by Noah Barnett
After twenty minutes they got off the bus, and walked down the street. The beach house came into view like a beacon in the night. Charlie felt exhausted both physically and mentally. He unlocked the front door and sank gratefully into one of the leather couches. Fara sat opposite him, and her eyes narrowed as she searched his face.
"You're right. This isn't going to work." Charlie said sitting back.
"Charlie," Elva said sitting next to him.
"You heard her. She doesn't even want to be touched. All the way home she's been looking at me like that. It's as if she's calculating how long until I start laying into her." Charlie said pointing at the teen.
"Frankly, I don't appreciate it," he added poking the air.
"You—don't—know—anything," Fara said enunciating each word.
"Enlighten me," he drolled in a tired voice.
"Derek was eager and hopeful as he worked his way up the ranks." That was all she said and the silence continued to linger like a melodious stink.
"He changed?" Charlie prodded.
"At first it was like a dream. Derek was kind, funny, and he made every girl feel special. Unfortunately, Derek's ability didn't match his enthusiasm. His kill/death ratio hovered around .3 and Gold Two was his skill ceiling. He became bitter when he stopped gaining ranks. A week ago he lashed out striking Wednesday. That's when his personality took a turn for the worse. He closed down." Fara said in a tight voice.
"I'm still going to report him because he needs to find a less stressful game to play," Charlie said standing. He fetched the cleaning supplies from the bedroom and brought them out.
"Well, let's get you both cleaned," he said putting the box down. Fara continued to eye him with distrust, but Elva quickly changed into pistol form. After another long glare, Fara began to glow. Charlie leaned over the table and picked up the assault rifle. She was an original M16 straight out of the Vietnam era. The weapon was surprisingly light with its black plastic buttstock and foregrip. He unloaded the twenty-round magazine and put it on the table. Slowly he turned the weapon around in his hands looking for how to disassemble the gun, but there weren't any obvious ‘start here' instructions.
"You have to push out the two pins on the lower receiver," Fara said in annoyance.
The weapon came apart in two equal sections. Opening the cleaning box he grabbed the solvent can and liberally sprayed her insides. While they soaked he used a long-handled brush to scrub her magwell out. Despite being reset to default, there was still green sludge liberally coating her insides. Elva usually moaned like a porn star whenever Charlie cleaned her, but Fara might as well be mute for the noise she made. Charlie scrubbed the bolt assembly hard with the wire brush. It was tedious work digging out the caked in sludge, but the carrier group grew shiny and he set it on the rag. Finally, he oiled a few spots around the gun and put her back together. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the refrigerator. There was a distinctive click as he pulled the trigger. After a second the M16 began to glow. Fara appeared sitting in his lap but leaped to her feet like Charlie had the plague. She circled the coffee table and sat on the other couch trying to disguise a blush by scowling angrily at him.
He picked Elva up and unloaded the 1911. Charlie rotated the bushing, took the spring cover off, and removed the slide lock. Elva's matte black slide came free of her lower frame, and gun residue caked her insides. The solvent can was half empty, and he shook it before spraying her down. Charlie had barely started scrubbing when Elva groaned into his ear.
“Harder, Charlie… harder.” She groaned. Her breathing grew more and more ragged as he scrubbed her upper receiver clean. He forced himself to be thorough despite his exhaustion, and after about ten minutes, her insides shined like she was fresh from the factory. Elva panted in ecstasy as Charlie dragged the long snake cleaner through her barrel, and black tar spilled out onto the dirty rag. With a spare cloth he wiped each part down, then oiled her up, and reassembled the gun. After the function check, he held her in his hands.
"While I am offline, take Fara shopping."
"Don't bother. I'm not staying." Fara said from the couch. Charlie frowned because it was the second time she'd mentioned that.
"At the very least, I'll need ammo and magazines. Whether you buy clothes or not is up to you." He said setting Elva on the coffee table. She began to glow. Her face was pink with excitement as she appeared laying across the wood. Elva swooned still recovering from her cleaning, but sat up and leaned toward Charlie. He caught her hands before she could attack the buttons on his pants.
"Not tonight, Elva. I am tired." Charlie said getting up. He avoided looking at her half-lidded lustful eyes as he moved into the bedroom to lay down. Charlie reached up touching his temple with two fingers. The pop-up appeared, and he logged out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Battle Royal
It was some hours later when Charlie slowly woke, yawned, and stretched. He rolled from bed and stuck his feet into the slippers. Digging the sleep from his eyes he made his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower. Afterward he dressed and wandered into the living room. He made sure a bottle of water was within easy reach, then pulled the dive helmet on. It hummed, warming up before the world outside was shed in a blossom of light.
The beach house smelled of grilled lobster. Charlie sat up discovering a shopping bag sitting on his chest. He opened it to find a lightly armored vest and a pair of tactical operator gloves inside. The fingerless gloves were green canvas and black leather with hardened knuckle guards. The armor was made of flexible Kevlar pads covering the chest, stomach, and back. The vest fit snuggly against his frame highlighting the muscles of his torso, and Charlie admired himself in the mirror.
Voices could be heard coming from the living room, and Charlie wandered out. Several pots and pans littered the stovetop from a recent cooking spree. The two girls were talking over several plates of seafood.
"You both look beautiful," he said walking into the living room.
Fara had changed appearance considerably. Her blond tresses had been cut into a wild windswept mess of short hair. Several parts of which were dyed in red and green streaks. Green eyeshadow accentuated her blue eyes, and a steel stud pierced her lower lip. Her white t-shirt was torn and cut off at the stomach. Across the front in fading red words it read, "Fuck off!" The blue jeans were similarly faded and worn.
"What?" She asked in annoyance as he continued to scan her figure. Her fingernails were painted black with little skulls on them, and on her pinky, was a green jade ring. Fara looked like a rebellious teenager just out of high school.
"I'm sorry for being ill tempered last night. We got off on the wrong foot," Charlie offered holding out a hand. Fara crossed thin arms over her torn t-shirt and glared up at him. Charlie sighed letting his hand fall to his side.
"Fine, if that’s how you want to play it," he said turning to Elva. She had purchased clothes too, and he smiled more naturally. If Fara was the teenage bad girl then Elva was the slutty teacher.
A red hairband barely contained the mass of golden curls. Elva fluffed her hair before pushing a pair of thick glasses higher on her nose. The red bra was partially visible under the white button up shirt. Instead of using said buttons, Elva had tied the shirt tails under her breasts. The red mini skirt was pleated with white stripes.
"Elva, the outfits you pick always get me excited." He admitted with a genuine smile. From within her cleavage, Elva withdrew a cash card and demurely extended her hand.
"We indulged and I spent everything," she admitted.
"That's what it was for," thought Charlie, as he took the card and put it in his back pocket. There was around six grand left in the account, and in two weeks the rent for the beach house was due. Whatever was left, he’d add to the card the next time they went shopping.
"You bought ammo?" He asked.
"See for yourself," Elva said pointing to the kitchen counter. On it were ten large boxes of 5.56 ammo, five bra
nd new thirty round magazines, and a carry sling. She had also picked up an extra box of 45 ACP at the same time.
Charlie opened one cardboard box and examined the rifle cartridges. The bullet itself was smaller than he expected. It was half the size of the 45acp rounds Elva used. The casing though was about two inches long, which promised to hold plenty of gunpowder. On the bottom face, it was stamped with 5.56 NATO around a circular primer. He loaded four magazines and put them into his jacket's front pockets.
Fara had already morphed into weapon form after finishing her food. Charlie picked up the rifle, and reloaded the gun. Elva dabbed at her lips with a napkin. She stood and brushed at her new outfit to ensure it was clean, then her eyes closed as she started to glow. After the flash, Charlie holstered the 1911. He quickly checked the pistol mags were loaded and left the house.
The morning was still young, but the bus was full of players heading into town. It was standing room only, and he ended up crammed between two guys arguing about machine guns.
"Fire rate is all that matters," the first man insisted.
"You must be joking. Fire rate is nothing compared to caliber. I'd rather have the ‘Ma Deuce' to your cute little minigun." The second muscular man exclaimed. The heavily armored tank patted the .50 caliber machine gun slung across his chest like a lover.
The first scoffed and said, "Melanie here spits out rounds four times faster than your ancient relic." The two men glared at one another.
"What will you do when you burn through your ammo halfway through a fight?" The second asked his voice growing heated.
Charlie tuned them out as their bickering continued. The bus dropped everyone off near the competition center. Gun Meister was quickly growing in popularity, and the crowd was large. Just outside, a thousand people stood in several lines to get into the doors.
He recognized a pink haired receptionist from his first day stepping toward him. "Care to register for the event, sir?" She asked in a bubbly rush.
"What is it?"
"It's a ‘free-for-all' Battle Royale," she said waving her tablet.
"How many people are in each match."
"Everyone, silly." She laughed turning her computer around.
On the screen were the words, ‘Ultimate Battle Royal.' The winner of the match would receive an extra contract slot for their character. Kill rewards were also doubled during the event.
"Even higher level players?" he asked in surprise. Letting them play with the bronze fish didn't sound very fair.
"It's more a matter of luck than skill during the first hour. Just go out guns blazing. Not only can anyone participate but it doesn't take up a match for the day." She said holding out the tablet. Well, that sold it for Charlie. He could run two more games after giving this a try. He put his hand on the tablet, and his ID flashed.
"Please enter Lobby One," it said.
"The match starts at noon, so you got in at the last second." The girl said tapping the tablet.
"Good luck!" She exclaimed clapping his shoulder, and moved to the next player.
Charlie entered the competition hall and into the elevator with several others. It descended just one floor before opening up on a massive room. Almost ten thousand people filled the theater, and Charlie stepped out joining the crowd. Nearby a group of gorgeous women were covering themselves in green camouflage paint. Most had sniper rifles or silenced weapons of some kind. Other men and women were doing last minute checks of their equipment. A clan of players was passing ammunition back and forth like trading cards. Charlie ended up being pushed to the side as he gawked at the crowd. A Hispanic man strolled by carrying a black modular shotgun.
Hundreds of screens hung about the hall displaying video footage of the battlefield. A modest alpine town was nestled next to a wildlife preserve, which explained why the girls were getting ready for a forest engagement. Charlie felt his excitement growing as he realized just how big the map was. An enormous ten-kilometer circle ringed the town and forest.
As the countdown reached ten seconds the ambient noise hushed. In the silence, ten thousand players removed their safeties. The sound of so many click, click… clicks made the hairs on the back of Charlie's neck stand on end. He reached down and thumbed his new M16 to full-auto fire. As the timer ran down darkness enfolded him.
[Match Start]
It was incredibly dark, and Charlie knew he was in an enclosed space. He had less than three feet of room on any side. The first thing he did was kneel and touch the floor. It was carpeted, and he realized he was in a closet. A second later the world erupted into deafening noise as thousands of battles started around the city. The cacophony was so loud Charlie could have screamed at the top of his lungs and not heard himself.
Bullets punched through the thin door, and stitched across at waist level. Charlie ducked to the moldy carpet as slugs barely missed his head. When the long burst ended he peered through the holes. Outside, the figure of a girl turned away from the closet, and left the room. She returned shortly wrestling a dinner table and cabinet into a crude barricade. Charlie removed Elva from his thigh holster as he waited. He didn't have to worry about making noise at this point. Ten gun battles raged in Charlie's building alone. Her back was turned to him as he pushed open the sliding closet door. She was good. Despite the deafening noise, she spun in his direction and reached for a Tactical FN at her waist.
Charlie raised Elva and fired. The bullet struck her in the chest, but she continued to draw the pistol. In surprise, Charlie quickly followed up his first shot with a half dozen more. The raven-haired girl slumped back against the barricade with the silenced pistol in her hand. Charlie stepped forward and saw she was wearing armor like his under her tactical vest. The Kevlar pads had reduced some of the damage, which was why he'd had to put several bullets into her. Her weapon was similar to his. The firearm sticking through the makeshift cover was an M4A1 with a red dot and a huge suppressor.
He was lucky that he'd started in a closet, and double fortunate the girl hadn't bothered to check if anyone was inside. She'd just emptied a clip through the door and called it good. Down the hall an explosion caused the pictures on the walls to shake. Charlie crouched next to the barrier. Someone was throwing grenades around like they were party favors.
The sheer volume of gunfire was slowly dropping as more and more people died. A shotgun blew a hole into the apartment's front door, and Charlie didn't wait for the grenades. He shot to the right of the hole, and four bullets punched through the thin wood.
Three grenades were tossed through and rolled into the living room. Charlie dropped the rifle, ducked below the barricade, and pulled the black haired girl atop him. A second later the apartment rocked. Shrapnel and smoke filled the space as a second shotgun blast blew the door lock off. The grenadier kicked open the entrance on the heels of the explosion.
Charlie was deafened, so the only thing he could hear was a high pitched ringing. He shook his head, pushed the body away, and grabbed Fara. A man wearing heavy armor entered the apartment carrying a Mossberg 500. He pumped his shotgun, leveled it at the barricade, and fired. Buckshot blew chunks of wood off the table he knelt behind. Already shaken by the grenades, he wildly fired at the player. Charlie’s luck held as a bullet cut into the man’s ankle, and he toppled. He took the opportunity to dump what was left of his mag into the player.
In the smoking silence, he nervously reloaded. The barricade was a ruin and Charlie stood moving forward. As he did the man's shotgun vanished, but the backpack remained. Fragmentation and flash grenades had spilled out across the carpet.
"Can I use grenades?" He asked.
"Yes, you can use grenades and the ammo left on dead bodies. They are considered battlefield pickups but won't be added to your character. Sorry, you can't keep the grenades." Elva informed him. On the girl's corpse, he found a dozen mags and four pounds of C-4. Outside shotgun shells littered the hallway in a path towards the back of the building. Every apartment had the same treatment as his.
Each had their doors kicked open and cleared.
Fighting was still raging in the building above and below him. There was no elevator on the floor, so the only way to get up and down was via a central stairway. Charlie approached the stairs and tried to peek out, but had barely opened the metal door, when a dozen rounds punched through it. Hot bullets struck him in the chest, and he quickly rolled sideways as more streamed through the thin metal. Someone was camping the stairs. Charlie touched his jacket sticking a finger into several bullet holes. The door and his armor had thankfully prevented most of the damage, but his chest ached.
Charlie could try and blow a hole in the floor, but he had never used explosives before. It was more likely he was going to kill himself, so he might as well go out in a blaze. Charlie pulled the backpack off his shoulder and dug around inside. He armed a hunk of the explosives by sticking the detonator into it and turning the timer to ten seconds.
