Marcus walked away from the stall with high spirits. 2000c per kilo at the minimum, they were looking at 500c profit after the cost of scrounging up enough ammo for a kilo of the stuff and transporting it to the ship. They would have to trade for bulk if they are to see a considerable profit from the trade, or simply find ways of lowering their expenses further. Marcus was thinking up on ways when he got a PM from Ylenka.

Ylenka: Hey. I heard you’re back on the ship. Go to the smoking barrels. The first drink is on me.

Hartdegen: Sure. I’ll be there in five.

Marcus headed for the elevator, weaving through the crowd when he noticed a group following him. He wouldn’t have noticed if not for Ylenka’s message, making him stop to reply. Marcus stopping suddenly made them pause in their step and turn to the nearby stalls to make them look as if they were naturally browsing, but it was enough to make him notice.

There were five of them, scattered along the market and was closing in. Their identical patterned camouflage jackets that made is easier for identifying friends from foe made it a dead giveaway for Marcus to recognize them in a group.

Still, he was in no danger. The ship is a safe area, and he was curious why they were tailing him.

He reached the elevator first. The door started closing only for it to be opened back up by one in the group. The rest followed, and Marcus stood by the side. He kept the wall on his back as the group crowded the elevator.

Looking at the group, Marcus couldn’t help but be impressed. Each person in their group fitted a dedicated role for an effective squad. Their DMR was armed with a tricked out M14 with the EBR chassis with a bipod attachment and a high-powered scope. A couple of M4a1s both fitted with holographic sights, one fitted with a 3x magnifier and a finicky bipod foregrip, likely for their assaulter, while the other sported an underbarrel M240 grenade launcher for their grenadier, a M16a4 fitted with a 4x ACOG scope for their medic and an M249 with a magnified prism scope mounted on its top cover.

It was a solid composition. Except for their DMR, the rest could share ammo between them. The group could lay down an effective ambush using their machineguns and rifle fire. The DMR could pick off individual targets while the grenade launcher could take out enemies hiding behind cover. If their synergy on their weapon selection was any close to their teamwork, then they would be a pain to fight on the field.

“Nice guns.” Marcus said.

“Thanks.” One of them answered. He carried the M4a1 with the underbarrel grenade launcher and Marcus pegged him as their leader.

“You guys were following me.”

“That’s right.” He replied.

Name: Hoplite Race: Human Player ID: 499737849546 Level: 23

“Were here to tell you to stay away from Columbus. If you have a shared quest with him, then leave it be and fail it. If not, then we will put a bounty on your head and kill you on sight.”

“Should you at least buy me a drink first before threatening me?” Marcus replied in a flat tone. Even though he wouldn’t have a good chance of winning with a fight with the group, he knew he could get away from them easily. He could, of course, leave Columbus out to dry. But since he had taken the pay, he needed to see it all through. “Let me ask you one thing. Will you do the same? Leave one of your boys hanging because some guys tell you to or else?”

Hoplite paused, sending a glance to the side. “No.”

“Then you got your answer.” Marcus replied, “I wouldn’t either.”

“That’s a shame.” He muttered. But since the elevator was still descending to the lower level, all of them fell into an awkward silence.

Curious, Marcus asked, “Is this personal for you? Because It’s all business for me.”

“I see. That explains how he got you, but you should know that he’s got a reputation among the higher leveled players. There’s a reason he runs alone.” Hoplite answered, “As for your question, yes. It’s personal for all of us.”

“Thanks. But as long as I get paid, I’ll still be on his side.” Marcus said as the elevator arrived and the doors opened. “See you out there.”

“You won’t.” He smirked.

Marcus nodded, making his way out and leaving the group as they stayed behind. It would complicate things.

Attention!

Friend request received from player: Hoplite

Player ID: 499737849546

Accept? [Y/N]

He looked behind him to catch Hoplite give him a salute as the elevator doors closed and came back up. Knowing that they won’t be able to track him with being on a friends’ list, Marcus accepted.

Still, having a warning was a godsend. Marcus didn’t see the group to be the one to give empty threats, nor do they look unable to follow up on it.

Walking away, Marcus knew he needed his own crew. The problem was finding a competent group that will run with him and be dependable. Rex and Anna were first to mind, but he couldn’t just call them to fight while outnumbered and outgunned.

Marcus sighed. It looked like he would have to keep his head down for a while and move silently about while traversing the city. The things they said were enough to make Marcus think. Even though Marcus feeling that he owed Columbus, he was quick to buddy up with the Goblin chief. Making Marcus only an afterthought and made a gopher to finish up his quest for him, giving Hoplite’s insinuations some merit.

It was a good thing Marcus started making his own moves back then, as it would cushion him from the effects if Columbus decides to drop him.

“Hey Hart!” Ylenka yelled as Marcus entered the Smoking barrels. Following the yell, He found her sitting alone on a small circular table in the corner facing the door.

She wore the same field gray coveralls noobs wore around the ship. Whether it was to blend in, Marcus didn’t know. Looking around her, she doesn’t seem to be bothered by the attention being sent her way as Marcus waved back in her direction. Players looked his way with narrowed eyes and Marcus wondered what kind of situation he found himself in now.

Sighing, Marcus approached the table, weaving between the chairs and tables scattered about sitting the other players populating the bar. Marcus arrived at the table and pulled up a seat.

Ylenka looked up at Marcus with a sly grin and pointed over to the tall glass of water waiting on his side of the table.

“Here’s your drink,” she said, grinning.

“It’s water.” Marcus said, taking a seat.

“I know.” She said, laughing. “It’s on me.”

Marcus grunted and drank the glass of water. “So what’s the real reason you called me here?” he asked. “I hope I didn’t make you go broke with that bet we made.”

Ylenka smiled, “I called you here,” pausing and leaning forward towards the table. “Because I want to know what I had been missing after losing to you in that match.”

Marcus smiled, leaning back in his chair. “You know I can’t tell you that. If you really want to know it that bad, you can just ask the man himself.”

“Pretty hard to do since I can’t reach him.” She said, leaning back too in a relaxed pause, “Since he’s still online, that meant that he’s in some place that can’t be easily accessed. That means dungeons, or facilities. But with you here, means that its something else.”

Marcus said nothing. Pleading the fifth, he only went for a simple shrug.

She smiled. “Not going to tell?”

Marcus traced my fingers on my lips as if it was a zipper. “Not at all.”

“Even if I offer another million credits?”

“Now that’s just insulting.” Marcus sighed, getting off his seat. “I might be paid by the hour, but I’m no snitch and no turncoat either. If you’re just going to waste my time with this bullshit, I need to be someplace else.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ylenka replied, waving him down. “I’m sorry. I’m just curious, you know? You have to give me that, right?”

Marcus sighed, sitting back down. “Last chance.”

“Okay. Let me order you a drink.”

“Beer.”

“You still remember my your part in our bet?”

“I’ll teach you to get to the top.”

She nodded. “Same deal. I’ll pay you for it.”

Marcus watched the woman sitting in front of him. Surely it can’t be that straightforward. Still, this could be an opportunity for him.

“I don’t need money right now.” Marcus replied. His new business venture with Bo might need an upfront capital, but he could pull some from his unconverted credits. What he needed is something that will be hard to buy with credits. “You can pay me with a favor that I can call in later.” Marcus said, sipping his beer.

“That’s fine.”

“I’m free for the rest of the day. We could start after this. And feel free to call in the rest of your boys.”

“You want to include them?”

Marcus shrugged. “Why not? I’ll just be instructing you on what to do. All the heavy lifting will be on your side from all the boring repetition until it comes as easy as breathing. I’ll just be there to correct any issues I find.”

“Okay. I’ll call them up.”

Ylenka’s team lined up in Stoner’s range. No shots rang out. Instead, was the sound of hammers hitting empty chambers and metal falling. They were practicing the coin drill and were failing.

Previously, Marcus had demonstrated the drill by laying a washer on the end of his suppressor and balanced it. Hoping that he won’t fail and embarrass himself, he pulled the trigger. With a steady pressure pressed against the trigger, the sear broke and the hammer fell into an empty chamber. The rifle clicked, and the washer jumped in place, but didn’t fall.

He then explained the utility of the drill. Even though the sights have been lined up perfectly, just enough movement from a finger putting more force than necessary on a trigger was enough to shift the aim just enough to miss. At close range, the effect was not as pronounced, but it was not an excuse to ignore it entirely. It was called a foundation. It should be the first thing to be built up, and the stronger it is, the better.

Marcus took another drag from his cigarette as he watched Ylenka mess her trigger pull once more and drop the washer. She kept messing despite close attention and instructions given to her.

Marcus picked it off the table and balanced and balanced it on the end of her rifle. A HK G36C she had changed from the AKS-74U Marcus first saw her with. It was missing the top rail spanning most of the rifle and was fitted with a red dot sight sitting atop a riser and short fore grip and light, following Marcus’ advice on the priority of attachments to put in a rifle.

Panning his gaze over the rest, with varying results. “Hey Ylenka, what Dex are you at?” He asked. Ylenka was the lowest leveled player in their group, which also meant she had the lowest stats.

“Four. Why?”

‘That doesn’t seem right,’ Marcus frowned. He had the same points in Dexterity, but Ylenka was still failing miserably. “What about the sniper guy?” he asked, failing to remember his name.

“Hey Roland, tell me your Dex.” She shouted over.

“Twelve, why?”

“Oh, I see.” Ylenka nodded. “You think that has something to do with it?”

“Probably,” Marcus shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to work on me though.”

“Must be another hidden mechanic. At least we found one.”

“We think we found one. At least that’s were testing out.” Marcus said, then stood up to turn to the rest of the group. He whistled for a pause and waited as everyone settled to face him. “Alright. First thing, good job for all of you. You guys have been doing great so far. I think we should try shooting live ammo for a while to see if it works.”

“What? You mean you made us do all of that and didn’t even know if it worked?” Someone asked from the group. Marcus didn’t catch who it is but answered anyway.

“That’s right. There’s a reason I had you guys record your shots so we could get a before and after. Scientific like. Can’t really make myself the benchmark, so I needed some controlled data to compare from.” Marcus grinned.

“If works, then you can expect that the information will not leak into the paid forums, at least not from us.” Ylenka said.

“Nah. It’s all good if you do, just make sure to give me my cut.” Marcus replied. If not already well known, the information would fetch a pretty penny in the private forums as they are sold per view. Still, getting established in the forums as a trusted source would need a long time and effort, which Marcus couldn’t afford. Giving someone else the information would be better, as long as he gets his cut on the profits.

Everyone in the team gathered and lined up in front of their targets. Marcus nodded as they practiced proper muzzle discipline. They were doing it instinctively, pointing their muzzles at the ceiling or on the ground whenever their teammates walked in front of them and took their position.

Marcus took another drag as everyone raised their weapons and fired at their targets. They all carried with them HK weapons with two G36C, a G36 with an underbarrel grenade launcher, an MP5 and two G3s. But with a practiced eye, Marcus recognized Roland’s rifle as an MSG90, the accurized version of the HK G3. The extended barrel nut and the reinforcements on the receiver were a dead giveaway. That, along with the integrated bipod and the high-powered scope, he should be able to make shots within a kilometer with ease.

Watching the team perform before, Marcus observed their solid relationship with each other. He guessed they were all coworkers, with Ylenka being their boss by the way they treated her, compared with the others. They were cordial with her and with an underlying control and difference against her relaxed posture.

They were professional, respectful, and eager to learn. Their enthusiasm made up for Marcus' inexperience. They listened and held on to every word he said as if it was gospel.

They might give him lip from time to time, but that was all. They had seen his placement in the top rankings, now nearing the weekly reset, and it had given him immediate standing between all of them.

The room filled with the cacophony of half a dozen rifles firing at the same time. It then staggered as each shooter took to their own comfortable pace on making their best shot and tightest groups. Marcus took another drag as he watched the displays showed better precision than before. With just a single drill, Marcus tightened their shot groups.

With ten shot groups finished, everyone looked at the results and shared a collective smile. A couple was already reloading their rifles to take shots at the targets as to make sure it was not a fluke, but Marcus knew it wasn’t.

“Thanks. We owe you now.” Ylenka said.

“Keep practicing. Adding stats might help you with your problem, but you’re still the one making the shot, not your character.” Marcus said and turned away.

Attention!

After meeting the hidden requirements, you unlocked the job: Mercenary.

All skill restrictions lifted

Ability to write contracts

Unable to join any faction

+ fame and relation for every contract accomplished

- fame and relation for every contract failed or abandoned

Accept? [Y/N]

Marcus read the description and chose yes. It was perfect for him. Unlike other jobs that give bonus stats or effects to specific tools or weapons, the job of mercenary allowed him the highest flexibility with the exclusive skill of being able to write up contracts when working with somebody. It meant that he won’t be tied up to someone else’s success, but only for the completion of the contract itself.

With a grin, he read another notification popping on his screen.

Attention!

Congratulations Take skill: Instruction?

Increases the learning speed of NPCs under your tutelage. Speed depends on the current level of skills being taught and level of instruction skill.

Skill slots available: 3

Accept? [Y/N]

Increases the learning speed of NPCs under your tutelage. Speed depends on the current level of skills being taught and level of instruction skill.

Marcus paused as he read the notification. Teaching NPCs, the next step would only mean that he could recruit them. Maybe with a contract? Marcus asked himself, grinning. Maybe, but there’s only one way to find out; do it himself.

And he had the perfect place in mind to test the limits of his specialization.

If there were other players with the same job as him, they were keeping it close to heart. He tried looking, but other than the normal specializations, there was nothing else posted in the paid forums. It was after he discovered Columbus with his unique job that he tried scouring the forums, looking for ways to get himself a unique job, but found nothing. Only information regarding normal jobs was available, which didn’t bring any interest to him.

Marcus walked back to the tables and picked up his rifle. He checked the magazine to make sure it was loaded and went to an empty lane to practice. His mind came back to the group threatening him. He could, of course, call in his favor from Ylenka to help him take care of it, but doing it this early would only be a waste. It would be better if he try to figure out a way through his predicament by himself.

Pushing the thought aside, Marcus continued on to focus on his practice. He fell into his zen state as all that matters was his movements. Deliberately, he slowed his movements to make sure he did everything correctly, to which he continued to increase his pace until his actions sunk deeper into muscle memory.

The leaderboards were also approaching its weekly reset and what better way to advertise his name than keep it on the top of the list. To make sure to anyone doubting that his placement was not a fluke. Still, with the board resetting this midnight, he didn’t have time to place his name on the top as he needed to prepare for transporting the goods he bought for the station.

He then stopped and looked around to notice that everyone else had filled out of the range, save for the lone sound of metal clinking against metal. He looked over in the direction to find Ylenka practicing her pulls alone.

“Maybe you should take a break.” Marcus called as he approached the table, “The thing about repetitive action is that you could also get bad habits dialed in along with good ones.”

Ylenka looked up at him and sighed. “You’re right. Maybe I should.”

“You mind me asking why you’re trying this hard?” Marcus asked, pulling a folding chair out and sat with the back rest between his legs.

“Depends if you tell me how you got this good?” Ylenka replied, leaning back in her seat, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

Marcus chuckled. “I was never that good.”

“Is that you trying to be modest or being honest?”

“Just being realistic.”

“I think you need to adjust your expectations. What you think, as the average shooter back in your time, is extremely different now. To us, you are an expert despite what you think of yourself.”

“Smart girl.” Marcus smiled, “Since when did you know?”

“Since now, you just confirmed it.” She smiled back. “Hartdegen, the time traveler. There was a running theory in our group, you having a direct experience was one of it.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“The opposite, actually. I’m a curator of in a museum and would appreciate if you take the time to visit our collection.”

“We’ll see. I’m kind of busy at the moment.” Marcus replied. Still, visiting a museum doesn’t look too bad as something to do in his free time.

“Okay. Maybe we should continue this some other time then. I need to log out anyway. Bye.”

“Yeah, bye. Also, I won’t be here tomorrow. Just like I said, all you and your boys need to do is keep practicing and raising your dexterity until you could pull your trigger without jerking them. After that, we can talk more with ways of shooting faster and farther.”

“We’ll see what we can do.” She said, leaving.

Marcus watched her cross the range as he stayed behind. He then pulled up his PKM and fiddled around with it. One downside of not using the game’s Combat assistance system was that he had to know the manual of arms of guns. He was lucky that Kalashnikov built the PKM with the thought of minimally trained conscripts using it in battle. If he was to gift the weapon to the chief, he would have to teach how to use the weapon along with maintaining it.

Running through the instructions given by Stoner, Marcus popped the top cover off and to inspect the feed tray, he then lifted it to confirm an empty chamber and laid the belt on top. Lining it, he closed the cover and racked the charging handle. Now, the machinegun was loaded and ready to go.

Marcus repeated the motions again and again. Deliberate and slow, he steadily hammered the motions into his memory until he could finish reloading the machinegun while putting the bare amount of attention to doing it.

Tomorrow, he would have to take merchandise worth a hundred thousand credits through dangerous territory and make sure that it arrives at its destination. That, along with the threat of a well-armed group gunning for him all for some personal beef they have with his employer, that he would rather do without.

Marcus sighed. He isn’t getting paid enough for this.