‘I should have known better.’ Crusty muttered to himself as he walked north from the ship. He didn’t want to use the Guild’s transport as someone would surely notice them respawning back at the ship along with the decline in their quality of gear. All of them had to use their backup loadouts, their old gear which they had grown out of or just bought as they happened upon them on the cheap.

Crusty leapt down a pile of rubble and landed in the middle of the road. Kneeling, he scanned his surroundings with his bare bones AK-74 and ran towards the nearest cover. Getting closer to the TAS headquarters, it was prudent to keep alert as the clan could have easily sent in their own members to pick off anyone they could.

Behind him, boots landed on the concrete, followed by footsteps heading his way. They went past him as they took cover inside the building. A tap on his shoulder by the last man in the line caused him to stand up and follow inside.

“The outpost should be five hundred meters further up north.” Crusty said to everyone as he checked his map. He caught Zim pointedly looking at him, to which he looked away.

“Don’t beat yourself about it man, we all know what we’re going into.” He said.

“I heard that they were trying to recruit the guy that killed us.” Frostbite chimed in.

“I guess we don’t need to know why. Makes me wonder why they let us attack him in the first place.” Disfigured said.

Crusty didn’t want to answer the question, as even he didn’t like the answer he could provide. Thankfully, Zim answered for him. “Because if we managed to kill him, then he wasn’t as good as they thought he was. Now, they only want to recruit him even more. Win-win for the leadership, for us, not so much.”

“I think it’s best if everything said here stays here.” Crusty declared. “Even if we call them out for it, they will just deny it. And we don’t have any substantial evidence to support it . They could also even turn it around and claim that we’re shirking our guild duties to go on personal errands instead of participating in the attack.”

“I fucking hate politics, man. Remember when we were just a bunch of idiots running around and having some fun?” Disfigured replied.

“It all changed when that guy came around.” Frostbite muttered.

“We should move.” Crusty said, not willing to continue the conversation any longer. “Remember, everything said here, stays here.”

“Got it.” Frostbite said, and everyone nodded.

Crusty led the way ahead. They moved at a good pace towards the outpost when he saw something moving in the distance. Looking closer, whatever it was, it disappeared inside the outpost before he could make out more of its features. He shrugged, waving for the others to follow, when gunfire erupted up ahead.

In response, everyone ran into cover. The reaction had been automatic, and they all hunkered down as the volume increased towards a full blown firefight.

They each watched their sectors, fearing an ambush. The quick reaction force should have been mobilized the moment the attack was reported, Crusty thought, so he waited and watched, debating his choices as he clutched his rifle and peered over the rusted car he was using as cover.

“Alright.” Crusty called after a minute of no contact from anyone in the building. He then turned around to face his waiting team. “Up ahead is the outpost, which should mean that our guys there are fighting some TAS detachment. They’ll need all the help they can get and the QRF is surely on the way. Right now, we’re likely the closest unit around that’s in range to respond and maybe we could establish an ambush. Whoever is attacking the outpost, they will most likely run away the moment the trucks come in. The QRF should be able to get into radio range any minute now which we can use to coordinate further decisions. Any questions?”

Nothing.

“Alright. Let's move out.” Crusty said.

As everyone moved out of cover, the fire fight ahead developed to its fullest. All manners of guns were firing. The team ran, trying to cover as much ground as safely as they could. They managed to get within a hundred meters of the outpost, only for it to peter out. Concerned, Crusty rushed ahead. They needed to get there faster in case their side was at the losing end, their involvement would likely turn the tide.

Knowing that his brother was in the outpost, he kept his status window open, watching Demented’s online status. Closer now, Crusty managed to hear chatter coming from the rest of the clan. “QRF, QRF, what is your status? This is Crusty. We are south side of the building. Advise, over.”

“Roger that. What is your position over?”

“100 meters south of the outpost. We are on foot and are unlikely to have been spotted. Over.”

“Roger that. Establish base of fire and provide overwatch facing the south side of the building. We are currently breaking off from a current engagement. We will come from the north once we finish up here. If able, widen your base so we catch them on their retreat, over.”

“Roger.”

“Oh they’re fucked.” Disfigured said, wearing a feral grin. With the losses they had taken thus far, it was easy to guess why he was eager to PK somebody.

“Not yet,” Crusty replied, looking up at the buildings. None of them gave the perfect angle to cover the building. Probably why the clan chose the location in the first place, only for that exact design decision to come and bite them in the ass.

Crusty ordered his men to go ahead, running towards the gunfire as fast as possible in hopes of helping with the defense, only for it to peter down suddenly after an explosion erupted inside the building. Crusty looked at his friends list and confirmed that Demented had logged out. It only meant one thing.

“Demented is dead.” Crusty declared as they came within close sight of the building. The tight zoning of the buildings allowed short lines of sights on the street level, but excellent lines of sights atop the buildings. Unfortunately, getting atop the buildings was a death sentence as it would only expose them on the roofs with no cover.

“What’s the plan?”

“We keep moving.” Crusty replied, “We get as close as we can to the building entrance and catch them on the way out. If we take them out that way, then good, but we should at least do our best to keep them in the building for the QRF to arrive. After that, it’s game over for them.”

Disfigured grinned. “That’s as good a plan as any.”

Marcus laid on the ground, watching the black hornet hover above him. He wanted nothing more than to take a breather following that clusterfuck, but he still needed to get out of the area along with everybody else before the SRT’s quick reaction force arrives. They could, of course, try to ambush them, but that would require making a hastily prepared position which would only end up with most of them dead, if they were lucky.

“Hey Scion, you got that recorded, right?” Marcus asked, knowing that a third person view of the fight would be much better than his recording. “Can I get a copy?”

“The file size is 4.7 terabytes. Would you like me to send it to you now?”

‘Well fuck,‘ Marcus thought to himself as he slowly got off the floor. He didn’t even know if he had that much storage, and how the hell could a file get that big. “Probably later. Ask me again when we get out of this place.”

“Affirmative.”

“We’re coming up the second floor. Hartdegen, you still alive?” Ylenka asked through the radio.

“Demented is taken cared off. Fucker blew himself up trying to get me.” Marcus replied, feeling the shrapnel in his legs. The issue of his pain filters not working was starting to rear its head. Still, he was getting paid for it, more specifically, his data, which likened him to something like an underpaid stunt man. ‘Well, at least I don’t risk personal injury, I think’ Marcus thought to himself.

“We have sixty seconds left. You found any equipment we could take?”

“On the third floor, a machine gun position in the room overlooking your positions. I popped three of them there. I’ll see what I can get off this guy.”

“Got it. Going there now.”

Marcus stumbled into the other room and found Demented, blown by his own grenade. Marcus first picked up his own rifle by the corner, then started to look for Demented’s M110, just in case. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find it and with the time he had left, wasn’t likely to.

Marcus knelt and touched Demented’s body to loot it. His corpse despawned and was replaced with an M110 with its barrel buried in the concrete. He then opened the looting interface.

Loot

2x M61 Grenades,

1x Rations,

24 rounds 9x19mm AP6.3

Glock 34 TTI Combat Master

‘Can’t even loot the asshole’s rifle.’ Marcus muttered. Pulling out the unidentified Glock, he was surprised as he saw the stats. It would do well as a second loadout’s sidearm.

Attention!

Glock 34 TTI Combat Master

Previous owner[s]: Demented; ID: 710010809715.

Built from a common Glock 17, it has been modified by an expert gunsmith per the previous owner’s specifications. The gun was modified with a custom grip stippling for better traction, slide cuts for lighter recoil impulse, fiber optic sights for easier sight alignment along with red dot cutouts, and a crisp two pound trigger. Using aftermarket parts for the internals, the weapon is built with better durability and reliability.

This is a custom weapon built for the specifications of the owner. Effects are:

.5x chance of dropping upon death

.9x recoil

Lighter trigger for faster fire rate

Caliber: 9x19mm

Familiarity: 0

Requirement: None

Weight: .7 Kg

Firing Mode: Semi-automatic

Mods: Red dot sight

% Drop chance on death: 50%*

*Drop chance is calculated with a base chance of 100% reduced by additional factors like weapon modifications and familiarity.

“Well shit.” Marcus muttered. Looking over at the Glock’s stats. The modifications on the Glock turned its drop chance into a coin flip. Marcus spent a few more seconds looking for the discarded rifle in the other rooms when their timer was about to run out, hoping against chances that the rifle was considered as discarded and left within the game to be picked up. Coming up with nothing, he made for the stairs and met Ylenka on the floor below with two of her team, Seidel and Heckler. Razer, the TAS representative, was among them too, along with the pair of goblins. They had all finished up looting and were all waiting on him.

With a sigh, Marcus thanked his lucky stars that his goblins were still alive. It spared him the worry of not being sure if he met the morale threshold of having the two respawn on their own.

“What’s the take?” Marcus asked the gathered group. Everyone’s packs were filled to the brim as Ylenka tossed him his own backpack filled with their ill-gotten gains. He spared a moment to open the pack and refilled his vest with all the magazines and grenades. Finished, he felt a sense of safety from his vest’s weight.

“M240, a few hundred rounds in belts, three M4s with a holographic sight, more ammo along with a single-use RPG with some grenades. You? What did the big guy have?” Ylenka asked, signalling for two of her boys to go ahead and cover their egress point.

“Just a pistol. Didn’t get his rifle, it didn’t drop since it’s a custom build.”

“Unlucky. It would have been a good proof of kill.”

“The pistol is a custom build too.” Marcus replied. “His name is on it and I can pull the kill out of a recording.” Marcus replied, and Ylenka nodded with a sigh of relief. With the inherent gameplay of killing players at a distance, proof of kills added a layer of prestige to the kill, like functional trophies.

“Be advised. The QRF has pulled out of the attack. They realize the feint early and have re-tasked their assets to our location.” Razer barked to everyone as he received chatter in their clan frequency.

“Confirmed they’re here. CROWS JLTV and a humvee. Two hundred meters out.” Horn reported through the radio.

“Keep them busy. But prioritize survival. Make sure your egress is clear.” Ylenka ordered. Their grace period had run out, prompting everyone to haul ass.

“Roger that. Engaging.” Horn replied, followed by the sounds of distant gunfire. Thuds of heavier calibers ripping through the buildings came as a response, followed by an explosion.

“Confirmed RPG impact on the humvee. No visible damage but they’re slowing down.” Came the report through the radio.

With nothing else to do, Marcus nodded and checked his gear. He reloaded his rifle and turned to the rest. “Let’s get to hauling ass then.” Everyone nodded, and they all filed down to the lower levels in a stack.

“Movement south of the building!” one of Ylenka’s boys reported through the radio. “Down the south side, at least a five-man team. They’re moving up steadily. By their uniforms, looks like SRT.”

“Fuck.” Marcus muttered. “No plan survives contact with the enemy.”