The Messenger produced an interesting sound when fired. The rounds made a shrill whine as they exited the gun’s special bone-carved compensator. Kurt discovered, as he ran the course, that this gave the impression of a barking, guttural scream, combined with the heavy thud of the powder-packed rounds. It was a distressing sound, but he found himself getting used to it as he ran the course a handful of times, working on his Magnum Force skill. The magazine also fell to black smoke as it was released instead of the standard silver dust, and soon the course had a thin layer of black smoke resting on the floor, swirling with his footsteps. His Magnum Force skill rose by a level, and his Small Arms went up another two in the time it took for his car to be repaired. The chime of money being removed from his clean cash account was his notification to stop the firearms practice and get back to work on his driving skill set.

  Stepping outside in his minimalist gear, Kurt hopped back into the Ferrari with a box of MK II fragmentation grenades under his arm. He set the box down on the passenger seat beside him and went looking for more Goons to harass. This time around, he focused on trying to blow up the Hummers he could get chasing him by dropping grenades as he went around corners. They, being GoonStorm, would invariably follow him, and Kurt quickly got the hang of the timing required. He could occasionally sneak up on them as well, so long as they were already engaged. The near-constant heat mechanic in the area helped in that aspect, as the war had everyone distracted. Successfully running from the police NPCs also greatly aided in his skill grind, as anytime he lost the heat, he would get a bump in his driving skills.

  Kurt repeatedly drove up beside a GoonStorm vehicle and tossed a grenade into their open window before pressing the gas pedal and fleeing. If their window was not open, he would blast it open with a spray from his Glock. Using these methods, he destroyed a surprising fourteen Hummers before the Abrams managed to pin him down and blow him up again. He respawned on the couch in the Hub, to a snicker from Tigg. Pulling up his reputation, Kurt was happy to see the rank up he had been working on.

  The Lace

  The Lace is a secretive group of high-end heisters. Your discretion, ability, and lethality have raised your standing to a notable level. Continue to help grow The Lace, and they will continue to help you grow apace.

  Current Rank: 3

  “Laugh all you like, Tigg. It’s working.” Kurt gave her a half-smile before heading to the garage. Drake was in there hauling his wreck of a Ferrari back into the repair area and puffing at another of his hand-rolled cigarettes, smoke curling up around his head and drifting near the lights in the ceiling. “Twenty minutes?” Kurt asked.

  Drake raised a rude gesture at him from the cab of the tow truck and spoke with heavy snark. “Longer if you stay to watch.” His personality seemed to be growing the more Kurt interacted with him.

  Kurt returned to the assault course and continued working on his shooting, focusing on his magnum pistol and full auto Glock. After the Ferrari was repaired and ready to go again, Kurt returned to the lounge to gather his re-ordered crate of MK II grenades and leave for another run.

  This time the Goons were waiting for his noticeable vehicle, and he was hard-pressed to get many kills while keeping ahead of them. The Downtown Cluster was still somewhat new to him, and eventually they managed to corner him in a blind alley.

  In a moment of panic and frustration, Kurt spun the back end of his car around and floored the accelerator, charging straight at the Hummer blocking the end. Flames erupted from the hood from the continual .50 cal strikes, but as he slammed into the Hummer, something unexpected happened. He slid underneath it, the hood of his car jamming itself under the wheels and forcefully lifting the Hummer into the air. It landed on top of him and crushed down the roof, trapping him inside the burning vehicle. As the flames began draining his health, Kurt was subjected to intense and continuous pain. He managed to fumble at a grenade and pull the pin, dropping it back into the box with a gasp. After an eternity that spanned only a few seconds, the grenade put an end to his suffering, and to the Goons above him.

  Kurt respawned in the Hub, leaping off the couch and slapping at his body, trying to put out the phantom flames which his mind screamed were still there. After a second, he took a deep breath and got himself under control. No wonder Jimmy had left Kitty’s crew. Shaking his head clear, Kurt was pleased to discover a new specialist skill.

  Specialist

  Pain Tolerance Rank 1 (Combat)

  “I ain’t got time to bleed.” Predator - 1987

  A criminal has to be tough to survive. Ignoring incoming damage in order to complete your objectives can turn the tables in your favor. Health damage taken reduced by 1%.

  Additional armor and armor modifications unlocked.

  “Dammit, Jimmy,” Kurt whispered under his breath, mentally admonishing his friend for not sharing any tips on getting this skill. The reward was absurdly helpful, and Kurt made a mental note to try and ignore pain when getting hit. He thought back over all the times he had been shot so far and realized he had always taken a moment to recover and allow the pain to subside before getting back into the action. Remembering how Jimmy fought, he suddenly had a lot more insight into his friend’s build.

  Shaking his head, Kurt got back to work. He ordered more grenades and made sure the Ferrari was getting repaired. Instead of getting to work on the assault course, Kurt flopped onto a couch and began working on a special design for the Ferrari. Once the car was repaired and ready to go again, he saved his work and got back to the grind.

  While he was out in the Downtown Cluster tormenting and blowing up Goons, he finally got a response from Jimmy. “Hey sorry man. Was on a date. About to log in, why?”

  Kurt was in the middle of a chase with a half-dozen Hummers and at least two Abrams, so he didn’t bother responding straight away. Once they finally pinned him and took him apart again, Kurt respawned in the Hub, where Jimmy was in front of him in a new suit of armor. It was a full-body suit, covered in swatches of metal plates beneath thick, grey cloth. The legs were covered by external plating, in thick bundles around his thighs and shins, coupled with heavy knee pads. His arms were likewise covered by extra plating, and a thick neck guard wrapped up into a collar. As Jimmy turned to face him, Kurt saw the cracked marble face of his friend’s preferred mask. The back of his head was partially exposed, but every other critical hit point was covered in heavy plating. While Kurt watched, Jimmy lifted an arm and flexed it experimentally. A small shower of granite-colored dust rained from the joints of the armor.

  “Woah!” Kurt took a moment to appreciate what he assumed was his friend’s new Unique quality item. “That’s what I was talking about, by the way.”

  Jimmy nodded, a fresh shower of dust falling from the joints of the armor. It never fell on anything, just dissipating as it landed, but it seemed to emit fresh dust anytime he moved. “Yeah, I figured. Check this out,” Jimmy said. He took a few steps towards the door, and his footfalls resounded heavily through the room as the floor beneath Kurt rumbled and shook.

  “What the hell?” Kurt steadied himself on the couch, looking at Jimmy as he hopped up and down in place, causing booming thuds and raining dust from all of his joints.

  “It’s called Stone Skin.” He twisted an arm, gripping the heavy-backed glove and adjusting it slightly. “Easily the best suit of armor I’ve ever seen or heard of. This thing totally ignores every fifth strike, no matter what it is.” He stared in awe at the heavy suit of armor, turning his arm to watch the little puffs of dust it emitted. “I got this cool little HUD addition to track the hits, too.”

  “That’s pretty amazing, dude. You won’t be sneaking up on anybody, though, not shaking the ground like that.” Kurt looked at him sideways, sliding his suit jacket open discreetly to display his new gun.

  “We must have gotten these for helping cause the war.” Jimmy suddenly looked up in realization. “What’d you get?”

  Kurt happily showed off his new pistol and explained its benefits and oddities. He was struggling to figure out the smoke aspect, but Jimmy explained it was likely a balance mechanic — because the gun helped him to be more difficult to find or track, the smoke was a method of balancing that to help other players find him. The two friends bantered lightly as they moved to exit the Hub and find out what Gadot had gotten.

  “She spawned in and the AI rep told her to go outside with her. I bet it’s a car.” Jimmy was unusually excited, and Kurt was reminded of what he had said in his text earlier.

  “Woah, hang on a sec. You guys went on a date?” Kurt grabbed at Jimmy’s sleeve, causing another small shower of dust.

  Jimmy smiled and nodded. “Yeah, man. Summer and I are dating now, I guess.” He leaned in the doorway, a wistful expression on his face. “She asked me to go to lunch with her, and we ended up doing touristy crap downtown all afternoon. We’ve just really hit it off the last few days.”

  Kurt managed to control the expression of shock that wanted to show on his face, instead giving his friend a crooked smile. “That’s . . . that’s really great. Congrats.”

  “Don’t worry, man, we’ll find you a girl someday,” Jimmy turned with a snide smile and walked away. “Looks ain't everything.”

  Following his friend with a scowl, Kurt couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’ve — you know, I’ve had girlfriends.”

  “Sure buddy. I believe ya.” Jimmy was infuriatingly pleasant, speaking in his dismissive, teasing tone.

  Their banter was interrupted as they exited the building. Gadot was in front of a silver 1967 Fastback Mustang. Kurt scowled, sure he had seen the car before someplace, but was unable to place it. Gadot was merely standing in front of it, reading the air above her wrist as she gaped. “It’s . . . Eleanor,” she whispered almost reverently.

  She stopped staring at her wrist and glanced over to see Jimmy thudding towards her with heavy, ground-shimmying footsteps. Her eyes rolled, and she smiled at him, before turning back to her new car. “I have to take this thing for a drive. You guys want to just meet up on the competitive side in, like, half an hour?”

  Jimmy leaned over and hugged her with one arm quickly, but she shrugged out of his embrace and gave him a glaring smirk. “Sure thing. I’ll set us up a lobby,” he said.

  Its engine fired up with a throaty roar, and Gadot ran her hand along the steering wheel lovingly. She slipped the car into gear and boiled the tires. The Mustang turned in place as she lowered her gaze and grinned. The car shot around the corner, little burps of fire erupting from its tailpipes as Gadot drove it off for a joyride.

  Jimmy slapped Kurt on the shoulder when she was gone, and the men turned to go back inside the Hub. “I’ll set up the lobby, just take the invite in a minute.”

  Kurt nodded in reply, sitting on the long, comfortable couch and putting his arms behind his head. Jimmy swiped at the air above his wrist and vanished, leaving Kurt to wait for the invite. It came a few seconds later and he swiped to accept it. The world around him faded to black.

  When his sense of sight began to load back in, he looked around to find himself sitting on another long, comfortable couch, but this one was a faded orange color and looked far more worn in than the one he had just left. He glanced around the room, taking in the red brick walls and single rounded light in the ceiling. It was a small room with no doors or windows. Only the couch and an empty coffee table adorned the area.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “This . . . is not a very nice lobby,” Kurt said.

  Jimmy was sitting on the other end of the couch. “Oh pardon me, your majesty. I don’t exactly spend a lot of time on this side of things, so you should probably curb your expectations. Tonight is very likely gonna hurt.” He swiped at his phone, ignoring his friend for a moment. “You wanna do a quick match before she gets back?”

  Kurt shrugged, leaning back. “Sure, man, whatever makes money. I’ve just been wasting it all day so far.”

  His friend grumbled something unintelligible from his side of the couch and continued swiping at his wrist. “Okay, here’s something. Two versus two deathmatch, rifles and shotguns. No immersive side gear or skills, just pickups.” He punched at the air above his wrist with a thumb, and Kurt received another invite. When he swiped to accept it, the room faded to black once more.

  When it faded back in, he and Jimmy were standing in front of a cheap-looking folding table loaded with military-style rifles and shotguns of various sizes and designs. He and Jimmy were wearing their basic clothing, Kurt in a black sweatshirt and pants, and Jimmy in his orange swimming trunks and white undershirt. They were surrounded on all sides by twelve foot-high blank concrete walls, leaving them only about a twenty square foot area. Jimmy smacked him on the chest and moved forward. “Get geared up, we only have thirty seconds. Match is five minutes.” He quickly grabbed a thin, black rifle and checked its magazine before slinging it over a shoulder and reaching for the various shotguns. His hand wavered over two of them, but he chose a short-barreled shotgun with a pistol grip and cradled it in his hands.

  Kurt hurriedly grabbed a wood stock AK 47 rifle and slung it, turning to look at the shotguns. “Which one?” He looked to Jimmy for guidance.

  Jimmy assessed the options. “Uh . . . here. Saiga. It’s magazine-fed, so should be easier for you.” He then squinted at the walls around them as a ghostly timer appeared, projected against them, and began counting down from ten. “You’ll have to pick up ammo in this, so be careful not to waste it. That thing has a ten round magazine, so you’re in good shape to start.”

  Kurt was mildly alarmed as his friend adopted a shooter’s stance, lifting his rifle to face the wall in front of them. The counter dropped to three and a loud chime sounded, counting down the last three seconds as the concrete walls began to rumble and slide into the ground.

  He looked around quickly, trying to take in his surroundings. Giant piles of iron girders and bags of concrete scattered the area surrounding a partially completed skyscraper. They appeared to be in the middle of a construction site, surrounded with heavy concrete walls that gouged their way skyward, forming a pyramid far overhead. He glanced at the incomplete building in front of them, gauging their area to be roughly a thousand yards across. Kurt noticed Jimmy ducked down, running away. He moved to follow, and everything went black to the sound of a gunshot.

  In the swirling dark that replaced his vision, Kurt saw a timer counting down from ten. When it reached zero, the world formed around him again, and this time he wasted no time in running for cover. Gunfire rent the air all around him, coming from three distinct locations, and when Kurt peeked his head over the large concrete block he had ducked behind he could see Jimmy engaged in a fight with two people hiding in the pillars on the ground floor of the incomplete building. He ran in a crouch to flank them and raised the AK 47 to his shoulder when he felt close enough to try a shot. It went wide, striking the ground near his target and immediately drawing his attention. The other player fired wildly at him while running to new cover, but a single, well-aimed shot from Jimmy to the back of his head had him falling to dust.

  Kurt scrambled to get into a new position, skidding to a stop as he noticed a leather satchel with various ammunition poking from it on a small, folding, metal chair pressed up against the foundation of the building. He stopped to grab the bag, and it immediately fell to dust as two large magazines deposited themselves in each of his front pants pockets. When he looked up to rejoin the fight, he saw a muzzle flash in front of him and everything went black again.

  The timer hit zero and he respawned, happy to feel the magazines still in his pockets. This time, he managed to find a place to take cover straight away, and as he ran he heard the full auto roar of a nearby rifle as rounds struck the ground all around him. Before he could make it to cover, everything went black and the countdown started again.

  The rest of the match played out frustratingly for Kurt, as he discovered a handful of details about the competitive side of the game. He could watch the two teams’ progress on his phone, which he did while trying to hide from his opponents. He was dragging their two-man team down, with the vast majority of the enemy’s points coming from killing him. Jimmy was holding his own and was a surprisingly good combatant, even without game skills aiding him. He continued to get kills and avoid getting killed, while Kurt felt like he was just flailing and getting himself shot over and over. Once the match ended, Kurt and Jimmy were shunted back into the lobby, and a scoreboard appeared on the wall opposite the couch.

  2 vs 2 Deathmatch

  Scrotal Torsion         Jurt & Kimmy

  14 kills              12 kills

  Scrotal Torsion Wins!

  “Could you maybe not name our team that?” Kurt managed to be annoyed in spite of having cost them the match. “Every time.”

  Jimmy grimaced at the other team’s name. “Better than Scrotal Torsion. Jeeze, that’s nightmare-inducing.” He nudged his friend in the ribs. “Almost as bad as your performance. Pretty sure you never even used the shotgun.”

  “Ha-ha, yes, I suck. Find us one with only pistols and I might drag us down slightly less.” Kurt scowled at the meager ten thousand dollar payout their team had received. “Only five K each for a loss. How much for a win?”

  “On a five minute two-v-two? Not much. Only thirty K total, I think.” He scowled, browsing his phone. “Ah, here we go. Two-v-two pistols only deathmatch. No immersion skills or gear. So same as that last one, but just pistols this time.”

  Kurt put on a tough face and nodded, accepting the invite as it arrived. They loaded into a new staging area, with linoleum floors beneath them, and white walls with red trim all around them. The selection of handguns was set on a hospital bed in front of them, giving a hint as to the setting this time around.

  While Jimmy grabbed the largest caliber handgun he could find — a thick matte black Desert Eagle — Kurt browsed a few of them before settling on his choice. He selected a gun with a steel slide and polished wood grip, scanning it for details.

  Sig Sauer P226

  Pistol. Sidearm. Deathmatch sidearms respawn with players upon death if lost or disarmed.

  Caliber: .40 S&W

  Rate of Fire: Semi-Automatic

  Capacity: 10 Round Magazine

  “Make a lot of noise for me, I’ll sneak up on ‘em.” Kurt gave Jimmy a quick smile.

  His friend scowled back, shaking his head. “As if I was gonna do anything else.” The ten second timer started.

  Kurt chuckled, gripping his temporary gun and staring at the clock, waiting to be unleashed this time.

  When the timer dropped from three, the walls around them lifted into the ceiling, exposing doors and windows. Kurt immediately pulled up his map and swiped to zoom in on the area, ducking through a nearby door and huddling behind a vending machine in the hallway. Jimmy jogged past, Desert Eagle gripped in a readied position. He stopped at a distant corner, raising a hand to wave at Kurt to get back. Gunfire erupted as two shooters started trying to hit Jimmy from the far end of the hallway.

  Kurt smiled as their dots became clear on the map, fresh pings hitting it with each gunshot. He ducked low, moving in a crouched run through the abandoned hospital rooms and hallways, glancing at his wrist from time to time to ensure he was on the right path. Jimmy occasionally leaned around a corner and squeezed off a few rounds, just to keep them interested. Kurt found them exactly where he expected them to be, one on either side of the far end of Jimmy’s hallway. They were taking turns firing down the hall at Jimmy, clearly invested in a straightforward fire fight. Kurt was only too happy to step out of the office behind them and fire a single shot into each of their surprised expressions.

  That tactic worked nicely for the next few rounds, and when they wised up to it and began watching their backs, Kurt just came at them from a different angle while Jimmy made it impossible for them to ignore him. It was a shutout, with the opposing team only getting a single kill on Jimmy, with what Kurt assumed was a lucky shot.

  They happily loaded back into the lobby, with Kurt looking particularly pleased with himself. His face fell as their payout came in exactly as Jimmy had predicted. Fifteen thousand each for a win felt a bit weak, and with their goal of two hundred million, it would take a lot of wins to make any kind of progress. Jimmy assured him it would go up to twenty thousand each once Gadot came in, but Kurt still sighed at the amounts.

  He began browsing the myriad game modes. The competitive side of the game was well named, as all the different game modes focused around the concept of at least somewhat fair and balanced competition. There were deathmatches and races in hundreds of flavors, with the option to create one from the lobby as well. Kurt played with that a little bit, getting a feel for the different options and customizable areas before returning to his idle browsing. He stumbled across a game mode that involved setting one team on top of a building with heavy sniper rifles while the other team used high powered super cars to jump carefully designed ramps, both sides only getting one life per player per round. The balance of that mode was questionable, but Kurt saw the appeal immediately, browsing the thousands of variations it had spawned.

  Jimmy interrupted, “Hey, I’m gonna unplug for a minute. You take host.” A prompt appeared, making Kurt the host of the lobby and transferring Gadot’s standing invite to him. As soon as he accepted, Jimmy swiped to log off and vanished. He got a text explaining he had pushed himself too hard during the day and just needed to take some meds. Kurt frowned at that, before going back to scanning game modes.

  Gadot popped into existence on the couch beside him, immediately moving over and giving the room one of her ‘this place is probably sticky’ looks. “Nice lobby,” she said with her lip curled in disdain.

  “It’s not my — never mind, I don’t care. Jimmy’ll be back soon.” Kurt looked at her for a moment, thinking about the events of the day. “Hey, Gadot . . . Summer?”

  That got her attention. “Gonna give me the ‘best friend’ speech?” She still had her lip curled, but it faded quickly as Kurt stared at her without saying anything for a moment.

  “No. He’s a grown man.” He paused there, looking back at his phone and speaking in a small voice. “Just . . . be good to him, please. He deserves better friends than me and Kitty.”

  She stared at him openly as Jimmy logged back in. He quickly looked back and forth between them, nodding with a smile. “You guys are talkin’ about me!”

  Gadot looked away from Kurt and forced an overly bright smile. “Yes! Yes, we were. Kurt was threatening me with violence if I made you cry. It was quite masculine and persuasive, I think I might be in love with him now. Sorry, Jimmy.” She cocked her head to the side and shrugged as Jimmy flopped onto the couch beside her and casually threw his arm around her shoulders. She did not push him away this time, leaning into him slightly.

  “Right on. Can I watch?” He looked at Kurt, making strong eye contact and raising his eyebrows twice.

  “Okay, time for a match!” Kurt hit the button for a random match, and both of his friends absently accepted the invite without reading it.

  They loaded into a floor-to-ceiling tiled room, with a strange table in front of them. The floor had several drains, and the table itself had one in its center, with a disturbing brown stain smeared around it. On the table was an assortment of melee weapons, most of them simple tools. Kurt shrugged and reached for a short-bladed knife, testing its edge against his thumb.

  “What mode is this?” Gadot looked around, clearly uncomfortable at the grungy surroundings.

  “I dunno, I just hit random to make Jimmy stop flirting with me.” Kurt shrugged at his friends’ incredulous looks.

  “Oh, man! You never play randoms, man. Never.” Jimmy sighed and turned to look at the table, pulling up his phone. “Okay, five minute three-vs-three deathmatch, melee weapons only.” He nodded. “Thisss . . . might be fine. We played the hell outta Brescia Online, we can probably take these guys.” Reaching for a hatchet, Jimmy swung it experimentally a couple of times.

  Gadot shrugged and picked up a long-handled sledge hammer, hefting it over one shoulder. “Well, I sucked at melee in that game. You guys will have to carry my sorry ass.”

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Odd weapon choice, then.”

  The timer interrupted them, going into its ten second countdown. “I’ll go scout out the enemy team and draw their attention,” Jimmy said. “Same old game, Kurt.” They bumped knuckles as the three second timer ran down. The walls slid down out of sight and Jimmy jogged off down the processing bay of what looked like a slaughterhouse, brushing past a series of meat hooks dangling from a track along the ceiling.

  “Just hang out here. We can sneak up on them when Jimmy gets their attention.” Kurt opened his map, scowling to see Jimmy’s dot moving back towards them at a high rate of speed. His friend slid around the corner, slipping on the wet floor before picking himself up and sprinting towards them.

  “Run! Run, they’re all wearing diapers! Just run!” Jimmy shouted as he ran past his wide-eyed friends. Kurt had not seen him this scared since their early days in Brescia.

  “Diapers?” Gadot was confused and clearly a little scared. She screamed as she saw their opposing team, taking an involuntary step back with her hand over her mouth. “Oh!”

  Three men wearing nothing but diapers and open-toed sandals came racing around the corner, each of them running at full speed and gripping various melee weapons. The one in front was uttering a deep-voiced and disjointed giggle that set Kurt’s hair on edge. The leader ran the edge of his bowie knife across his bald scalp before pointing its freshly blooded blade directly at Kurt. The man behind him was heavily overweight and unhealthily pale, with a similarly stubbled head but bushy, full beard. He grunted and snorted in exertion as he sprinted shockingly fast towards them, raising a pickaxe over his head. The third man beside him wore a bright yellow, smiley face-style hockey mask, smeared with bloody fingerprints, with long, dark hair poking out around it on all sides. He screamed in a high-pitched and fear-filled voice as he approached, gripping a simple hammer. “STOP ME!! PLEASE STOP ME!!”

  The next five minutes passed at an achingly slow rate. None of them attempted to fight more than once, instead running and hiding from their opponents to run out the clock without being brutalized. They failed, several times. When they loaded back into the lobby it was a massive relief.

  Gadot hunched forward, her head in her hands, as Jimmy glared at Kurt. Without warning, she sat up straight, clapping her hands together. “Thank you, Kurt. That may have actually been the worst five minutes of my entire life.” She swiped at her phone. “You guys have fun. I’m gonna go run a few races and wash the taste of . . . that out of my brain. Back in a bit.” Her hands shook as she swiped to log out of the lobby.

  “Good work.” Jimmy lounged back against the couch, stretching his legs with a grunt. He casually glanced over at his friend. “So. What did you learn?”

  Kurt continued staring at the floor. “Never play randoms.” It was a whisper.

  He blinked a few times before both men spoke at the same time. “Never.”