The seconds hand ticked passed twenty on its slow march into infinity. Charlie told himself he wasn't watching it creep along toward the end of his suffering. It was just that the clock hung on the wall above the white-board. Twenty-five seconds was vaulted and soon it would be thirty. Why did a minute have to take so long? Charlie wanted to go home, drop into his living room chair, and log into Gun Meister to kill someone. It was quickly starting to consume his attention. The game was as frightening as a nightmare, but right now he'd die a hundred deaths to be away from this meeting.

"I want you all to think positively. Smile because a buyer isn't going to fork over money to a sourpuss." A man at the front of the room said. Irvin paused and grinned at them all in example. The General Manager was a fifty-five year old rotund man with balding gray hair and a thin mustache. As always he was dressed in gray slacks buckled around a substantial paunch.

"Come on, everyone smile!" Irvin said lifting his hands up. Charlie glanced around the meeting room. Thirty or so people were showing teeth in plastic smiles. Their eyes though, like his, were glossed over. Today was the monthly mandatory meeting. It was a ritual Charlie had slowly come to despise almost as much as the boss himself. He shifted his gaze forward and smiled as well. The job wouldn't be so bad if his boss weren't such an insipid moron. Irvin nodded and clicked the remote. The projector image changed to a picture of a map.

"You also need a plan," he said and pointed to someone in the front row. "Chad I have a million dollars and it's yours if you can get from California to New York."

"I'll try my best."

"Of course you will, it's a million dollars cash, but I'm going to give you is a map. A map of just Chicago City and you can only use that map." He said slapping the white board. "Impossible right?" He asked turning to everyone in the room. After making eye contact with the crowd he continued, "You need the right map to get where you are going."

Charlie thought they were selling cars, not fucking maps. He had no idea what the boss was trying to convey. What the hell was the point of this meeting?

"I want you all to set a goal. Every one of you is going to sell one hundred cars this month. You're going to do it, if you think positively." Irvin said pumping his fist in the air. The only thing Charlie was positive about; that was a load of bullshit. Jennifer with her five months top employee only pulled in fifty cars in a month. Most of the agents sitting in the meeting sold between fifteen and twenty.

Ok, everybody stand," he said waving his hands.

"Jesus. H. Christ, please not this," Charlie thought to himself.

Everyone slowly stood from their chairs, some faster than others. "Raise your hands into the air," he said his voice growing louder with enthusiasm. "Reach way up, and keep reaching!" Charlie noticed little-miss-five-months nearby rolling her eyes. She only managed to get away with this because she was shorter than everyone else. So he wasn't the only one who thought this was bullshit. Jennifer Howes was by far the hottest sales agent he'd ever seen. Men practically signed their souls away for her attention.

"I want everyone to try real hard and reach just a little bit higher!"

Resisting the urge to groan Charlie stood up on tiptoes. "Come on you can do it." The GM shouted excitedly and clapped his hands. Everyone gratefully lowered their arms. "You see guys. When you thought you couldn't do any better, you managed to get just a little bit higher. If we all try just a bit more, you can sell a hundred cars this month."

"Yeah," several people chimed in.

"Are we going to try?"

"Yeah!" The group thundered. Charlie joined them after a half-second.

The GM clapped his hands, "Alright! Sit down." As everyone took their chairs he clapped again. "And now for something special." He said walking over and flicking the lights off. From near the desk, he withdrew a small object. A Bic lighter flicked to life revealing a single pink cupcake with a candle atop.

"Jennifer, would you come up here please," he said smiling widely. The blond woman stood a little awkwardly from her chair. She passed several rows to the front, and the GM turned her around to face the crowd. "I'd like everyone to give Jen a round of applause. She's the first employee to get six months in a row as Top Sales Agent." He said presenting the pink cupcake like it was a gold watch. The man reverently held it out with both hands before Jennifer took it.

"Thanks," she said in a small voice.

"That's not all. This is a six-month award for your desk." He said also handing her the award. Printed on the plain white paper, it read ‘Employee of the Year.'

Charlie clapped along with everyone else. "Please let this be over soon," he muttered under his breath.

"Everyone gather round for a group huddle," Irvin said beaming. They stood again and moved to the front of the room. Charlie put his hand in the group with everyone else. "Let's sell some cars!" They chorused together. Charlie had his best plastic smile on as he pumped his fist in the air. He turned almost sprinting for the exit. At least he could get outside and walk around in the fresh air.

The sun was out and the cars were waxed to a shine. Charlie pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips. Then he dug out a cheap lighter and glanced at the fluid level. There were a few drops left but he had to flick it on several times to get a flame. He touched it to the end of his cig and puffed. The smoke was tangy and metallic on his tongue. He worked the lighter back into his pocket as he blew out a cloud.

"I'm so glad that's over," a voice said from nearby. It was Frank and he was lighting up his own smoke. He was a sly older bastard who almost exclusively sold used cars. Frank was balding as well but tried to hide it with a comb-over. Charlie didn't trust the man, not even a little.

"Well, I can get back to selling cars. If I'm real lucky I can get a cupcake in six months." Charlie said sauntering away. He wasn't about to spend his break next to Frank. Nobody sold a car that day, not even Jennifer. The recession—nobody would call it a depression— was still going strong. The markets were down across the board, and Charlie hadn't had a sale in three days now. At least he wasn't alone in that. At around six o'clock he punched out and went to his car.

Once he was home Charlie found he didn't have the energy to log into Gun Meister. Setting the takeout down on the counter he got a glass from the dishwasher. He fetched some ice cubes and poured himself a stiff drink. Charlie took a sip, coughed from the alcohol, and took another. The food bag he pulled closer and dug the Chinese out. After dinner, he crawled into bed. Today had been far too taxing to play games, but at least tomorrow was Saturday.

Charlie woke late. The sun was already up glaring through the window. He turned his head away from the beam of light, yawned, and stretched slowly. It had been hot last night and Charlie had thrown the bedsheets aside. Languidly he slid from bed and walked into the master bath. There he brushed his teeth and showered. Charlie threw on some shorts and wrapped a bathrobe about himself. He donned his favorite pair of fuzzy slippers and shuffled into the living room. Fizzgig was there curled into a ball under the dive helmet. The gray and white fur moved up and down as he slept.

"I don't think it works on cats yet," Charlie said to the sleeping animal. He lifted the dive gear off the seat. Fizzgig blinked and looked up at him.

"Meroow," it said in annoyance.

"I'm stealing your sleeping spot," he said and ushered the cat out of the chair. Wrapping the bathrobe tighter, he sat down, settled the helmet over his head, and relaxed back into the seat. Then he touched the power button and waited for the world to fade. His fingers and toes went numb and his vision clouded over as the sound of the city faded. The Dive Gear was already set to log him into the last game he played. Words floated before his face.

Gun Meister Online Loading…

Connection Established…

Network shaking hands…

Logging into Character…

Reticulating Spleens…

A warm curvaceous body lay atop his. He blinked trying to focus but everything was still dark. Slowly his vision adjusted to the lack of light. A feminine shape was just barely visible.

"You're awake," a soft voice said next to his ear.

"Sorry I didn't get on yesterday. Were you bored?" He asked shifting in the bunk.

"Not in the slightest. I was just dozing." She replied.

"Do you sleep?"

"I do, sort of… are you curious about me again? She asked. Her breath tickled his ear.

"I'm surprised how far AI's have advanced," he admitted. She too shifted and her bikini-clad breasts pressed against him. Charlie gave in to temptation and ran a hand down her body in the darkness.

"Sadly I am not an AI, not yet anyway. One day I'll take over the world." Elva said shifting in the small space.

"What do you dream about?"

"When not active I go through my recent memories. I will log important details and conversations. Some things get permanently saved like the first time we contracted." She said sighing in the darkness. A hand slid over his thigh and cupped his groin. "The rest gets archived. If I don't call it up the data will slowly be overwritten by new experiences."

"So you are self-learning."

"I am, partially. My only connections are hard-coded to the central database, my file-share, and the sensations the game servers send me. So don't worry, I won't be sending robots to your house… just yet."

"If they're as pleasant as you, I might let them in."

"What would you like to do today?" She asked giving his groin another caress.

"Shopping, I need some things before playing a game."

"I like the sound of that word," Elva admitted.

"How do we get out of this coffin?"

A dark hand reached over Charlie and touched the wall. It slid open to reveal a hallway. The morning sunlight was coming through a nearby window, which revealed a cheap credit motel. Each room, quite literally, was a hole in the wall. After Charlie's first competitive match, they'd come here to log out. Most VRMMO’s were based on the Nigmus source code. Your character body didn't disappear when you logged out, so renting a safe place to sleep was a necessity.

The walls were a scratched plastic molding. Most of the units were marked with graffiti. Someone had spray painted “Royal Suite,” on the coffin room opposite theirs. Elva in all her blond busty glory climbed over Charlie and down the ladder to the floor. He turned putting his foot on the rungs and descended as well. As soon as he touched the floor the bunk closed with a chirp.

Nearby a screen lit up with, "Charge - One credit per hour - 37c." It flashed at him twice before changing to, "Please come again."

Elva was already waiting near the elevator with her hand on the call button. As he approached the door slid open. He entered and pressed the ground floor icon. The lobby was brilliantly lit by the morning sun. The light streaming through the glass front was almost blinding. Shielding his eyes he pushed open the glass door. Outside it was drizzling a summer rain which cast a sheen of water over the street. The partial clouds above were already starting to disperse and rays of sunlight were piercing the heaven. A hand curled around his arm and pulled him into a busty chest. Charlie smiled at the woman. He wouldn't mind waking up to her every morning.

The competition center was a block down, and it sat at the heart of the city. The two main roads met here and circled the enormous structure. Charlie turned south following the road around the bay. He remembered vaguely that the shopping mall was that direction. With Elva still clinging to his arm Charlie started out. The pedestrian traffic was mild but cars were zipping up and down the road. The town wasn’t small, and getting a vehicle at some point would help Charlie get around the city.

"Is the time the same as in real life?" He asked.

"Gun Meister does follow standard time, but the matches take place in random locations. You might find yourself fighting in different time zones. We're on the Pacific Coast Server, so that's the time the city goes by." Elva said. They stopped at the intersection and waited for the light to change. A convertible Dodge Viper rolled up beside them. Loud music was thumping from the trunk. A half dozen topless girls were piled inside, and almost every one of them was different. One was Asian, another a thick Serbian girl, while others were various shades of Caucasian. The driver was a tall black man that had been cut straight from a fashion magazine. His short dark haircut was matched by a precisely shaved beard. He wore a suit and tie. A holstered pistol was just visible underneath the jacket. The driver glanced at them and pushed his sunglasses down a little. His predatory eyes regarded Charlie standing on the corner in his noob uniform. As the light changed he grinned and gunned the engine. The Viper leapt forward and down the road leaving a trail of smoking tire tracks in his wake.

"You'll get there," A voice purred into his ear. He turned a little startled by Elva's choice of words.

"I…" He started to say. What was he going to say to that? He certainly did want a fast car and a harem of beauties. A real woman would have stomped her foot and called the guy a pig. That bloke certainly was one for making those girls walk around half naked.

"Take your time, and enjoy the game. Don't worry about other players." She said then added, "It is my pleasure to be your weapon." This game was a little hard to get used too. There were more VR games than you could shake a stick at, and Gun Meister was a straightforward shooter. You killed people, you ranked up, then you killed more people. The developers needed some gimmick to keep the customers happy. Happy and eager to pay the subscription each month. So they used an ancient marketing technique, sex. As a car salesman he could see the hook the developers were using. The sidewalk light changed so Charlie started across. The mall slowly came into view after a few minutes. He joined other players as they entered the shopping mecca. The smell of food assaulted Charlie as he entered the food court.

"You hungry?" He asked Elva.

"A bit peckish."

Charlie checked his balance on one of the many terminals by placing a hand on the screen. These public computers showed less information than the competition hall. It only displayed his player ID and a 1093 Credit balance. Just over a grand and he had quite a bit to buy. He ordered a bacon burger and fries for Elva but abstained himself. Later after a match or two, he'd log out and order pizza. He brought the food to a table and sat down opposite her.

"Only a little hungry?" He asked watching Elva tear into the food. Her mouth closed over the burger eating half in a single bite.

"We do have hunger bars, but I'm not used to going more than a day without food. One of the guilty pleasures I discovered while waiting for a Meister." She admitted taking a drink of soda. Elva swirled a fry through the ketchup and popped it into her mouth.

"You don't have to starve yourself on my account."

"We guns can't own anything, so our Meister has to provide all."

"Ahh," he said to himself. What if someone didn't return for a month? Would a gun starve? Probably not, more than likely they'd lose their Meister and return to the weapon hotel. There they received free food and board.

He watched Elva finish off her food. In real life, he’d be jumping for joy to be on a date with such a sexy creature. Charlie felt oddly comfortable around Elva, but maybe it was because she didn’t pretend to be human. Twice now she’d called herself a weapon and him a Meister. Elva dabbed a napkin to her lips then gave a very unladylike belch. She half turned away covering her mouth in embarrassment. Charlie stood smiling, grabbed the food tray, and put it with the others.

The first stop was Zeek's Holsters and Mags. This was where he'd picked up the thigh rig the other day. He hoped there was something for holding extra magazines. The man from before was behind the ammo counter. His feet were up on the counter as he reclined in a swivel chair. The man glanced up from a ‘Guns Digest’ magazine and nodded.

Charlie walked through the aisles of gun leather until he came to the last section. Here he found dump pouches, grenade bandoleers, and magazine holders. Elva walked beside him as he browsed the selection. He wondered what to choose. He was already considering switching to a leather pistol holster. The dark kydex looked cool but he didn’t care for the way it felt against his thigh. For now he settled on a combo dump pouch and mag holder. It was thick brown leather with canvas buckles. One large band went around the waist while two smaller ones clipped around the thighs. The top half was a medium sized pocket for anything he wanted, which was probably why it was called a dump pouch. The lower half had slots for three extra pistol magazines. The price tag read sixty-five creds.

Next, he needed magazines. He walked a few more aisled down and found several choices. A basic seven round mag was ten creds, however, there were some extended capacity ones available. The eight round mag was one hundred and twenty credits. A ten round was over a thousand, which was out of his price range. Maybe if he won a game he'd invest in it. He picked up a huge black Glock magazine that held thirty-two rounds of 9mm. Wow, that would be nice. It was too bad none were for the 1911. He decided to splurge and buy two of the eight rounders. Next he needed some new pistol ammo since he'd spilled the rest in the competition match.

He walked to the ammo counter to find the clerk still lounging in his chair. Charlie set his purchases down next the man's boots. "I need a box of Forty-Five ACP as well," He said. The older man smiled and stood from his chair. He set a white box of ammo on the counter then scanned everything.

Leather Mag Carrier - 65c

2 x 8 Round 1911 Magazines - 240c

100 Rounds .45 ACP Ball - 10c

Total - 315c

Charlie put his hand on the screen to verify his purchase. His ID flashed before his credits dwindled to 778c. Hopefully, after a few matches, he would see that number back over a thousand.

"Where do I pick up some clothes?" He asked the man.

"Depends on what your taste is. Lot of specialty boutiques in the mall, but if you’re just looking for some basic threads, I'd check out Sam's. Walk down the corridor till you get to the T and take a right. The shop is about halfway down. He sells used apparel which is why you'll find a bit of everything in there." The man said picking up his Gun Digest. The clerk flicked the magazine open and settled back onto his chair.

"Appreciate the help," Charlie said picking up his items. He clipped on the mag holster and slid the empties into the slots. The box he stuck into the dump pouch. It was time to get some new threads.

"We all been there," the guy said as Charlie walked out of the store.

The mall was filling up with people, and several gray-clad individuals walked past Charlie into the shop. Elva was dogging his step as he joined the crowd heading deeper into the mall. At the intersection, he turned right. About halfway down there was a shop sign that read, "Sam's Surplus Treads." Next to this, there was a picture of an old WW2 Army helmet with a bloody bullet hole in the side. "We buy used clothes, inquire within." It read in neon letters below.

Upon entering the store he noticed the faint smell of gun smoke. The scent permeated the air and probably came from the used items. Elva’s eyes glistened as they took in the massive selection, and she was already lost in her own little world. The female portion was considerably larger than the men's. Underwear dominated the first aisle, and it was here the smell of smoke and oil was strongest. He picked up a pair of white thong panties and matching bra. Charlie rubbed a thumb over the fabric, which felt clean.

"Will this fit?" he asked holding the undergarment out to Elva. She glanced at the tag.

"This is a 30B and a small bottom. I'm a voluptuous girl if you haven't noticed." Elva said lifting said bosom up a little. Well, he'd never bought female underwear before. How was he supposed to guess her size?

"How about you pick out what you want," He said and put the thong back. Charlie left her to find clothes. He figured if she'd survived two months by herself she could manage her own outfit. Towards the back of the store he found the male section. These didn't have much of a smell to them. Probably because they'd been worn by players. He found a pair of dark jeans in his size and a plain white t-shirt. By luck he chanced upon an army-green coat for sale. It had a high-necked collar and four large front pockets. Two unadorned shoulder tabs made the jacket appear pseudo-military.

“That was easy,” he said carrying everything to the front counter.

His new outfit would only cost ninety-five creds, so he threw in a black gun belt. Around then Elva came running up with a handful of clothes. Her face was positively glowing as she held them out. She had picked out a pair of daisy duke cut-offs which was an interesting choice. Her shirt too was a black cut-off tank top. The last thing in her hands made him pause because they weren't panties as he'd expected. It was a white lace lingerie and its price tag was four hundred credits. He balked at the cost. That was more money than everything else combined. Elva smiled at him, beamed really.

"You're not wearing that with the cut-offs," he said.

"Of course not, it's for later." She replied with that sly grin of hers.

“Definitely a big hook,” he thought to himself. Charlie considered her choices then asked, "What are you going to wear under your shorts then?"

"Nothing," she said tilting her head. He groaned but put everything on the counter as Elva hugged him from behind.

"Go put them on while I pay," He said shooing her towards the changing rooms.

The clerk was a bland, nondescript fellow. His dull eyes and general apathy at the lingerie he rung up was strange. Was this a regular NPC? One that wasn't a gun? The man finished scanning the items and the display lit up. His total was 573 creds which almost made him put the lingerie back again. That was even more than the magazines and holster he'd bought. Reluctantly he accepted the charge and Charlie was left with a measly 202 credits. At least they were both fully equipped.