The mall corridor was packed to capacity as he left the store. Charlie was forced to shoulder his way into an unused bathroom to find a quiet place to sit down. Elva followed him into the restroom and immediately went to admire herself in the mirror. She posed arching her back and pursed her lips at her reflection. Charlie opened a stall door and went inside. He quickly changed out the noob uniform for his jeans, shirt, and jacket. After buckling on his belt on he tossed the slacks into the trash. Charlie unlocked the stall and came out. Elva was slowly turning around in circles admiring herself before the mirror.

"What are you doing?" He asked approaching.

"I'm making sure to record everything about the first outfit my Meister bought me."

Ahh geez, well, change forms. I need to reload your magazines." He said taking out the box of ammo. Elva began to glow. There was a flash and a 1911 was laying on the hand-washing counter. Charlie started by opening the ammo box and reloaded an eight round mag. He picked up Elva and pressed the magazine release. The empty mag slid out and he replaced it with the full one. After wracking the slide he paused. If the gun had just stripped the first round wasn't there room for another? He experimented by removing the mag and slipping another bullet on top. Then he loaded the gun again so there was 8 + 1 in the chamber. Charlie felt proud of himself for thinking of that, but little did he know this was standard practice.

He finished by loading the other two mags and sliding them into his thigh holster. More than half the ammo was left so he tucked the rest into the pouch. It had only taken twenty-four rounds to fill his load-out. At least he'd be able to play several matches without having to fetch more. He clipped Elva into the thigh holster then pushed from the restroom. Charlie had little money left. There was only two hundred creds on his account, but at least he was fully outfitted. He joined the crowd heading toward the food court. There he left the building and started towards the competition center. While he'd been shopping the morning clouds had burned off. Warm sunlight filled the heavens, and the pavement was already dry.

Outside the competition entrance several sound stages were set up. On one side women in thong bikini's were posing with machine guns. A girl with a short rainbow bob slid a box into an M60. She charged the heavy weapon and hefted it to her shoulder. At the end of the stage a target and backstop had been set up. The girl squeezed the trigger and sent a burst of fifty rounds into the silhouette. Most of the ogling men failed to notice the rounds hitting the target's center mass. The gun’s bucking made her enormous breasts dance in the tight swimwear. Another woman walked around the stage perimeter with a banner which read, "Girls Inc, Recruiting." Charlie spent a few minutes admiring the hardware on display, both metal and flesh.

A live band was playing on the opposite stage. The music was new age, which meant it was loud and disjointed. He preferred rhythm from when it wasn’t just synthetic noise, so Charlie quickly followed along as the crowd passed between the stages. Inside the entrance another banner reading, ‘Happy Memorial Day’ hung over the help desk. Surrounding the desk were hundreds of wooden ammo containers. ‘Free ammo with each match,’ another sign said above this.

“Shit,” Charlie thought. Charlie wished he'd known about the free ammo beforehand, and saved himself ten credits. The bubbly receptionist wasn't around today. Instead, a golden eyed man was manning the counter. A line of people wrapped around the help desk and into the lounge. Charlie moved past the free ammo into the competition lobby. Maybe later he would return to collect some. For now he wanted to run a few casual matches. He located an unused console and activated it by pressing his palm to it. His statistics came up which hadn't changed since his first battle. He navigated the menu options before he located the casual lobby list. He selected a pistol death match and a warning prompt came up. ‘Casual games may include players of different skill groups,’ it warned in yellow text.

"That was fine," he thought and hit accept. The higher skilled players would still be limited to a handgun.

"Please enter lobby - 245." It said on the screen. He closed the screen and made for the elevators. Several people got into one with him. Most simply swiped their hand over the control screen, which was enough to get the tube moving.

"Lobby - 199," It said opening. A bearded man carrying a sniper rifle walked into the small lounge. The doors closed again and continued down.

"Lobby - 210," The chibi robotic voice chirped. Another man strode out of the elevator before it descended.

"Lobby - 245," It said opening the doors. Charlie followed a woman wearing skin-tight black leather into the private lounge. She had snow white hair and was smoking a cigarette. Several high ranking players were impatiently waiting in the small room, and Charlie gulped feeling like he'd just jumped into a shark tank. There was enough tactical clothing worn by the assembled group to outfit a navy seal team. He tried to play it cool by moving to a nearby couch and sitting. The woman continued to smoke while leaning against the wall. The elevator door opened and the last person walked into the lounge. The world went dark as the final player joined them.

[Match Beginning]

Charlie found himself sitting on a transit bus. He had a perfect view of the street below as the bus hung precariously over the edge of the freeway. It was sunny outside, but still early morning which meant he was on the west coast somewhere. A gust of sea wind blew past making the bus rock. The vehicle swayed slowly, edging towards the precipice. He was sitting halfway down the aisle, so any wrong move might send the bus and himself to the highway below.

He didn't stand up entirely. Charlie lifted himself partially out of the seat. As he did the bus tipped forward rocking on the lip. He swung his foot out and grabbed a nearby metal rail. Metal shrieked as the bottom carriage slid across the guard rail. The whole bus was hanging at a twenty-degree angle over the highway. He started up the incline towards the emergency exit. Every time the wind picked up the metro inched a little further, and any second it would tip over the rail. As he reached the rear it became impossible to walk up the incline. He hung onto the hanging rails as he climbed up the last few seats. Only the guard rail hooked under the tires was keeping the bus from going over. He grasped the door handle and yanked down. As he pushed open the exit the bus went over the edge and Charlie jumped leaping for the road. He cleared the torn guard rail and rolled to a knee scraping stop. Below the transit bus slammed face first into the ground crumpling like a broken accordion.

As he was looking at the wreckage below a figured appeared from under the bridge. A male was hunched low to the ground and was scanning the bus wreckage. Charlie dropped to a knee next to the ruined guard rail. Unholstering Elva, he remembered to remove the safety, then he stood aiming down the sights at the man. The target was still peeking through a shattered window into the bus. The gun fired and Charlie was rewarded with a spray of red mist. The bullet struck the man in the neck and traveled down into his chest cavity. Blood squirted over the pavement as he crumpled.

"You should check your surroundings more carefully," a female said from behind him. He spun with the gun to see the white haired woman. A bullet slammed into his chest followed by a second and third. The sky filled his vision as he went over the edge to the street below. He hit the ground just as the darkness closed in.

A door opened revealing the private lounge. One thing was missing though. The man he'd killed was gone, which was odd. Maybe you didn't have to stick around for casual matches. Above the main screen, the timer showed that eighteen minutes remained. He'd only managed to last two minutes, but at least he'd killed someone. Charlie touched a nearby console and was pleased to see he'd earned two hundred credits. A door opened nearby and another player entered the lobby. The man wore a black balaclava over his head and a dark urban-camo vest. Charlie glanced up from the console watching as the soldier walked to the elevator. It opened at his approach and he slapped at the control screen. The door slid shut and the elevator ascended. Well, that answered the question of whether he could leave or not.

He wanted to laugh. The first game had been over too fast to get his heart rate up. Charlie stood and approached the exit. After a few seconds the elevator doors opened, and he returned to the lobby. People were mobbing the help desk for free ammo. Charlie though had only fired a single bullet. He decided to reload next to a nearby console. Elva's chamber was charged so all he had to do was slide in a fresh eight round magazine. Then he holstered the 1911 after making sure the safety was on. He ripped open the Velcro pouch on his thigh and removed the ammo box. With it he replaced the one spent bullet and slid the magazine into a spare slot. After finishing he replaced the ammo box in the pouch and stood. Then he accessed the console himself and started another casual pistol match.

"Please enter Lobby - 420," it said after flashing the skill group warning at him. With ten people in each game that meant at least four thousand people were playing right now. That too was just on the West Coast server. He whistled, impressed by the turnout because that number would likely increase after lunch. He entered the elevator and went down to the lounge. The match started almost immediately.

The darkness came and went leaving Charlie staring at a setting sun. Thank god he wasn't near a bus, but he was on a highway. Broken down cars littered the road like forgotten toys. Nearby a speed-limit sign read, ‘100' with a red circle. Judging by the dusk sky and the foreign traffic sign he was somewhere in Europe. Charlie crouched removing the pistol and glanced around. He'd been a fool to just start shooting at that guy. It had been rather stupid getting bloodthirsty for a kill.

The highway ran east to west towards the sun. On either side of the road was a large grass covered berm. Shuffling closer to a car he glanced through the window, but couldn't see any movement. Two shots rang out in the distance. He looked west but the sun was in his eyes and there were too many cars on the road. Silence followed the pistol reports and Charlie unconsciously hunkered down.

He waited this time, while his heart started getting a healthy dose of adrenaline. For minutes gun shots were exchanged up and down the highway. None were close enough to make him worry just yet. The buzzer went off somewhere above and the red line crept into view. It was inching along about a hundred feet away urging him into action, and Charlie stepped away from the Mercedes he'd been hiding behind. Almost immediately a loud shot rang out from behind. It felt as though a taser was jammed into his leg. Unable to support his weight his knee collapsed and he crumpled to the cracked pavement. Laying under a van some twenty feet away was a short girl already aiming at him for a second shot. Charlie tried to bring his gun around but he'd landed poorly. Her pistol flashed sending Charlie into darkness.

"Damn it," he cursed as the door to the lounge opened. He stepped out and punched the padded wall. That girl had been much closer to the match border. If he'd just waited for a little longer she would have been forced to move. But, no… he'd gotten impatient. She must have known he was there all along waiting for the shot. What pissed him off even more was the fact he hadn't even fired back. Charlie walked through the empty lounge to the elevators and started up. He got into line with several others to use the console and started another match.

“How are you doing?” Elva asked.

“I got one kill so far.”

“That’s good, keep at it. If you have questions don’t be afraid to ask. I can’t tell you how to play but I can give you some general advice.” She said in an enthusiastic voice.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied entering the elevator. It descended opening onto another lounge. As he exited the world went dark. This was just what he had to do; practice, practice, and more practice. That along with a heavy amount of trial and error. In an hour he was going to have to log off for lunch. Charlie wouldn’t do himself any favors by neglecting to eat. After that he could focus on running matches all day long. At least they were giving out ammo so he didn't have to leave the competition center.

***

Soft pale moonlight filtered through the broken blinds to illuminate the tiny hotel room. The light fixture hanging from the ceiling was broken, and the switch had been removed to keep people from turning it on. The run down room was more expensive than the motel but at least there was a bed. The sheets were stained, and the pillows lay forgotten on the floor. Charlie sat on the bed with his weapon, and a shaft of light framed them as his wrist worked. He licked his lips nervously. This technically wasn't their first time but that didn't stop him from worrying. Elva, however, was thoroughly enjoying herself.

"Mmmm… yes," she groaned and Charlie almost stopped mid-motion. "No, no don't stop. I'm almost there, just a little more." Elva begged. His wrist moved faster, fingers wet and slick from the solvent. The heavy aroma of gunsmoke wafted from the 1911 to fill the small room.

"Ohhh gawd, Charlie. I'm cuummminnggggg…" Elva squealed. The final word devolved into a series of panting cries.

This time Charlie did stop. His wrist slowed before he said, "You know—that is very distracting."

Elva panted breathlessly into his ear. "I told you, we guns are more sensitive in our original forms," she said. Charlie held in his left hand Elva's upper receiver and in his right a wire brush. The barrel and frame lay on a rag next to him on the bed. Charlie had been scrubbing the breach-face and under the extractor. He dipped the brush into the plastic cup, and brown powder residue swirled in the solvent. He tapped it on the container’s lip.

"I can't believe you get so dirty."

"Who's fault is that?" Elva asked heavily into his ear. "You used me all day long—not that I'm complaining." She added quickly.

"What I mean is, why? Why add dirt and grime into the game?" He asked using the brush on Elva's slide. He dug the bristles underneath the slide lip. Black oil dripped down the brush to his fingers. Elva groaned again unable to speak as he did this.

“It seems like a pointless waste of time, but I suppose it gives us Meister's a reason to get to know our weapons. A real soldier takes on the responsibility of caring for his gun." He said after considering the idea. Along with the sex and excitement came a bit of work.

Elva's slide looked free of caked on soot so he dropped the brush into the solvent and grabbed a q-tip. This he dug into her slide groove. It came away brownish-yellow, and he set it with the others. After several more he put the slide down on the rag. The barrel was a short tube with a feed ramp on one side. The inside grooves were nearly black with powder and copper fouling. He picked up the solvent canister and aimed down the throat spraying inside. He waited a few seconds then picked a circular brush out of the cleaning kit and ran it down the barrel. Elva tried but failed to stifle her moans. Charlie did this three or four times until the solvent came out clear. The lower frame was fairly clean aside from his dirty fingerprints, so he sprayed it down lightly and ran a rag over the metal.

"Now you need to oil me, but not more than a drop on the spots I told you. Improper oil is worse than none at all." The lubricant bottle was small with a long needle on the end. He squeezed a drop onto the front, middle, and back slide. Next he added a tiny amount to the sear and one final drop just below the hammer. The tricky part was reassembly and Charlie paused to check the instructions again.

He slid the barrel into the slide then inserted the bushing. The guide and recoil spring went in next. Now he had the awkward task of putting the upper receiver onto the lower. About halfway down he stopped with the holes lined up. With one hand holding the pieces together he pushed the slide stop into place. All that was left was to put on the spring cover and push it down. With his thumb he kept it depressed and rotated the barrel bushing into place. Done, phew… that was a task and a half.

He racked the slide several times to spread the oil around. After aiming the gun in a safe direction he pulled the trigger. The hammer fell on the empty chamber and he racked the gun again. Next he flicked on the safety and made sure that worked. The trigger refused to move, which was good. For a few seconds he held the completed weapon in his hands. The surface was a parkerized matte black which was smooth to the touch. It had dark wood grips with a subtle checkered pattern. Charlie had liked the weapon when he first picked Elva in character creation. She was a sexy creature in both her forms, though he'd learned she had drawbacks. Namely a lack of ammo capacity. Compared to some of the modern pistols seven rounds left him wanting. Still, you couldn't argue about that big forty-five caliber bullet. A single hit to the center torso was generally enough to down an unarmored opponent.

The 1911 began to glow until there was a flash. Elva appeared kneeling on the bed in daisy dukes and a tight little tank top. "That felt heavenly," she admitted rocking her hips back and forth. Elva stretched reaching her hands into the air while pushing her chest out. Again she shifted back and forth until she felt satisfied. Sliding from the bed she said, "I'm going to change into something more comfortable." The blond disappeared into the bathroom which gave Charlie time to clean up. He put the brushes into the kit and replaced the top on the solvent canister. The dirty rags and q-tips he tossed into the waste basket. All the extra cleaning supplies went into the shopping bag near the bed. Next he wiped his hands clean on a fresh towel. He needed a duffel bag or a backpack to put his purchases into. There was no hope of affording an apartment just yet. He and Elva would have to remain mobile by renting rooms each night.

Charlie sat back looking around at the hotel suite. It had cost forty credits, which was twice as expensive as the coffin motel, and it was still a dive. Near the entrance was a small kitchenette and table. The fridge didn't work and the sink constantly dripped water. At least he had a bed, hard and lumpy as it was. That was a far cry better than a hole in the wall. A window opposite Charlie was partially open, and the early summer air blew through the torn drapes. In the distance the glowing Competition Center was visible which was active all night long. The moon disappeared behind a cloud bank plunging Charlie into gloom.

He hadn't done well today. Out of ten casual matches he had lost all of them. Half the time he'd been one of the first people killed, and it didn't help that everyone was leagues ahead in skill. Charlie felt extremely frustrated with how little he understood the game. A large part of it came down to marksmanship and practice. He'd discovered, over the course of the day, that he couldn't shoot for shit. Charlie needed to work on his aim before he played another match. Tomorrow was Sunday and he had some money from his casual games. The six hundred credits would let him rent time in the practice rooms at the competition hall.

Charlie was forced out of his pity party by the bathroom door opening. Just then the moon exited the clouds, and the shaft of light perfectly framed Elva in the glow. It seemed for a few seconds that everything else in the world faded in importance. In the pale light Elva stepped playfully into the room wearing the crotchless lingerie they'd bought earlier. White thigh-high stockings were held up via a little garter belt and the window on her sex showed off a short landing strip of blond pubic hair. By now Charlie realized he'd been staring at her open mouthed. Elva smiled pleased with his reaction. She fingered the lace thong, pulling on it before letting it snap back into place. It was moments like this that reminded Charlie there was perfection in this digital world, and it was standing before him. Elva cupped a heavy breast feeling the soft lace fabric. The cloth was transparent enough to show off her pert pink nipples. Next she combed her fingers through her blond hair and shook it out. The strands fell over her chest as she locked eyes with Charlie. He blew out a breath he'd been unconsciously holding.

"Fuck me," he said as she swayed toward him seductively. The lingerie was definitely worth the credits, definitely.

"If that's what you want," she replied and he nodded eagerly.

Elva pushed him back onto the bed and started to unbutton his pants. Quickly his new clothes went onto the floor with the blankets. She climbed atop him, straddling his waist, and with long fingers curled around his manhood guided him inside. As Elva started rocking Charlie knew he was caught; hook, line, and sinker. His hips met hers as they quickly built up speed. Soon he was clutching at her waist in a vain attempt to hang onto his self-control. Charlie felt his way up her lace covered thighs, past her stomach, and grabbed her heaving breasts. Elva moaned placing her hands over his as she leaned back. Her sensuous body rose and fell, and Charlie knew he was about to finish. Elva leaned forward kissing him as he started to climax.

Afterward Elva swept back into the bathroom to put her daisy dukes on. Exhausted and ready for sleep Charlie activated the system menu. He touched his temple with two fingers and selected ‘Logout' from the options.

All was dark as reality settled over him. For a few seconds the dingy hotel room and his apartment merged in his senses. Charlie tried to speak it felt as though someone had poured hot sand down his throat. He coughed thickly and tried to work up some saliva.

"Lights, dim." He said in a hoarse voice. The ceiling light came on low. Damn, he was thirsty. Charlie slipped the dive helmet from his head. Then he rolled to his feet and set the gear down in the chair.

"Mental note—keep a water bottle handy," he thought.

Charlie coughed again as he shuffled into the kitchen. The water faucet came on tepid but he was too thirsty to wait. Forgoing a glass he cupped a hand under the water and brought it to his lips. It was like liquid ambrosia to his tongue despite the metallic aftertaste. He drank another handful and the fire in his throat began to lessen. Now that he wasn't in imminent danger of collapse he could take his time. Charlie fetched a clean glass and filled it with some ice cubes. He glanced down at the cat bowl which was empty again.

"I'm going to have to buy more cat food soon," he said fetching the container. It rattled as he shook the large plastic jug, and Fizzgig made his appearance at the sound. The feline sat a few feet away patiently waiting for Charlie to finish. Next he filled the water dish and wandered further into the apartment. As he shuffled into his bedroom he took a long draft of water and set it on the stand. Then he entered the master bath and flicked on the light.

He showered, brushed his teeth, and cleaned the litter-box while in the bathroom. After donning a pair clean boxers he went to lay down in bed. A full moon was up. Its color and luminosity almost exactly matched the one in game. The night sky was cloudless but the stars didn't twinkle quite so brightly in real life. It was something he never got tired of looking at. Deep down space called to him. He raised a hand pointing his finger at the moon as if Elva was in his hand.

"Bang," he whispered pulling the imaginary trigger. Charlie smiled, rolled away from the moonlight, and drifted off to sleep.