The sound of an explosion catapulted Charlie from a dead sleep. The deafening clatter of a machine gun followed. For a few seconds he sat in bed as his brain struggled into motion. The phone making the terrible racket danced across the bedside table. “That was the second alarm,” he thought blearily. The first was considerably more subdued which was why he'd slept right through it.

"Well fudge sticks," he said throwing the blankets off. Charlie reached past the water bottle snatching the phone and activated it. With a quick series of flicks, he silenced the gunfire. Charlie had ten minutes to get to work, and it was a twenty-minute commute. He dropped the mobile on the bed and rushed to the dresser. Thankfully he'd taken a shower last night, so all he had to do was throw on a button-up shirt and slacks. He tugged on some socks then shoved his feet into a pair of black business loafers. Grabbing the phone again he ran outside and down the apartment stairs. He was already late by the time he reached his car and started it.

After thirty-five minutes in traffic he pulled into his parking spot at the dealership. The glove compartment opened and he extracted an extra tie. Charlie slicked his hair using a half-empty bottle of water and a pocket comb. Finally, he checked himself using the driver side mirror. There was a heavy five o’clock shadow over his face, and his tie was crooked. He straightened it then ran a hand over his face hoping nobody would notice the stubble.

There were two customers already inside, and Frank glanced past the older woman. Charlie ignored the look and moved to his desk. There was paperwork to finish before he made the lot rounds. Pulling his chair out he was about to sit when his phone rang. He glanced up and towards the general manager's office. Through the glass, the boss was holding the receiver to his ear and looking in Charlie's direction. Irvin flicked his hand beckoning Charlie into the office.

“Just what I needed this morning,” he thought to himself. He moved to the glass door and knocked.

"It's open," the man said, and went inside.

"You're not usually late."

"It was hot last night, and I had trouble sleeping," Charlie said. It was a white lie. He'd been screwing Elva most of last night, but the old man didn't need to know that. The General Manager sat back giving Charlie the eyeball.

"Can I talk to you man to man?" The GM asked. Something sarcastic almost slipped from Charlie's lips, but he caught himself just in time.

"Of course," Charlie said and smiled hoping it looked genuine. He tried to prepare himself for whatever the man had to say.

"I like you, which is why I wanted to talk." Irvin began. Charlie prayed he hadn't meant sexually. God that was such a disgusting thought. The GM picked up a pen and examined it carefully before he spoke. "Your sales numbers are the lowest among the agents. If you don't get them up I'm going to have to take you off the active roster."

That wasn't good. If Charlie got put on call his commission rate would drop to almost nothing. Charlie needed to say something to prevent that at all cost. He touched his tie again making sure it was neat before speaking. "It's pretty hard out there with the recession. None of the others are pulling the numbers they used to."

"True, but that also means we can't afford to keep you on. I've seen you sell a luxury SUV to a stubborn mule-headed miser. I know you have what it takes, so why don't you do better?" He asked.

This time it was Charlie that sat back. His mind reeled. He felt like someone had just smashed him upside the head with a bat called Epiphany. "I see from the look on your face that I'm getting through to you," The older man said with a smile. The fool was such an ass. He had, however accidentally, stumbled into Charlie's darkened mind and flipped the right switch.

"Why didn't he do better?" Charlie asked himself. All his life he'd done just enough to get by and no more. He wanted out of the office so he had time to consider what was happening. It was as if the veil over his eyes had lifted, and the fog in which he dwelled was slowly dispelling.

"Give me a chance," he said at last.

"That's why I called you in here. You have a week before I drop you."

"Thanks for the heads up," Charlie replied standing. A week? The reprieve was so pathetically small as to be almost pointless, but there was always a chance. He left the glass office and walked to his desk. For a few minutes, he sat not doing anything at all. The world was suddenly different. Everything looked brighter, sharper, and more colorful than before, and it wasn't the morning sun coming through the windows. Charlie’s world perspective had shifted in the last few minutes.

His first thoughts, strangely enough, were of Gun Meister. He wondered why he hadn't done better in game. All yesterday Charlie had practiced his marksmanship. He'd used hours of time and several hundred credits on training. That though didn't excuse the stupid mistakes he'd made in the matches. He realized only now he hadn't been thinking. Charlie was by nature a lazy man. He could admit that. He always walked away from effort toward the path of least resistance. His one competition match had scared him enough that he fled to casual. There he'd only met with more skilled players. Yesterday he'd wasted most of his credits at the range. He needed to think more, and act less.

Finally he forced himself back into the present. Charlie was in danger of getting canned if he didn't improve. From his desk he watched the other agents talking to customers. Each one had their own style he realized.

Chad was sitting with a young couple across from Charlie. The younger man never shut up. In his mind's eye, Charlie could see Chad closing in on the young duo. In his hands, a sub-machine gun was continuously chattering. It didn't even matter what he said, so long as he didn't stop. The point obviously was to keep the marks talking and not thinking. Not using their heads to consider how ridiculously high those interest rates were. Like Chad though they were young and stupid.

Frank walked past the front doors. His eyes were locked onto another elderly woman in a decade old summer dress. He was like an unscrupulous assassin. He used misdirection to trick the customers into looking at something else. Only then did he slip the knife in unseen. Except in Frank's case, it was the car's faulty alternator or a bad transmission. Charlie felt a moment of disgust as the man got within range of that older female. She smiled up at him like a doe in his headlights. Thankfully, Charlie couldn't see Frank's shark-like grin.

Jennifer was sitting at her desk with her new award proudly displayed. She'd even gotten a frame for it which had certainly cost more than the useless piece of paper. Jen was akin to that gold level smurf in his first competition match. All she had to do for the kill was walk down the street scanning for enemies. Suckers would leap out after Jennifer hot for some attention. That was why she targeted single men coming onto the lot. Natural marks, ones that spent more time hitting on her than reading the loan agreement they were signing.

He needed a new style. Charlie didn't have tits so using his good looks was unlikely. Not unless a string of desperate gay men strolled onto the lot. Neither was he ruthless enough to shovel garbage cars. He would never be a talker like ‘Chattering Chad.' That took too much energy even to watch. For a time, he considered what to do. While doing this a husband and wife drove onto the lot with a hybrid convertible sports car. Charlie forced himself from the chair and out the front doors. He caught a piece of their conversation as he neared.

"I don't know babe. These get terrible mileage per kilowatt." The man was saying.

"We need something for the baby, and for the future." The wife replied a little tartly. Charlie stopped a few feet away.

"Good morning, can I help you?" The husband turned and glanced almost stubbornly at Charlie. The look wasn't entirely hostile but neither did he smile.

"We're checking out our options, thank you." He said motioning Charlie away.

"My husband wants to trade in his car for something more family friendly," she said. The van she was looking at was a soccer mom's wet dream. Fold out seats, lots of room in the back for groceries, and it even had a luggage wrack for trips to the park.

Charlie again glanced at the husband who's face was stony. The car they’d come in with was an expensive electric sports car. It was red, of course it was red. Charlie suspected he understood the situation now. The wife married the guy for his money and his fast car. Now that she had the ring she wanted the sports car gone. Mr. Husband though was kicking tires and finding things wrong with the vehicles. He could empathize with the man, and Charlie didn't blame the guy. Brand new it was a sixty thousand dollar car. Even ten years old the car’s Bluebook was worth a good 24k in trade in.

"How about this," Charlie said to the couple. "Instead of trading in the car for a new van, you can get a used one for a third the price."

"We just bought a home so we don't have much for down payment." The wife said quickly. Charlie nodded and plowed ahead.

"You don't need a down payment for a used car. We finance everything. That way the husband keeps his vehicle for work and you get a family van for running around." Charlie said with burgeoning appeal. He smiled at the two. The woman grimaced glancing towards the used car lot. Her face looked skeptical but the husband nodded quickly latching onto the idea.

"Honey, think about it. This way there will be two cars. You don't have to wait for me to get home to go shopping." He said wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He turned guiding the woman towards the second lot. Charlie followed on his heels.

“That guy really wanted to keep his hot little convertible,” Charlie thought to himself.

"This is the same model van that you were just looking at. It's only three years old and has very low mileage.” He said stopping next to a vehicle.

"It's used though," the wife argued.

"Everything is rigorously maintained by our service team. The used van is twenty-two thousand dollars less and there's no down payment." He said and the husband nodded already in agreement. The interest rate was going to be a killer but the husband could handle it. Charlie had a sale, and it hadn't taken much convincing. He led the two into the air conditioned building, and settled both at his desk. The couple signed the loan agreement and Charlie handed the keys over.

Charlie watched both cars leave the lot. That was exactly what he should have been doing. Look for a way in, push in hard, and get the sale. He sold two more cars which was better than usual.

***

He logged in just after five in the evening. Elva lay atop him like usual but he didn't have time for her shenanigans today. Quickly he gathered the cleaning equipment, extra clothes, and ammo together in the shopping bags. "Come on," he said pulling open the door and heading downstairs. The lobby was empty and he tossed the hotel key onto the desk as he went by. The city was busy with people just getting off work. Cars and motorcycles roared by on the way to the competition center. Charlie joined the throng walking in that direction.

"Are you angry with me?" Elva asked two steps behind. He stopped mid-stride perplexed by the question.

"What?"

"Your face is set. Are you angry I hurt you?" Elva asked nervously. For a few seconds he continued to stare at her until realization dawned. Last night he'd tried introducing her to the pleasures of oral sex with disastrous results.

"Ahh, well… I did tell you to treat it like a Tootsie-pop. Little did I know you'd lick it three times before biting into the chewy center." He said reaching out a hand. She smiled sheepishly as he patted her on the head. "No, I'm not angry with you, but next time don’t use your teeth. If I am upset, it's at myself." He said and continued walking. Within minutes he neared the Competition Center and joined the crowd heading inside. Memorial weekend was over so the free ammo was gone. The crowd split apart. Most of the people made for the training areas while the rest went towards the large public lounge. Several bars were set up and people could watch the matches in progress. A few like him were heading to the terminals. There was an open console and he activated it with his palm. The screen flashed as he navigated the menu until ‘Quick Death-Match’ came up, and he hit accept.

"Enter Lobby 157," it said and he moved to the elevator. The private room was empty and he was forced to wait while the rest of the players gathered. Elva sat nearby on the couch. Charlie was still irritated, but that was no reason to take it out on her. He shifted closer wrapping an arm around her waist. Two players entered next and moved to the far wall.

Elva leaned in and whispered, "I'll do better next time."

"I know you will," he said patting her side. "Weapon form," he added as the next person entered. She started to glow and a pistol was soon laying in his lap. Charlie checked her load, then holster the weapon. As the final player entered, everything faded into darkness.

[Match Starting]

A seagull flew past in a squawking clatter of feathers. His foot slipped on slimy deck plating, and he snatched onto a nearby railing. After collecting himself he scanned the area. It appeared Charlie was standing on the prow of a derelict cargo ship. The vessel was beached and listed awkwardly to one side. Many of the shipping containers had broken their cables and fallen below. Televisions, stuffed toys, and decomposing commercial goods were half buried in the sand. The containers left on the deck formed a disjointed maze of alleys.

“Ok, enough gawking,” he reprimanded himself. Charlie had people to kill, so he unholstered the 1911 and slid the safety off. For once luck was on his side with a good position. Starting at the prow meant he could be reasonably certain nobody was behind him. Just in case he glanced over the railing, and scanned the beach searching the jumble of rusting containers. Nothing moved except seagulls and a few sand crabs. In the distance, the red line curved in a giant circle around the ship. His examination of the area was cut short by gunfire. A distant series of pops indicated the actual beginning of the match.

He moved slowly into the entrance of the maze. Several container doors hung open swinging slowly and creaking in the sea breeze. Years of rain, mold, and bird droppings formed a dark slime over the deck. A pair of footprints appeared halfway down the row. Charlie glanced back seeing that he too was leaving a trail, so there was no point in camping unless you started in a covered position.

The footprints of this first enemy disappeared into a nearby container. Keeping his pistol aimed at the entrance he advanced. Charlie took his time. At the first open door he paused to check inside. It held a dusty disused sports car, but was otherwise empty. Finally, after a full minute he arrived outside his target’s hiding place. The doors were partially open and it was obvious the person had done so on purpose. The player could wait inside for a shadow to pass by then fire from within. Not a bad plan. Charlie was tempted to wait the guy out, but the red line was already halfway to the ship. He paused listening at the door, then smiled, and almost laughed from what he heard. Whoever was inside the container was breathing so hard it sounded like a bad horror movie.

"These guys are just as scared as I am," he thought to himself. That made him feel a little better.

Reaching out with the pistol he used the barrel to knock on the red container door. Charlie quickly pulled back when several bullet holes appeared in the metal. The person inside unloaded thirteen rounds turning the rusting metal into swiss cheese. There was a long lull and he dodged across the gap to the other side. As Charlie did so, he glanced in. A red Ferrari was parked inside and strapped tightly down. Dust and bird droppings covered the once immaculate paint job. Behind the vehicle a man was crouched desperately trying to reload. After a second he straightened and aimed across the car trunk. Charlie did laugh this time. He couldn't help it, for he found the scene strangely funny as he stepped into the cover of another open container.

"Why the hell are you laughing?" The man asked from inside the shadowed container.

"I was just thinking you trapped yourself in there. What are you going to do when the red line comes?" He asked in a friendly voice.

"Screw you!"

"Just pointing the problem out," Charlie said crouching lower. There might still be others nearby and he didn't want to get target fixated again. For almost a minute there was nothing but the stiff sound of the sea breeze. Charlie suspected the other players were camping until the buzzer sounded. He reached out tapping the door again with his gun.

"Hello?" He asked politely but was met with angry silence. From within the container feet shuffled, and the sound came close to the door. Charlie remained where he was half hidden in his own container. Feet shuffled again as the player retreated behind the car.

"Fuck, fuck, shit…" The man muttered to himself. Charlie felt bad for the guy. It was such a simple mistake and now he was paying for it. Another minute passed as the man cursed to himself.

"How about you bugger off?" A hoarse voice asked.

"Afraid I can't leave you behind me. We gotta settle this first." Charlie replied. Somewhere above a buzzer went off. Half the time remained and the red line would start moving faster. Several gunshots rang out close by, and Charlie perked up as the noise was only a row or two away. Behind him the red line appeared through the back of the container. He stood, moved out into the open, and slowly shuffled backward up the aisle toward the next row.

A face appeared in the entrance of the container. Charlie raised his gun aiming down the sights, but before he could fire it retreated. The red line advanced slowly covering part of the aisle. Charlie waited for the player to make a gun-blazing rush. From inside the container there was a muffled pop followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

"Really?!" Charlie asked in surprise. The guy did himself dirty rather than take the fight, so Charlie was robbed of his kill reward. Just to make sure Charlie waited a few more seconds in silence. The red line passed over the container entrance pushing Charlie forward. Now he just had to worry about the people ahead of him, and there was at least one person close by. Along this row all of the containers were closed. That was small consolation considering the barrier was right on his heels.

At the next open aisle several sets of footprints led inside. About ten feet in the paths branched and each trail diverged. The left headed towards the prow, but the red line already closed that way off. Charlie was forced right and he walked to the next turn. There a body was laying next to an open container door. It was female, but surprisingly little was left of the face. Carefully he opened the door next to the body. Just inside a few shell casings marked where the ambusher had stood. Somewhere amid the container maze a gun battle erupted, and it sounded like multiple parties were involved in a cascade of fire.

The red line was closing in quickly, and Charlie was in danger of getting boxed into a dead end. He picked up the pace following the trail of footprints. More gunfire rang out nearby, and he stopped short of entering the next turn. The maze ended in an open platform. Sticking out of the center were the pillars of a massive rusted crane. A boom arm lay broken across the deck like a severed appendage. Twenty feet ahead a tall blond man crouched behind the steel pillar. He was in full view and an easy target.

The player poked his head around the pillar looking across the deck. He raised an FN Five-Seven and shot several rounds at something. Charlie ducked back behind the corner as two people returned fire. He considered his options. Charlie had done a lot of skulking around and very little killing, however, that meant he still had a full loadout. Likely he would have to reload quickly after he made his move. With that in mind, he removed one of the extra magazines and held it in his off hand.

There was less than five minutes left in the round and the boundary was an ever-present concern. Still, he waited while the players in the middle continued to exchange shots. Glanced back around the corner, Charlie found the blond crouched low to the ground, and saving the last few rounds for the final push. The weapon trembled in the man’s large Germanic hands, and Charlie glanced at his own pistol. It was perfectly still, and pointing towards the ground. His heart rate was up and adrenaline was coursing through his veins, but he was managing.

Charlie slipped around the corner with the pistol held in one hand. Raising the sights up he targeted the man's back. The gun bucked as the first round slammed into the target. The man jerked sideways in surprise and tried to return fire, but Charlie walked forward firing several more rounds. Two of his three shots caught the man in the center chest. Someone else fired at him and a bullet hit the cargo container next to his left arm. Near the broken boom a girl was aiming at him. Charlie returned fire by instinct as he dashed the final distance to the pillar. He missed his shots, but at least he was in cover. Tilting the gun, Charlie pressed the magazine release with his thumb. The empty box slid free and he replaced it with the extra in his hand. He wasn't sure if he'd lose the mag if he left it on the ground, and they were worth a hundred credits, so he grabbed the dropped mag, and slid it into an empty slot.

There was another pause in the fighting. He crouched next to the pillar and smiled to himself. Well, well… he'd done considerably better than he thought he would. By the looks of things only four people remained. There was Charlie, the girl, and from the sounds of combat two others on the opposite end. He wished he had a watch. The red line was a clear indication how much time was left, but it would be nice to know exactly how long the match had been going.

A funny thing happened then. Charlie stood next to the man he'd killed, and the Five-Seven pistol began to glow. After a second it vanished in a twinkling of light, but the corpse remained. That was curious. He’d have to ask Elva about that later.

Charlie decided to risk the dash to the central hoist. Everyone would be low on ammo at this point and unlikely to waste them on a snapshot. He jinked left around the pillar and over a small railing. The girl near the boom aimed at him but he dodged putting the hoist in the way. Once there he considered his next move. He could climb the crane ladder for a height advantage, but that would expose him to multiple attackers. Charlie had the advantage right now, so it was better to wait for the others to push him. He crouched next to the railing and glanced over the edge. The girl was aiming at someone on the other side as she fired three or four shots.

He used both his hands to grip the pistol as he rested his forearms on the railing. Slowly he squeezed the trigger as the girl looked in his direction. Elva barked in his grip. The top of her head disappeared in a red mist and she fell backward onto the slimy deck.

"Damn, that felt good," he thought to himself. She'd been something like forty feet away and mostly behind cover. There was less than a minute remaining, and he moved to the hoist ladder. The red circle was only twenty feet away as he began to climb. A cab came into view. The front window was broken which had let rain water into the compartment. Someone on the other side was climbing up the second ladder. A new woman stopped partially above the gangway, but she still had a few rungs before reaching the landing. Charlie quickly fired several shots through the cab. Shattered glass flew outward as his bullets punched through the thin metal, and the girl dropped below.

Charlie reloaded with his last full magazine. There was noise from below as the final player moved around the base. His aim still wasn't very good on the move. Following the noise he crept to the edge of the gangway. A bullet ricocheted off the metal as he tried glancing over the side, and shrapnel slapped against his cheek. Quickly he pulled back to the control cab as something hot and wet ran down his chin. Reaching up he wiped at the liquid to discover it was his blood. That had been a mistake to peek over the edge. One that almost cost him the game. He didn't need to kill her personally, the circle would do that for him.

Seconds were left and the red circle was within touching distance of the hoist. Nearby the metal ladder rattled as someone quickly climbed it. He didn't peek this time. Instead, he knelt next to the edge and pointed the gun straight down. He fired off four rounds and withdrew. Below a body hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Darkness followed after a few more seconds.

[Match Complete]