop on the spots I told you. Improper oil is worse than none at all."
The lubricant bottle was small with a long needle on the end. He squeezed a drop onto the front, middle, and back slide. Next he added a tiny amount to the sear and one final drop just below the hammer. The tricky part was reassembly and Charlie paused to check the instructions again.
He slid the barrel into the slide then inserted the bushing. The guide and recoil spring went in next. Now he had the awkward task of putting the upper receiver onto the lower. About halfway down he stopped with the holes lined up, and with one hand holding the pieces toge
ther, pushed the slide stop into place. All that was left was to put on the spring cover and push it down. With his thumb he kept it depressed and rotated the barrel bushing into place.
"Done, phew… that was a task and a half," he thought.
He racked the slide several times to spread the oil around, and after aiming the pistol in a safe direction, pulled the trigger. The hammer fell on the empty chamber and he racked the gun again. For a few seconds he held the completed weapon in his hands. The surface was a parkerized matte black which was smooth to the touch. It had dark wood grips with a subtle checkered pattern. Charlie had liked the weapon when he first picked Elva in character creation. She was a sexy creature in both her forms, though he'd learned she had drawbacks. Namely a lack of ammo capacity. Compared to some of the modern pistols seven rounds left him wanting. Still, you couldn't argue about that big forty-five caliber bullet. A single hit to the center torso was generally enough to down an unarmored opponent.
The 1911 began to glow until there was a flash. Elva appeared kneeling on the bed in daisy dukes and a tight little tank top. "That felt heavenly," she admitted rocking her hips back and forth. Elva stretched reaching her hands into the air while pushing her chest out. Again she shifted back and forth until she felt satisfied. Sliding from the bed she said, "I'm going to change into something more comfortable." The blond disappeared into the bathroom which gave Charlie time to clean up. He put the brushes into the kit and replaced the top on the solvent canister. The dirty rags and q-tips he tossed into the wastebasket. Next he wiped his hands clean on a fresh towel, and all the extra cleaning supplies went into the shopping bag next to the bed. He needed a duffel bag or a backpack to put his purchases into. There was no hope of affording an apartment just yet, so Charlie would have to remain mobile by renting rooms each night.
A warm breeze blew in through an open window opposite where he sat. In the distance, the glowing Competition Center was visible reminding him that it was open 24/7. Charlie was caught up in the sight as he wallowed in today’s failures.
Out of ten casual matches he had lost all of them. Half the time he'd been one of the first people killed, and it didn't help that everyone was leagues ahead in skill. Charlie felt extremely frustrated with how little he understood the game. A large part of it came down to marksmanship and practice. It was obvious that he couldn’t shoot for shit, and Charlie needed to work on his aim before he played another match. Tomorrow was Sunday and he had earned enough credits to rent time in the practice rooms.
The door to the bathroom opened just as the moon exited the clouds, and the shaft of pale light perfectly framed Elva in the glow. She stepped playfully into the room wearing the crotchless lingerie he’d bought earlier. White thigh-high stockings were held up via a little garter belt and the window on her thong showed off a short landing strip of blonde pubic hair. By now Charlie realized he'd been staring at her open mouthed, and Elva looked pleased with his slack jawed reaction. She fingered the lace thong, pulling on it before letting it snap back into place. Moments like this reminded Charlie there was perfection in this digital world, and it was standing before him. Elva cupped a heavy breast feeling her nipples through the soft lace fabric. Next she combed her fingers through her blond hair and shook it out. The strands fell over her chest as she locked eyes with Charlie. He blew out a breath he'd been unconsciously holding.
"Fuck me," he said as she swayed toward him seductively. The lingerie was definitely worth the credits.
"If that's what you want," she replied and he nodded eagerly.
Elva pushed him back onto the bed and started to unbutton his pants. Quickly his new clothes went onto the floor with the blankets. She climbed atop him, straddling his waist, and with long fingers guided him inside. As Elva started rocking Charlie knew he was caught; hook, line, and sinker. The wet slapping sound of there hips meeting filled the room. His questing hands ran up her lace covered thighs, past her stomach, and grabbed her heaving breasts. Elva moaned placing her hands over his as she leaned back. Her sensuous body rose and fell, and Charlie knew he was about to explode. Just when he couldn’t hold on any longer, Elva leaned forward kissing him as his climax roared through him.
Afterward Elva swept back into the bathroom. Exhausted and ready for sleep, Charlie touched his temple with two fingers and selected ‘Logout' from the options.
All was dark as gritty reality settled over his shoulders. He was sitting in the living room of his dingy apartment. Charlie tried to speak, but it felt as though someone had poured hot sand down his throat. He coughed thickly and tried to work up some saliva.
"Lights, dim." He croaked in a hoarse voice, and the ceiling light came on low. Charlie slipped the dive helmet from his head. Then he rolled to his feet and set the gear down in the chair.
"Mental note—keep a water bottle handy."
Charlie coughed again as he shuffled into the kitchen. The water faucet came on tepid but he was too thirsty to wait. Forgoing a glass he cupped a hand under the water and brought it to his lips. It was like liquid ambrosia on his tongue despite the chemical aftertaste. He drank another handful and the fire in his throat cooled. With the dire thirst quenched he fetched a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice cubes. The cat bowl was empty again and he felt sorry for neglecting Fizzgig.
"I'm going to have to buy more cat food soon," he muttered fetching the container. It rattled as he shook the large plastic jug, and Fizzgig made his appearance at the sound. The feline sat a few feet away patiently waiting for Charlie to finish filling his food and water dish. As he shuffled into his bedroom he took a long draft of water and set it on the stand. Then he entered the master bath and flicked on the light.
He showered, brushed his teeth, and cleaned the litter-box while in the bathroom. After donning a pair of clean boxers he went to lay down. A full moon hung above the cloudless night sky, but the stars didn't twinkle quite so brightly in real life. It was something he never got tired of looking at. Deep down space called to him. He raised a hand pointing his finger at the moon as if Elva was in his hand.
"Bang," he whispered pulling the imaginary trigger. Charlie smiled, rolled away from the moonlight, and drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fog Lifted
The sound of an explosion catapulted Charlie from a dead sleep. The deafening clatter of a machine gun filled the air, and for a few seconds, he sat up in bed as his brain struggled to catch up. The phone making the terrible racket danced across the bedside table. He’d stayed up way too late Sunday night playing Gun Meister, and was suffering for it now.
"That was the second alarm," he thought blearily. The first was considerably more subdued which was why he'd slept right through it.
"Well fudge sticks," he said throwing the blankets off. Charlie snatched the phone, activated it with a quick series of flicks, and silenced the gunfire. He had ten minutes to get to work, and it was a twenty-minute commute. Thankfully he'd taken a shower last night, so all he had to do was throw on a button-up shirt and slacks. He tugged on some socks then shoved his feet into a pair of black business loafers. Grabbing the phone again he ran outside and down the apartment stairs. He was already late by the time he reached his car and started it.
After thirty-five minutes in traffic he pulled into his parking spot at the dealership. The glove compartment opened and he extracted an extra tie. Charlie slicked his hair using a half-empty bottle of water and a pocket comb. Finally, he checked himself using the driver side mirror. There was a heavy five o’clock shadow over his face, and his tie was crooked. He straightened it then ran a hand over his face hoping nobody would notice the stubble.
There were two customers already inside, and Frank glanced past the older woman. Charlie ignored the look and moved to his desk. There was paperwork to finish before he made the lot rounds. Pulling his chair out he was about to sit when his phone rang. He glanced up towards the general manager's office. Through the glass, Irvin was holding the receiver to his e
ar and beckoned Charlie into the office.
"Just what I needed this morning," he thought to himself, and moved to knock on the door.
"It's open," Irvin called, and Charlie went inside. "You're not usually late."
"It was hot last night, and I had trouble sleeping."
It was a white lie. Elva and Charlie had spent most of Sunday practicing in one of the marksmanship programs. Then they’d screwed well past midnight, but the old man didn’t need to know that. Irvin sat back giving Charlie the eyeball.
"Can I talk to you man to man?" The GM asked. Something sarcastic almost slipped from Charlie's lips, but he caught himself just in time.
"Of course," Charlie replied and smiled hoping it looked genuine. He tried to prepare himself for whatever the man had to say.
"I like you, which is why I wanted to talk." Irvin began. Charlie prayed he hadn't meant sexually. God that was such a disgusting thought. The GM picked up a pen and examined it carefully before he spoke. "Your sales numbers are the lowest among the agents. If you don't get them up, I'm going to have to take you off the active roster."
