Marcus checked at his still recharging shields and frowned as he tried to remember when he got hit. He didn’t notice from the chaos of the short firefight let a lot of lead flying around the tight confines of the tunnels explained some ricochets hitting him but a niggling thought in the back of his mind told him that some hits he sustained came from the goblins behind him.

Looking down at the gathered pile, he wouldn’t have to think hard of the reason of someone trying to merc him for the loot. From that quick engagement, Marcus bagged three of the players, and so most of it belonged to him. Of course, he planned to share some with the chief to keep him in friendly terms but even with that, there was still a lot left for him.

On his feet lay load bearing vests, three pairs of night vision goggles along with their helmet mounts, ammo, two energy weapons and one of the many guns Marcus knew he’d only hold and look at in games.

VSK-94

A variant of the 9A-91 compact assault rifle. Manufactured out of stamped sheet metal with a dovetail mount, polymer handguard, and a skeletonized lightweight stock.

Weight: 3.1 kg (3 Str.)

Caliber: 9x39mm

Mods: NSPU-M Night scope

From what Marcus knew, the Russians developed it to make a cheaper silenced sniper rifle alternative for the Russian military, other than the VSS or the AS VAL. Marcus held the weapon in his hands and marveled at the compactness and how light it was. He never considered himself a Russophile, but he could always appreciate the philosophies that were involved in designing Russian small arms; mass production and simplicity, for its millions of conscripts and just accurate enough to do the job done.

Of course, he could still appreciate his sub MOA AR-10, but he had shot it so much that all the novelty had changed into the mundane. Here, he was holding something he consider as unobtainable and couldn’t help but look forward to shooting it.

Shouldering the stock, he looked through the night vision scope installed on the weapon and already knew he might have a new favorite rifle.

Looking up, the chief finished dealing with his people in the aftermath of the quick firefight. Marcus laid the rifle down and approached him. The chief then caught him in his gaze, then to the pile of captured gear set aside.

“Good kills.” The chief said as Marcus approached.

Marcus nodded. He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he instead tried to shift it to another subject entirely. “How are your subordinates? I hope there aren’t that much casualties.”

“They will come back. And will learn their lesson.” The chief replied. “Now. I want to know who attacked.”

Marcus pulled out the three dog tags marking the names of the players and handed it to him.

Dogtags:

Player: Zim ID: 057637191233

Lvl 29

Player: Greed ID: 942932237683

Lvl 32

Player: Frostbite ID: 298545908770

Lvl: 31

Their names meant nothing to him, but their levels worried him for a bit, as they were all around the level of thirty. It was the highest Marcus had ever seen and was surprised that he could even take them out given the level disparity. Knowing that he had loaded his rifle with AP rounds before in that firefight, he noted he should buy more to even out the playing field.

Still, it was a shame they all died. It would have been nice to have a chance to try and interrogate one of them, but Marcus didn’t kid himself that they’ll just tell him their intentions. Their gear they brought could also clue them in on their intentions. From the amount of ammunition they brought, its easy to say that they came here for a long fight.

The chief handed back the tags, then started ordering his goblins to check out the rest of the tunnel. Marcus caught the chief was furious. There was a bit of snarling involved from his chittering commands to his people, along with his openly bared fangs.

With nothing to do and seeing as there was little chance of a follow up attack, Marcus extended an offer to join, which was quickly accepted.

It was the station’s A team. The Chief’s personal bodyguards led the eight goblin team armed with the same shotguns Marcus was carrying on his back earlier in the day. Unlike the disorganized mob manning the defenses, they moved with ease and discipline as they single filed down the station and dropped into the rails.

Marcus was an attachment, a backup and an added firepower, so he trailed at the back of the line. It was fine with him; he didn’t mind as it allowed for him to watch their movements while taking notes of the good practice along with catching the bad.

Marcus jumped into the tracks, and he lowered the thermals to his eyes. He saw a clear black and white tunnel mouth superimposed with his other unaided MK1 eyeballs, who saw nothing but the dark mass of a lightless subway.

Bo was ahead, standing on top of a ladder, looking over the destroyed sentry gun. Marcus sent him a wave as they passed him by.

“How’s it looking?” Marcus asked.

“It’s looking bad. The penetrator went through everything like butter. If the copper jet didn’t take out the electronics, then the heat did.” Bo replied, looking down.

Marcus nodded and followed along the procession. He knew was lucky he was equipped with a thermal scope instead of a pair of NVGs. It gave him the slightest bit of advantage against the attackers, which in the end, turned out to be just enough.

If it weren’t for that, he knew they could be counted a lot more casualties, and maybe Marcus could be part of them.

Luckily, the tunnels outside the wire were clear. There weren’t any reinforcements. There were traces of fighting seeing the corpses of Malifs scattering an intersection in the rails, likely killed by the attackers in their approach. There, they also found their stashed bags containing more ammunition, meds, and more supplies.

Goblins walked the line and went for the dead Malifs, likely going for their meat when an idea occurred. “Stop! Don’t touch that. Leave it where it is.” He said, already remembering stories of how Iraqis and Afghans went about hiding explosives inside carcasses and wherever to lure in and harm unsuspecting soldiers.

Like one of his friends usually say; ‘when shit goes down, don’t fight like soldiers, fight like insurgents.’

Marcus checked his inventory and smiled as barely touched his stock. It should be enough, but it’s going to take almost all of his explosives making the booby traps. But first, it would be better if he sell them to the chief first then have his plan ready on where to best place them.

With more loot than he could carry, Bo’s machine shop was the only place in the station where he could store it. Entering the shop, Marcus found the goblins cleaning the rust off salvaged parts and coating them in a light layer of grease. Bo was nearby, busy cleaning his weapon, which Marcus wondered if he ever even fired it during the fight.

“Yo. You mind if I keep these in your shop while I look for the chief?” He asked.

“Go ahead. But can I look at the tags?” Bo asked as he looked up from the bench. Intrigued, Marcus handed over the tags and watched Bo as he read who they belonged to and caught a silent curse uttered under his breath.

“You know these guys?” Marcus asked as Bo handed the tags back.

“I do.” Bo answered, shyly looking away. He then looked back at Marcus, then continued. “We had been playing with each other for a few days at the beginning of the game but had a falling out. They wanted to attack the station and pillage it for all its worth. I disagreed. I didn’t want to play the game that way.”

“Seeing that you’re here and they’re over there. I’m guessing you fucked them over?” Marcus replied.

Bo nodded, digging into his pockets then handing over the same tags, but showing lower levels. “I let myself get captured. All I had to lose from getting killed by then is my shitty gear, so made them a deal. The station back then barely had enough power for the lights, so the chief accepted my offer. I restored power, just barely, and then rerouted enough to feed the sentry guns guarding the doors. I activated them right on time when they were in the middle of their attack. The gun’s programming was glitched at first, so it killed Crusty and his team, along with some goblins. I almost got killed too, but after a reset and finding the control panels and hacking into them, I managed to set the defenses to where they are now.”

“Level 20.” Marcus replied, remembering the first time.

Bo nodded. “I thought that the turret should be able to deter them for more time, but it seems that I was wrong about that.”

“So, I guess you don’t mind then?” Marcus asked, miming pulling a trigger.

“No.” Bo shook his head. “I didn’t know them that well, but with the little time I spent with them, I wouldn’t stop you on hunting them down. They take care of each other but weren’t saints either. PKing them will only be karma since I confirmed it myself that they had been doing it ever since the game started.”

“Right.” Marcus nodded. “Then I need you to try to think of why they are here now. Knowing the reason for attacking gives us a leg up in the defense.”

“I can’t I just teamed up with them for a short while. They needed my skills, and we all knew that our group will only last a short while so they didn’t reveal much about their plans. I only knew that I gleaned.”

“Just try.” Marcus replied, “even a guess is better than nothing.”

Bo nodded, deep in thought. “I don’t know. All I could think about right now is that they’re looking for territory. They were a part of a 40 man clan, SRT. And what I heard about them is that they’re competing with another clan that’s just a bit smaller than them. They were tight-lipped about it, but I think their leader, Crusty, is trying to rise in their ranks. I don’t know for certain, but I think they think they want to take this place and make it a territory of their own.“

“Well, shit.” Marcus replied. 40 players. Given that most of them will be at a combat capacity, the only advantage the station has in its defense is its bottleneck. There is no place to flank the station, which meant that any effective attack would have to go through the railways. But the problem they have now is that they don’t have enough guns and training to hold an effective defense since even a five-man group could pressure their line enough to have it close to breaking.

Still, with all he had riding on him being the sole supplier of that prized mushroom tea. Marcus had to try to hold. “I guess that explained the chief’s reaction to seeing their names. You think the chief will allow me to get myself some goblins to work under me now?”

Bo shrugged. “He would be stupid if he won’t. But we both know he’s far from that.”