His eyes slowly focused. Charlie was sitting in an easy chair within his tiny living room. The television was on, and a news reporter was blathering about labor riots. Gingerly he removed the virtual dive helmet and set it on the coffee table. A gray house cat meowed at him and wandered into the kitchen. Charlie stood stretching, then went into the bathroom to do his business, and shower. While the hot water ran over him, he had time to think. Time enough to consider the game he'd just come out of. He would never have thought shooting a gun would be so exciting. The feel of it in his hands, the sound of the explosions, and the recoil. It was like magic. The practice had been almost cathartic. Charlie was glad his roommate had sold the helmet to him, and he understood why the man had spent so much time locked in his room. He'd shared the two bedroom apartment with a college drop out for three years. Suddenly the man had sold most of his things and moved to the Caribbean Islands. All Alex would say was that he planned to chase after ghosts. After the quick shower he dressed in new boxers and pants.The cat was still in the kitchen when he entered. It lay lazily on the counter licking itself. As he neared Fizzgig stopped cleaning long enough to meow at him again.

"You probably need food," he said glancing toward the cat bowl. Yep, it was empty so he poured some dry mix. Immediately Fizzgig leaped to the tile floor and started to eat.

"Sorry about that," He muttered putting the cat food away. Charlie opened the fridge and inspected his options. There was a three day old pizza that hadn't tasted right the first time, a couple of yogurt cups getting close to their expiration date, two half empty jars of pickles, and some very brown looking lettuce. It wasn't like he didn't have money. After all he managed to keep the apartment by himself. He just didn't like cooking or grocery shopping. His options didn't look very appealing so he chose the least terrible. Grabbing the yogurt he opened one and sniffed. It smelled OK, so he fetched a spoon and sat down in the living room.

The news was still on. A high school was in the picture, students jubilantly fleeing their studies for more interesting activities. The reporter and camera man moved forward.

"What do you think of the invasion of virtual online games?" The man asked a couple of teenage girls. In the background several buses were pulling away from the curb.

"Like eww, why can't dive junkies just enjoy life like normal people." She said in a California girl accent.

"I know right, it's just so really ugly nerds can get off like perverts." Her friend added. Ouch, Charlie almost winced. Well, didn't that strike a little close to home? He suspected the insipid whore would be pumping out babies before she got her diploma, so she could screw herself.

"What about the people that have anxiety disorders or medical conditions?" The reporter asked goading the girls.

"Umm… like so what. It's like up to them if they want to live in their own heads. Good riddance." The first girl replied and the camera panned away.

"You heard it directly from the mouth of our youths. America isn't buying the virtual hype." The reporter said as the screen changed. Those two girls had been stupid little twits but they hadn't been wrong. Having a virtual machine in the US was looked down upon. Like being gay in the 80's or 90’s. It was whispered about with sneers and side-long glances. The name, ‘Dive Junkies’ had quickly been adopted. Alex had been a shut in for two years, and barely left his room to eat and shower. Somehow he'd always managed to pay his share of the rent though, which made Charlie happy.

The news report went on to describe the skyrocketing attention foreign nations were giving to Virtual Technology. The first game to become ultra popular had been Nigmus Online. Even after four years the MMO boasted ten million players. From what he understood most games were now based on the engine Nigmus used, which included Gun Meister Online.

A meow caught his attention. Fizzgig was looking up at him with big yellow eyes. He meowed again before jumping up into Charlie's lap. For a few seconds Charlie absently scratched the cat behind the ears.

"TV off," He said as a set of long commercials started. The eighty-inch plasma screen died with a little blip sound. Reaching over he picked up the virtual helmet again and put it on. The padded device fit snuggly over his head. He pushed a lock of hair away from his eyes before settling back. Reaching up Charlie touched the activation button and waited while the helmet started. There was a slight humming noise as it scanned his brain. Then the world faded away.

A blond goddess was curled in his lap purring. Her chest pressed against his as she bit at his neck. Fingernails were clawing gently at his stomach. His body had relaxed when he logged out, and he sat up from the awkward slouch. She looked up scanning his face with those sky blue eyes.

"You were gone for a while," She accused removing her hand from under his tunic.

"I decided to shower and eat some lunch while I was offline."

"What would you like to do now?" She asked batting her long lashes at him. "We could look for a place," the girl offered rather quickly.

"Let's play the game."

"That works too," she admitted sliding from his lap. Her body swiveled to face him making her breasts jiggle again.

"You mentioned a holster and ammo," he said standing awkwardly. As casually as he could Charlie adjusted the bulge within his pants. They walked back through the store to the front.

"What kind of holster do you like?" She asked.

"I have no idea. I've never owned a gun," he said and she touched her chin.

"As a full-sized frame I'd suggest hip or leg carry. Really though you may just have to experiment," she offered turning away.

After searching through the hundreds of choices he found a leg holster he was satisfied with. Two straps buckled around his upper thigh, and a kydex lock secured the gun so it didn't rattle. Admittedly he was more impressed by how tactical it looked. Ammo they found near the entrance, and the person behind the counter glanced up from a tablet as he approached.

"Can I help you?" The clerk asked.

"I need point four five caliber ammunition," Charlie said proud he'd remembered the bullet type. His ego though took a dive as the clerk started to laugh. The man waved a hand apologetically.

"You are new, but you can just say Forty-Five ACP." The clerk said.

Charlie was left feeling a bit embarrassed. "You'll just hand me ammo? People walk around with loaded guns?" He asked incredulously.

"If you'll pardon my French miss, guns aren't worth a damn without bullets." The clerk replied dipping his head towards his blond companion. She shrugged in response but said nothing. "To answer your question yes, people do walk around with loaded guns." The clerk replied turning. On his hip was a holstered pistol of his own. Charlie was surprised by the sight.

"Player?" He asked.

"Yep, I get paid to man the counter just like in real life. They tried an NPC but people kept getting confused and buying the wrong caliber." The man said proudly.

"What prevents someone from killing another player in town?" Charlie asked making the clerk laugh again.

"Oh god, I love newbies. Nothing prevents you from blowing someone's brains out. Two reasons it doesn't happen often. Everyone else has a gun too. Pull it out and most people will draw on you out of habit. If you do manage to kill someone they'll instantly respawn. You, however, will earn an immediate twenty-four-hour ban. If you don't learn your lesson it's seven days. If for some inexplicable reason you feel the need to do it a third time, the ban is permanent. They'll lock the account and blacklist the dive helmet or the pod you’re logged in with." The shop clerk said while reorganizing the other boxes of ammo. Charlie resolved to keep his pistol holstered.

"Thanks for the help," Charlie said paying for the holster and ammo at the same time. The holster cost him thirty-five dollars and the ammo ten bucks.

"You'll need to find a corner to load your girl up." The clerk said winking and pointing to a quiet little spot next to the entrance. Charlie thanked the man a second time and left the store. Just outside he found the bench and sat down. His weapon changed, vanishing from her human form to lay on his lap.

"After you put the magazine in charge the gun and put the safety on. Then you can holster me." She offered and he followed her instruction. He had a bunch of ammo left so he stuck the box into his tunic pocket.

"Where do I go next?" He asked sliding from the bench.

"Go outside, take a left, and follow the main road to the competition center. It's in the middle of the city, you can't miss it." She replied. Charlie walked up the street following other players. Many had multiple guns. A few paces ahead a good looking woman strolled lazily. A pink heavily modified AK-47 was slung over her with little adorable cell-phone dolls hanging from the rifle sling. A candy colored pistol sat in a holster at her waist. Next to her, another man walked with his arms wrapped around two beautiful women. Both were scantily clad in thong bikini’s. One said something to the camo-covered male and he laughed squeezing her waist.

It surprised him how large the city was, especially for a simple combat shooter. It felt a bit like San Francisco. The sun was bright on his skin and the wind off the bay was pleasantly swift. This wasn't what he'd expected. The name ‘Gun Meister' had made him think of dark alleys with oil and blood flowing in the gutters. Instead he was confronted with a modern paradise. It took about ten minutes of walking, but the Competition building came into view. It was oval shaped like a stadium and festooned with streamers all over. Advertisements for real-life and in-game products liberally dotted the structure. He followed several players as they made for the main entrance.

Just inside was a huge gaming club. Hundreds of people milled about watching the battles or talking shop. A single large screen dominated the area above a reception desk. This showed a fight currently going on. There was a smoke grenade spewing its contents into a trash filled alley. Bullets were flying back and forth between several people. A man slid through the smoke with an SMG spraying rounds. He managed to kill one person before getting shot himself. It was so cool, so very bad ass.

"First day?" A girl asked and Charlie looked down. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at the screen. She was slightly built with pink hair, pink lipstick, and a pink top.

"Umm, yeah."

"That's great!" The girl said in a bubbly voice. "Would you like the run down?" She asked and he nodded. "Put your palm on the console." The receptionist said pointing to his left. A screen rested there waiting for input, and he pressed his hand to the screen face. It quickly read his ID and displayed his statistics.

_____________

Player ID - NA1339872

Registered Competition Name - None

Clan - None

Hours played - 1

Wins - 0

Losses - 0

Kills - 0

Deaths - 0

K/D Ratio - 0

Battle Rank - Bronze One

Player Score - 1000

Credits - 930

_____________

Next to this was a mugshot of his face, and Charlie was glad he'd made his character look like himself. The bubbly receptionist leaned over the counter. "Do you see these two lines?" She asked pointing to his battle rank and his player score. She traced a finger along the text as she said, "Everyone starts in the bronze rank. There are five levels to this class before you become silver. They begin with Bronze One then Two, Three, Four, and Master."

"Am I going to get destroyed my first game?" Charlie asked.

"Don't worry. The system will only pit people near the same rank together. Bronze players are limited to pistols only. Think of it like a warming up period. You get used to the game without the complexity of all the weapons." The girl said pulling out a sheet, which was a list of ranks by metal type.

Bronze - New to the game. Only one pistol allowed with limited upgrades.

Silver - Earn one new contract. Can now use primary weapons and armor.

Gold - Third contract. May now buy grenades, explosives, and high tier items.

Platinum - Fourth contract.

Diamond - Six contracts.

Tungsten - Ten contracts.

"Ten contracts!" Charlie thought to himself. That was a lot of guns to keep registered.

"To rank up you generally just play the game. I should warn you that you can only play two registered competition matches each day. The developers want people to take their score seriously. Of course you can play as many casual games as you like. It's a good way to make money and gain skill at the same time. Kills and deaths aren't held against your player statistics." She said before pausing to see if he had any questions.

"How long does it take to rank up if you can only play twice a day?" He asked looking over the sheet. Again he saw how many contracts a Tungsten ranked player could have. For a few seconds all he could imagine was a bed full of women.

"Most players rank up in a week. Ten to twenty games is normal. I've seen a skilled player rank up in two days though. Wins and losses mainly determine your battle rank. Player score is a measure of your combat effectiveness. Think of it as a chess rank. Every time you kill an enemy you gain some of their points. You gain more if that player has a higher score. When you're killed some of your points go to the other player. Player score will add weight for the system to place you in the correct rank." The girl informed him. Charlie took in a long breath to focus. This was a lot to take in at once. She continued after a few seconds. "It’s called BR for battle rank and P-Score respectively. Other things like that you'll pick up as you play. For now, why don't we sign you up for a game?" She asked gesturing towards the console again. The girl leaned over and tapped a few menu items. Quick Death-Match and Quick Team-Battle appeared on the screen. There were more options below for custom competition games.

"Which should I pick?"

"Team battles are easier to win but a death match is more straightforward. Just kill everyone you see." She said in a cotton candy sweet voice. He selected ‘Quick Death-Match’ making the box flash several times.

‘Match registered enter game lounge 46,' appeared on the screen. As the words vanished the girl clapped enthusiastically.

"Head to the elevator and good luck," she said pointing to the left. A set of ten tubes were set up in a ring, and people were getting in and out in waves. The first elevator door opened and several people got out. Quickly he stepped into the tube. Instead of buttons there was a flat screen. Once again he put his hand on the console. The doors closed and it started down. The elevator opened on a private lounge with several couches and viewing screens along with several people already waiting.

"Please exit and wait while the other participants gather," A chibi robotic voice said and he left the elevator. He'd barely made it ten steps into the room before a chime sounded several times. His vision began to darken then go black. Words appeared floating before his face.

[Match Starting]

Someone had taken World War III and dropped it on a quiet Minnesota town. A red school bus was partially covered in a collapsed building. Brightly colored streamers were strung across the street as if everything had gone to shit right before a parade. A thick red line was bisecting an old two-door Datsun. Approaching the line he found he couldn't move past it. An invisible wall prevented him from walking out of the area. He stroked a hand across the red and his fingertips went completely numb. Charlie flexed his hand in an attempt to regain the feeling back into his fingers.

Charlie was alone. He hadn't met anyone, yet his heart rate was starting to go up. The hairs on Charlie's neck stood up on end and his stomach did little flips. Thumbing the button on his leg holster he drew the pistol. The metal was cold against his skin but the weight was reassuring.

"What do I do?" He asked nervously.

"I can't tell you that. In this form, I have no eyes to see, nor ears to hear. You are the Gun Meister, I am the tool." His weapon said into his mind. She spoke with an easy tone but Charlie felt the reprimand none-the-less. "Well, you probably should take my safety off," she added after a few seconds. Charlie nervously thumbed the lever off the slide. He took a breath, then another as his heart continued to thump away. He needed to get his act together. At first, he crouched next to the rusty Datsun waiting in silence, and listened to the sound of the streamers flapping in the wind. The buildings nearby were filled with bullet holes. A restaurant had been gutted by an explosion spreading glass across the street. The red line inched across the car. It wasn't noticeable at first but the boundary was slowly shrinking, and soon he'd be forced to move. He decided the bus was a better choice and he climbed up on the rubble. It shifted under his weight making something inside the vehicle crash.

"Shit!" he cried rolling down the pile. The top of the bus caved in making a huge dust cloud. He stood from the rubble and started walking away. Street stores dominated this side of the road, and businesses had put out aging displays for the parade. Windows were filled with empty and sagging balloons. He tried darting to one of the doorways but it was locked. Charlie continued from store to store before he saw the perfect place. A narrow alleyway led between two buildings, and he sprinted across the street.

A man was there wearing the same gray tunic and trousers as him. He had brown hair and an athletic build. The other player was maybe ten meters down the alley and he did something unexpected. He started screaming—yelling at the top of his lungs—as he charged at Charlie. A bullet whizzed past his head. In response, Charlie lifted his pistol and pulled the trigger as fast as he could. Again and again the gun barked. In the narrow alley the sound was deafening, like someone was boxing his ears with each pull of the trigger. A bullet missed his arm by barely an inch, then another hit the dumpster he stood next to.

It was pure luck that won the battle. His last bullet by chance struck the other man in the head. Not between the eyes but right on the nose, so that blood and brains sprayed out the back of his head. A second later the man crumpled to the ground. Charlie kept pulling the trigger even though the slide was locked back. For almost a minute he stood there looking at the body as adrenaline and pure terror filled his veins.

"Calm down, Charlie. The game will eject you if your heart rate doesn't drop." His gun said sharply into his ear. He sagged to his knees and fell back onto his ass. The gun was shaking in his trembling hands. He breathed in the stink of blood, forcing his eyes closed. Then turned away from the body.

"I thought you said you couldn't see," Charlie said at last.

"My sense of touch is heightened. I can feel your pulse pounding and hear your words via the grip." She said to him. He tried to relax, tried to think of anything. He needed a distraction, anything to take his mind off the bloody corpse before him. A name for his weapon suddenly struck him. Not a very original one but it was better than nothing.

"Elva," He said still clutching the pistol.

"What?"

"Your name will be Elva," He replied feeling his pulse slowly calm.

"I like it," she said after a few seconds. He smiled before finally noticing the pistol was empty. Clumsily he shifted the gun to drop the magazine out. He felt so uncoordinated as he fumbled in his tunic pocket. The box of bullets fell out spilling across the ground. Holstering the gun he started putting the large rounds into the magazine. After this, he loaded the firearm by grabbing the top of the pistol and pulling back. As he released the slide it moved forward chambering a round. Why hadn't he bought some extra magazines? What a bone-headed thing to forget. That was something he needed to look into. The white box of ammo was broken open, bullets carelessly spilled out. Charlie tried to put as many of the dropped bullets back into his pocket. If he was lucky he might need them later.

He was about to stand when Elva spoke, "Are you OK?"

Charlie paused looking back at the body. He hadn't expected such a visceral response to the fight. Maybe that was why the other man had started yelling. The war-cry had forced him forward. "He's dead," Charlie said eying the gory scene. It was a mature war game after all, so of course, there would be bodies and gore. The acrid metallic tang of blood mixed with the scent of gunpowder. Bullet casings sparkled like golden nuggets in the dirty alley.

"The person will respawn in the competition lobby," Elva reminded him.

"How many people are left?"

"I don't know exactly. There are ten players in each competition match. If you killed one that leaves eight opponents left if the others are all still alive." Elva said and Charlie tried to remember if he heard any gunshots. The fight itself was a blur in his memory. He didn't recall hearing any at the beginning of the match. At the mouth of the alley, he stopped and looked both ways. The red bus was halfway down the street. The shops remained as before, ready to open for the day. From above an alarm sounded like a clipped air siren starting and stopping. It cut off after a few seconds.

"What was that buzzer?" Charlie asked.

"Half of the time remains. Each match at bronze level is twenty minutes long. New players often ‘camp' until fewer enemies remain. As the time runs out they will become more aggressive." Elva informed him. Her words heralded a short series of pops in the distance. It was followed by a set of loud booms. The combat sounded like it was a few blocks away.

"Twenty minutes doesn't seem like a lot of time," he whispered quietly.

"At silver level it goes up to forty minutes. Gold matches can last an hour, at platinum it’s two. Diamond is four and tungsten are eight hours." Elva whispered back into his ear.

"Is that why there are only two games a day?" Charlie asked. His mind boggled at the time investment. A top ranked player might spend sixteen hours in combat. He honestly couldn't imagine doing that. He was still coming down from his battle cocktail so he crouched in the eave of a bookstore.

"Yes."

The red line was over the bus and rubble. It was creeping visibly closer forcing him down the street. More gunshots rang out followed by a long exchange. Charlie flinched back against the doorway, because someone was nearby. After twenty seconds a massive boom sounded. It was like a cannon compared to the firecrackers from before.

Less than a minute later he saw a new player. It was a tiny girl with long teal colored hair and Charlie recognized her from before. She'd been the loli with no chest. Now she was dressed in a black tank top and desert-camo shorts. She walked along the middle of the road slowly scanning the shops. Charlie tightened his grip on the pistol. If this were real life it would be slick with his sweat. He kept telling himself he could do this. The girl was just strolling along, not even running. She was maybe thirty meters away and coming closer. About a block away several pistols exchanged fire, and the girl stopped to turn in that direction. This was his chance. Charlie rolled out of the doorway and came up crouched. The small sights entered his field of view and he started shooting. The roar deafened him but he fired again anyway. As he did the girl fell onto her face. It was over in seconds and his slide locked back. After a long pause the short girl stood up and fear tickled his heart. She was completely unhurt as she drew her pistol. He threw himself back into the doorway of the store.

"Fuck," he cursed loudly. Elva said nothing to this as he ejected the magazine. He fumbled even more clumsily to get the loose ammo out of his pocket, and his fingers struggled to put the rounds into the box. A girl came around the corner with the biggest revolver he ever saw. It was chrome silver with a bore so huge he could see the bullet.

He stared at the rifled grooves before the girl spoke, "You should take the time to aim."

"I surrender…" he said weakly lifting his hands up. The loose bullets and magazine rolled off his lap to the ground. The girl laughed a childishly high giggle.

"You're silly," she said pulling the trigger. For a second he'd considered lunging the five feet and grabbing the gun. Instead, something slammed into his chest. He was thrown backward through the glass door of the shop. It was like someone had slugged him right on the breastbone. He lay there for a few seconds struggling to breathe before everything went black. The darkness lasted only a second or two then a door slid open before him. The sound of people talking reached his ears.

"That girl is a fucking smurf," A male voice complained.

"I know right! Why the hell do people do that?" Someone else groused. Charlie stepped out into a small private lounge. Couches and chairs circled a set of television screens. The largest of which displayed a quiet Minnesota town. The teal haired girl was loading a round into her magnum revolver.

"What's going on?" He asked and four men turned to look at him.

"Newb," a gray-clad man sneered.

"This is the match lobby. We're stuck here until the game ends." A brown haired man said. It was the person he'd killed in the alley. The man didn't seem angry at all, accepting his death with aplomb.

"That doesn't sound fair," Charlie said thinking about the Diamond players. He supposed they could just log out to play something else while they waited.

"It's so losers can't kibitz the game and give information away. People started bringing virtual cell phones into the match to help friends when they died." The first said in that sneering tone like it would be obvious to anyone. A timer above the middle screen continued to tick down. It rolled past six minutes on its march to zero.

After his death, it didn't take long. Charlie watched the little girl kill everyone left. She did the same thing as before. Strolling along the street until something happened. Then she'd throw herself to the ground and get behind cover. After the other person ran out of ammo she'd move in for the kill. The red border forced everyone together into a single shop. She cleaned up then, taking aim at each person as they ran inside. More people quickly filled the lounge. As the match ended the elevator doors opened with a ding. Everyone moved to get inside.

"At least she didn't clean sweep," the complaining man said kicking a side panel. Still, the girl did kill most of them. The elevator rose upward stopping at the main lounge. Music and conversation filled the air and the nine combatants quickly went their own ways. Charlie wasn't sure what to do next. He supposed he could play another match but his nerves said otherwise, so he started towards the exit.

"Congratulations!!!" A bubbly voice said from behind him. Charlie turned to see the receptionist exploding a party popper over his head. Sparkles and red confetti rained down.

"I died," he said in annoyance.

"You got a kill, that's quite impressive. It's very hard to win death matches." She said in her chipper voice.

"If it's so hard why do people do it?" He asked and the girl giggled.

"Credits of course. You get much more money." She said beckoning him over to the booth. There she pulled out a small pamphlet.

[Competition money and you]

Winning a Team Match = 2000c

Winning a Death Match = 10,000c

Killing an enemy = 100 x Battle Rank x Weapon Multiplier.

(Bronze 1, Silver 2, Gold 4, Platinum 6, Diamond 10, Tungsten 20)

(Explosives 1, Rifles 1, SMG's 1.25, Pistols 2, Melee 10)

Team Killing = Costs 1000c credits and reduces your player score by ten points.

Casual Match Kills = 100 x Weapon Multiplier (Battle Rank is not factored)

"In a Team match you have an even chance of winning. If you die your team can still pull through. In a death match it's entirely up to you. There are more enemies as well which means more money." She said clapping her hands.

"For example let's take your kill. You get two hundred credits for killing that bronze player. A silver player will reward you four hundred for a pistol kill. If you ever happen to knife a Diamond player it is worth ten thousand credits." She said gesturing excitedly to the console. Charlie put his palm on the display. His K/D ratio had risen to 1.0, and he now had 1130 credits. The only negative was the fact he had one loss.

"Don't worry about your stats, just have fun." The girl said seeing his expression.

"What's a smurf?" He asked remembering something he'd heard earlier.

"It is an experienced player in a lower ranked game. The girl who killed you was probably a gold or platinum player wishing to start over. Sometimes they do that to change their appearance or stat distribution." The receptionist said and clapped him on the shoulder. "I hope you enjoy the game," She said excitedly and he nodded his thanks. The girl had gone out of her way to welcome him, but he was done for the day. Charlie liked the game for certain. He just needed some time to cool down.