by Noah Barnett
"Erick, Chad; I'm sorry, but I have to cut you both from the active roster." Irvin said leaving everyone stunned, especially Charlie. He turned looking at the two men. Erick's face was stony, while Chad sat there with an open mouth. For once the ‘Chatterbox’ couldn't think of anything to say. "You'll be put on an on-call basis," the boss added into the silence.
"I've sold five cars this week!" Erick blurted. Charlie tried to remember his total sales, but he knew it was more than five.
"Sorry Erick, the recession is hitting everyone hard."
"Then fucking fire us," Chad barked launching out of his chair.
"My hands are tied," Irvin said tucking them behind his back. That was cold. Keeping them on the books part-time meant they couldn't collect unemployment. It was cheaper that way for the company. If they quit, the two would forfeit the government handout. Both Erick and Chad stormed from the room accompanied by a heavy silence.
"Things are still up in the air. Our branch is doing well in regional sales, but corporate might demand we cut more. I want everyone to remember that." He stated leaving the room. The agents turned to look at one another, because they suddenly saw each other as competition. Charlie spent the day bouncing back and forth between extremes. He was happy to be gainfully employed, but he felt bad for Chad and Erick. That would have been him—should have been him. By lunch, he managed to pull himself back together enough to make a sale.
Charlie eventually clocked out. Jen was wrapping up a customer who was leaning into her personal space, and Charlie shook his head going by. There was no chance he would ever compete with her in sales. Walking out to his car Charlie settled into the driver seat and started the vehicle.
He had narrowly avoided being put on-call, which was a fate worse than death in this current climate. Charlie had reason to celebrate and there was no better way than with fresh sushi. He stopped near his house for a half dozen rolls and a bottle of sake. An hour later he sat down in his living room chair. The few scraps of leftover tuna he'd given to Fizzgig, who was chewing on the raw fish in abject bliss. Charlie kicked off his shoes and pulled the dive helmet over his head. Then touched the activation button and waited for the world to fade.
Gun Meister Online Loading…
Connection Established…
Network shaking hands…
Logging into Character…
The sound of canned laughter reached his ears first. The television above was playing an ancient black and white comedy. Elva lay on the bed with her head resting against his stomach, and a bowl of fresh strawberries nearby.
"Alright alright, that's enough," the man said raising his voice. He folded the morning newspaper and set it on the dining room table.
"Maybe for you, but I'm just getting warmed up." The woman said gathering the leftovers onto a tray. The statement was followed by another long round of canned laughter.
"You tell him, Lucy. Don't take his shit." Elva said as the laughter died away.
How interesting. Charlie wondered if the show was for entertainment or character growth. The early drama was obviously old, recorded before even color television. She picked up another strawberry pointing it at the TV.
"You're a strong independent woman, Lucy. You don't need him." Elva said bringing the fruit to her lips.
Until now Charlie had remained perfectly still, so Elva hadn't noticed him yet. As it neared her mouth, he snatched the morsel. There was only one thing more important than sex to Elva, and that was food. In her surprise, she spun and chased the strawberry like a bloodhound. Elva bit at his fingers, but he dropped the succulent fruit into his waiting mouth. She hungrily lunged for it, closing her lips over his, and tried to save her prize from edible oblivion.
The fruit was quickly crushed in the attack of lips and tongues. For almost a minute their mouths were engaged in a lip biting, mouth mashing contest. She growled pushing herself against him like a dog hunting for their favorite bone. Charlie reached around her, sliding his hands under the black miniskirt. Eventually, she relented parting from the ravaged battlefield as saliva and strawberry juice ran down both their chins.
"Are you done?”
“I’m just getting started,” she said kissing him again. Above them, another round of canned laughter went off. Her surprise had faded and her cultured personality was taking root. Elva was still wearing her business dress, but had kicked off her shoes and pulled the bun apart.
“Good evening, and thank you for the warm welcome. I’m eager to look for a new gun. Any advice?" He asked letting go of her plump posterior.
She rolled over and touched the screen above them. The video paused and the TV went blank.
"You first have to decide what role you want to play," Elva said turning back to him.
"Role?" He asked. "Do you mean picking a sniper or a machine gun?"
"That's a part of it. Higher ranked divisions like Gold and above are designed almost exclusively for squad play. The stats you choose in character creation will lead you toward a type of squad role. Think of them like player classes, which fall into six different types. They are Tank, Heavy Support, Juggler, Flanker, Scout, and Squad Lead."
"What about going solo?"
"You can still play alone. In that case, having average stats and a multi-role rifle is your best option. You never know what situation you will find yourself in."
"OK, so what are the role specifics?"
"A tank is someone who wears heavy armor and carries a ballistic shield. Their primary weapon is often a one-handed submachine gun. An entry fragger needs a large health pool so they have high endurance.”
“Heavy Support is similar to tank but maxes out strength instead. They usually carry heavy weapons like squad machine guns into battle. Support sometimes bring extra ammo reserves into a match.”
"Juggler is an ambiguous role. They can take on most duties in a pinch.”
“A Flanker is an agility based character designed to gain objectives quickly. Often these people match light armor with a semi-automatic rifle.”
“A scout is just another word for a sniper. They often have high strength and agility. This lets them carry the largest sniper rifles and sprint over short distances." Elva paused to pick a strawberry from the bowl, and popped it into her mouth. A moment of bliss crossed her face as she swallowed.
"The squad leader is more of a title than a role. They have to coordinate the team and keep them moving on an objective. Most often they are jugglers and flankers."
"You have to decide what position you want to play in a group. A machine gun for instance for support or a sniper rifle to pick off players at a distance. Half of your matches have been solo, so you might want to choose an assault weapon. They aren't as handy as an SMG nor do they have the range of a scout, but a fully automatic rifle will work in most situations." Elva said picking the last strawberry from the bowl.
For a second she stared at it as her decision tree began cascading through multiple options. With a look of regret she offered it to Charlie. He closed his lips over the succulent fruit and chewed while he considered his options. Charlie had two strength and three points in both agility and endurance. By Elva's logic, he was probably best suited to being a juggler, or a jack-of-all-trades kind of player.
"How do I find a new girl to contract with?" He asked finally.
"We should head down to the Royal Armory. It's a five-star hotel that caters to unregistered guns." She said sliding from the bed. Elva donned her high heels and walked to the bedroom mirror to fix her hair. Charlie pulled on his jacket, and they left the beach house, and took the bus into town.
The five-story building was made of white marble shot through with precious metals. The pillared luxury hotel stretched the entire block, and must have contained a thousand rooms. Twin golden lions kept guard over the entrance. At the bottom of the marble stairs Elva leaned in close and said, "Go in and check the directory. You can search by type, caliber, and even era."
"You're not joining?" He as
ked, and she shook her head.
"I don't want to affect your decision." Elva began to glow, and after a flash, appeared in his holster.
There were two double doors and they opened silently at his approach. The lobby was covered in a thick blue embroidered carpet, and leather couches spread across the space in little groupings. Almost all were occupied by swimsuit wearing individuals, and they paused to look at Charlie as he entered. There was a long counter with several consoles, and he started toward them, but a short woman caught his hand forcing him to stop. Like all the other weapons she wore only a small black bikini.
"Are you by chance looking for a weapon?" She asked stepping closer. The girl was barely more than five feet tall with a slim figure, olive skin, and the darkest hair he'd ever seen. It was jet black like pure onyx crystal, which was matched in her mischievous eyes.
"I am,” he admitted. Charlie looked down into her fine face, and for a second he was lost in the depths of her eyes. She smiled and squeezed his hand. Thanks to Elva, he was slightly more armored against beautiful women.
"What are you?" He asked after gathering his senses.
"Why don't you try me and find out." She said licking a small tongue across her lip. "This area is unique. You don't need a contract to use a weapon, and it would be my pleasure to be used by you." She said curling her fingers into his. Charlie wasn't opposed to the idea. Elva hadn't been able to suggest a particular one, so he would have to find a weapon himself.
"Lead the way," he said allowing himself to be guided toward a side hallway. An indoor range was attached to the hotel, and it was only here the girl let go of his hand. She stepped towards a counter and removed a box of 9mm ammo from the shelf.
"Everything here is free. You can shoot as much as you please." She said handing it to him, then turned toward a thick iron door.
Charlie followed her in after donning a pair of earmuffs. Two other men were inside testing out weapons as well. The dark haired girl guided him to an open lane, then began to glow. Soon a small boxy machine pistol lay on the table, and Charlie picked it up. Along the side it read, "Ingram MAC 10."
It was tiny in his hands, and Charlie turned it over examining the weapon. Eventually he found the magazine release, and a long box slid free. After loading thirty rounds, he pushed it back into the grip, and thumbed a bolt at the top of the gun, which chambered a round. He took aim using both his hands at a set of crude targets down range. As Charlie pulled the trigger, the small pistol danced in his grip as the entire mag slammed down range in a second and a half. The first target had about five or six holes in it, and the others nearby had one or two each. Charlie was in awe. This was a full machine gun that could fit into his pocket.
"You can pull out my stock," The girl said into his mind. There was a small metal hoop, and as he yanked on it, a thin telescoping stock slid out. He removed the magazine and verified that it was empty. After loading another thirty rounds he pushed it into the gun. One problem he noticed, was the barely visible sights. Still he raised the micro SMG to his shoulder and fired on the target. The Mac-10 sprayed, kicking in his hands as he pulled the trigger. A line of twenty holes stitched up the cardboard silhouette, but the rest had gone over the target into a backstop.
"You are a handful," he admitted fondling the simple boxy pistol. There was still more ammo, and he loaded the weapon again. He found the selector switch on the left side of the gun and set it on single fire. Aiming this time he squeezed off several shots, but it wasn't quite as fun, so he switched back to full-auto. The gun sinfully dumped the entire magazine down range, then used the last ten rounds in the box. He’d fired all one-hundred rounds in a fast and satisfying two minutes. Finally, he turned and left the range with the weapon in hand.
"As amazing as you are I have to disappoint you."
"I suspected as much. Still, it was a pleasure." A voice said into his ear and the weapon glowed. The tiny woman appeared and extended a hand. Charlie took it and shook firmly.
"For my first contract I need something with more range," he replied. Certainly, she was fantastic at room clearing, but he needed a weapon with more utility.
The diminutive woman turned and sauntered toward another player near the ammo counter. She ran a hand down his side and added a box of 9mm to his pile, then with a playful smile, followed him into the range.
Elva spoke from her thigh holster, "It's better you find a gun you truly want."
He agreed. It would be preferable to contract with a weapon he would keep. Charlie turned to leave the range, but was stopped by another gun. As Charlie neared the exit, a tall woman stepped around the corner, and he came face to breasts, with a red haired giant.
"I hear you correctly? You v’ere looking for longer range, da?" the woman asked in a thick Russian accent. He glanced up between her cleavage into a pair of steel colored eyes. Before he could step back, she hugged him. "I am zeh rifle for you," she said pulling him into her substantial bosom. Charlie found his face sandwiched between her giant breasts.
“Try me?” The giant asked and he nodded. She turned him about and prodded him back over to the ammo counter. "You v'ill need 7.62 x 54r," she said pointing to a lower rack. As he bent to retrieve the ammo a hand slid over his ass and squeezed. He straightened in surprise, but the redhead only smiled, licked her lips, and led the way into the range.
She turned out to be a Dragunov SVD semi-automatic sniper rifle, and she was beautiful. The weapon had a lacquered cherry wood stock, and a matte black frame. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and found a lack of optics, but all the girls came with minimal features. Charlie already knew he wasn't going to pick the weapon. He needed something that was fully automatic, and the rifle wouldn't work in a close quarters fight. Her barrel length was just too long, so swinging her around in a hallway would be next to impossible. Charlie shook his head but started to load the magazine. The least he could do was actually test her. He tilted the ten round magazine into the well before it locked into place. Then he pulled back on the bolt and shouldered the weapon.
There was a ghost ring front sight which he lined up on a new target. Charlie aimed at the far end of the range to a target that was about a hundred meters away. The rifle kicked hard as he pulled the trigger, and he almost staggered from the unexpected recoil.
"I have to apologize, but I need an automatic rifle." He said after working his way through half the box.
"Full-auto is bad for aim," she said.
Charlie agreed in principle as he continued to shoot. "I like you, but I need something that fills multiple roles." He said after another ten rounds. He finished running through the ammo, and left the range. Outside the gun began to glow. As soon as the redhead was in human form, she squeezed him to her chest again.
"You have good grip. Not loose, not tight, just right." She growled into his ear, which was a strange compliment, but he accepted it.
"Are there any fully automatic weapons you would recommend," he asked after pulling away.
"Not so much auto's left," the woman said.
"None?" he asked in surprise.
"Many, many Meisters come for contract lately. All assault rifles gone." She replied, and he sighed. Charlie had been among the massive influx of new players. The Russian made weapon used a nearby pencil and scrolled something on a scrap of paper. "My ID, you call. We contract." She said tucking it into his jeans pocket. Her hand reached behind him and grabbed his ass again. "I like your grip," she repeated before turning away.
Charlie dodged a number of girls in the lobby and managed to access a terminal. He filtered out everything except for automatic weapons. The SVD hadn't been joking. There wasn't a single assault rifle available. In fact, most of the SMG's had been taken as well.
"Am I going to have to settle for a different weapon?" He asked tapping through the listing.
"Possibly, weapons are only made as needed. More will be created in the next batch wave." Elva said into his mind. That made a sort of sense. The developers d
idn't want hundreds of weapons just sitting around getting bored. It wouldn't do their personalities any good. "You may just have to wait a few days," Elva suggested.
"Well, that sucks," Charlie said turning away from the screen. He wasn't going to just contract with a weapon for the short term, so for now, he'd have to run casual pistol matches.
Charlie left the Royal Armory and walked down the street. Despite the fact he hadn't found a weapon the experience had been fun. That Mac-10 had been a literal blast to shoot. He smiled remembering her playful black eyes, and suspected she might be a blast in bed too. From his jeans pocket, he withdrew the piece of paper. The ID number was written in a quick feminine hand. Yes, it had been worth the trip. He was feeling good about today, especially having a job still. Maybe he'd rent some practice time and put Elva through her paces.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Duel
A small pile of empty ammo boxes sat behind Charlie on the loading bench. Elva looked good, and he stroked her steel frame. The white mustang painted across her grip turned out even better than expected. Slowly he placed the magazine into her well and slid it home like a lover. There was a quiet click and he racked the weapon. Charlie had paid for three hours worth of practice time, and there was five minutes left, so he could get in one last run. A monitor was nearby, and he touched the screen activating the same scenario.
